forgetting—there’s nothing there to forget.”
“So, if someone blows this powder into a woman’s face, he can get her to do whatever he wants, even have sex, and she won’t remember it?”
“Probably the worst aspect of the drug is that while it robs the victim of her free will and memory, it doesn’t impair her cognitive function in any way. To a stranger, she’d look and behave normally. If a woman’s under the effects of scopolamine, she’s compliant, but compliance doesn’t denote consent.”
“What if she gets pregnant?”
“Unless the bastard had been rough with her, there wouldn’t have been any vaginal signs to show the sex was coerced. If she were sexually active, she’d probably put it down to the luck of the draw—no birth control method is 100 percent foolproof. On the other hand, if she wasn’t involved and there was no trauma, she’d certainly have questions, but there’d most likely be shame and guilt realizing she’s had unprotected sex with a stranger. That guilt would be compounded if they didn’t have any idea where and when it happened. Date rape goes unreported more often than not because of this. And if the woman does report she’s been sexually assaulted, trying to prove rape without any idea of who, when, or where is almost impossible.”
“Thanks, Mira. You’ve been a big help.”
“Wait, don’t hang up. Aren’t you going to tell me what this is about?”
“I can’t yet, but when I can, I promise I’ll fill you in on all the details.” He ended the call.
He looked down at his hand, which had started to ache only after Rodgers had indicated the blood. He’d wrapped paper toweling around it, but the cut was deep, and the damn thing wouldn’t stop bleeding. He clenched his fist tighter and called his partner’s cell phone.
“Tom, it’s Rob.”
“Hey, I’m glad you called. I’m sorry I was such an ass last night. Just too tired to think straight. I’ve thought about what you said—”
“Faye’s been attacked.”
“What?” Tom yelled into the phone, forcing Rob to move the device away from his ear. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I was supposed to pick her up this morning at nine. I overslept. Her place was trashed, like Lucy Green’s, and Faye’s unconscious.”
“Son of a bitch. Did he beat her? Is she going to be okay?”
“He didn’t beat her. I think he did something far worse, but I don’t know for sure, and I don’t know if she’s going to be okay. She’s been drugged. I’m going into the hospital shortly.” Tom tried to interrupt, but he wouldn’t let him. “Listen. I need you to go into the precinct. Pierce is questioning those kids who found the body last night. They were stoned, so I doubt they saw much, but I’d feel better if you were with him.”
“Sure thing. You know how I feel about our Columbo clone. Whatever I can do to piss on his parade works for me. Where are you?”
“Mount Auburn. I know you don’t think much of my theory, but I’m sticking with it. I’m more convinced now than ever that the Green murder and the Harvester are connected.”
“Whether they are or aren’t isn’t important. You’re my partner, and I should’ve supported you at least until your theory was disproved. We could’ve parked an unmarked unit outside her place. I’ll call Pierce and get down there as soon as I can. Once we’re done, we’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Thanks, Tom. I’ll see you later.”
Rob stared at the bloody paper towel on his hand. Tom might not have been convinced the Harvester was the man who’d killed Lucy Green, but at least he’d be willing to listen now. Until he had proof, that’s the best Rob could expect.
As much as he wanted to get inside and see what was happening to Faye, now that he’d spoken to Mira, he had one more favor to ask of Boston’s crusty ME.
Rob got out of the car and stretched, waiting for his call to go through.
“City morgue.” The voice at
“So, if someone blows this powder into a woman’s face, he can get her to do whatever he wants, even have sex, and she won’t remember it?”
“Probably the worst aspect of the drug is that while it robs the victim of her free will and memory, it doesn’t impair her cognitive function in any way. To a stranger, she’d look and behave normally. If a woman’s under the effects of scopolamine, she’s compliant, but compliance doesn’t denote consent.”
“What if she gets pregnant?”
“Unless the bastard had been rough with her, there wouldn’t have been any vaginal signs to show the sex was coerced. If she were sexually active, she’d probably put it down to the luck of the draw—no birth control method is 100 percent foolproof. On the other hand, if she wasn’t involved and there was no trauma, she’d certainly have questions, but there’d most likely be shame and guilt realizing she’s had unprotected sex with a stranger. That guilt would be compounded if they didn’t have any idea where and when it happened. Date rape goes unreported more often than not because of this. And if the woman does report she’s been sexually assaulted, trying to prove rape without any idea of who, when, or where is almost impossible.”
“Thanks, Mira. You’ve been a big help.”
“Wait, don’t hang up. Aren’t you going to tell me what this is about?”
“I can’t yet, but when I can, I promise I’ll fill you in on all the details.” He ended the call.
He looked down at his hand, which had started to ache only after Rodgers had indicated the blood. He’d wrapped paper toweling around it, but the cut was deep, and the damn thing wouldn’t stop bleeding. He clenched his fist tighter and called his partner’s cell phone.
“Tom, it’s Rob.”
“Hey, I’m glad you called. I’m sorry I was such an ass last night. Just too tired to think straight. I’ve thought about what you said—”
“Faye’s been attacked.”
“What?” Tom yelled into the phone, forcing Rob to move the device away from his ear. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I was supposed to pick her up this morning at nine. I overslept. Her place was trashed, like Lucy Green’s, and Faye’s unconscious.”
“Son of a bitch. Did he beat her? Is she going to be okay?”
“He didn’t beat her. I think he did something far worse, but I don’t know for sure, and I don’t know if she’s going to be okay. She’s been drugged. I’m going into the hospital shortly.” Tom tried to interrupt, but he wouldn’t let him. “Listen. I need you to go into the precinct. Pierce is questioning those kids who found the body last night. They were stoned, so I doubt they saw much, but I’d feel better if you were with him.”
“Sure thing. You know how I feel about our Columbo clone. Whatever I can do to piss on his parade works for me. Where are you?”
“Mount Auburn. I know you don’t think much of my theory, but I’m sticking with it. I’m more convinced now than ever that the Green murder and the Harvester are connected.”
“Whether they are or aren’t isn’t important. You’re my partner, and I should’ve supported you at least until your theory was disproved. We could’ve parked an unmarked unit outside her place. I’ll call Pierce and get down there as soon as I can. Once we’re done, we’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Thanks, Tom. I’ll see you later.”
Rob stared at the bloody paper towel on his hand. Tom might not have been convinced the Harvester was the man who’d killed Lucy Green, but at least he’d be willing to listen now. Until he had proof, that’s the best Rob could expect.
As much as he wanted to get inside and see what was happening to Faye, now that he’d spoken to Mira, he had one more favor to ask of Boston’s crusty ME.
Rob got out of the car and stretched, waiting for his call to go through.
“City morgue.” The voice at
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