the drivers couldn’t see me. I got up in the night but Vicky’d locked my bedroom door. I could have broken the window if I’d really tried, but there were bars outside.”
“This was a bungalow?”
“No - yes, just two stories, yes. But big, a lot of rooms. On the Monday I felt better, the headache had worn off. Vicky got me up early and told me to defrost the fridge and clean the oven. Then I was to take Jerry his breakfast in bed. That was the only time Vicky touched me. She shook me to wake me up and slapped my face. I’d - no one had ever slapped me before. I didn’t know what to do, I don’t know how to fight people. It was a shock, being hit like that. I took Jerry’s breakfast in on a tray, it was cereal and toast and honey and an orange. He was sitting up in bed in striped pajamas, and he took the tray and said, ‘Thanks.’ That was the only time he spoke to me, though he spoke to Vicky.”
Rachel seemed to have forgotten her restraint. Now she was voluble, pouring it all out. “I did housework all day and cooked. I suppose I thought that if I did it, they’d let me go. I had plenty to eat and Vicky offered me drinks, but I wouldn’t have them in case she’d doctored them with whatever that was. But I did a silly thing. On Tuesday I started feeling ill, it was my period coming, and I asked Vicky for a paracetamol and again the pack came out. But she’d done something to it, put capsules with this drug in through the plastic so the foil seal wasn’t broken. And that deceived me, so I took two and they had the same effect as the first one, only worse, and I don’t know what I did for the rest of the day, I can’t remember anything, I may have done housework, had some food, I don’t know, but when I woke up it was midday today and I was lying there” - she looked dubiously in Wexford’s direction - “well, in a bit of a mess, and there was a packet of Tampax beside me and my jeans and sweater.”
“I felt dreadful but Vicky made me wash my sheets. She hung them on the line herself, she wouldn’t let me outside. And then, at about six, she said I could go home. I had such a hangover I could hardly see. Jerry wasn’t around. Vicky unlocked the front door and took me out to the car, the same one we’d come in. I could have run away then, but I felt so ill and besides I didn’t see the point. I let her bring me back here and she dropped me off where she’d picked me up.”
It was not Wexford or Karen Malahyde who eventually persuaded Rachel to be seen by a doctor, but Lynn Fancourt, who seemed to strike some chord with her or ignite some spark of affinity Perhaps it was only that Lynn was nearer her own age. Not that Devonshire, though, Rachel said, puffing a face as if she could smell something nasty. So it was Dr. Akande whom she saw and, after more grumbling and truculence, allowed to take a blood sample and peer into her eyes and down her throat.
“I think, she was given Rohypnol,” Wexford said. “Akande found no trace of it but it’s virtually undetectable anyway, and by now it would have passed out of her system.”
Burden raised his eyebrows. “Is that the stuff they call the rape drug? No smell, no taste, put in drink it sedates, and next day the subject has a massive hangover but can’t remember what’s happened to her?”
“More or less.”
“Then we find out who in the area’s been prescribed Rohypnol and Bob’s your uncle.”
“Not quite,” said Wexford. “Rohypnol’s only obtainable on prescription now and only, in fact, on private prescription, but until recently you could buy it over the counter, anyone could buy it.”
Burden, who had been walking up and down, not so much pacing as strolling while he considered, sat down on the edge of Wexford’s desk. “How much of this tale of hers do we believe? I mean, is it any less of a farrago of lies than Lizzie Cromwell’s story?”
Wexford was silent,
“This was a bungalow?”
“No - yes, just two stories, yes. But big, a lot of rooms. On the Monday I felt better, the headache had worn off. Vicky got me up early and told me to defrost the fridge and clean the oven. Then I was to take Jerry his breakfast in bed. That was the only time Vicky touched me. She shook me to wake me up and slapped my face. I’d - no one had ever slapped me before. I didn’t know what to do, I don’t know how to fight people. It was a shock, being hit like that. I took Jerry’s breakfast in on a tray, it was cereal and toast and honey and an orange. He was sitting up in bed in striped pajamas, and he took the tray and said, ‘Thanks.’ That was the only time he spoke to me, though he spoke to Vicky.”
Rachel seemed to have forgotten her restraint. Now she was voluble, pouring it all out. “I did housework all day and cooked. I suppose I thought that if I did it, they’d let me go. I had plenty to eat and Vicky offered me drinks, but I wouldn’t have them in case she’d doctored them with whatever that was. But I did a silly thing. On Tuesday I started feeling ill, it was my period coming, and I asked Vicky for a paracetamol and again the pack came out. But she’d done something to it, put capsules with this drug in through the plastic so the foil seal wasn’t broken. And that deceived me, so I took two and they had the same effect as the first one, only worse, and I don’t know what I did for the rest of the day, I can’t remember anything, I may have done housework, had some food, I don’t know, but when I woke up it was midday today and I was lying there” - she looked dubiously in Wexford’s direction - “well, in a bit of a mess, and there was a packet of Tampax beside me and my jeans and sweater.”
“I felt dreadful but Vicky made me wash my sheets. She hung them on the line herself, she wouldn’t let me outside. And then, at about six, she said I could go home. I had such a hangover I could hardly see. Jerry wasn’t around. Vicky unlocked the front door and took me out to the car, the same one we’d come in. I could have run away then, but I felt so ill and besides I didn’t see the point. I let her bring me back here and she dropped me off where she’d picked me up.”
It was not Wexford or Karen Malahyde who eventually persuaded Rachel to be seen by a doctor, but Lynn Fancourt, who seemed to strike some chord with her or ignite some spark of affinity Perhaps it was only that Lynn was nearer her own age. Not that Devonshire, though, Rachel said, puffing a face as if she could smell something nasty. So it was Dr. Akande whom she saw and, after more grumbling and truculence, allowed to take a blood sample and peer into her eyes and down her throat.
“I think, she was given Rohypnol,” Wexford said. “Akande found no trace of it but it’s virtually undetectable anyway, and by now it would have passed out of her system.”
Burden raised his eyebrows. “Is that the stuff they call the rape drug? No smell, no taste, put in drink it sedates, and next day the subject has a massive hangover but can’t remember what’s happened to her?”
“More or less.”
“Then we find out who in the area’s been prescribed Rohypnol and Bob’s your uncle.”
“Not quite,” said Wexford. “Rohypnol’s only obtainable on prescription now and only, in fact, on private prescription, but until recently you could buy it over the counter, anyone could buy it.”
Burden, who had been walking up and down, not so much pacing as strolling while he considered, sat down on the edge of Wexford’s desk. “How much of this tale of hers do we believe? I mean, is it any less of a farrago of lies than Lizzie Cromwell’s story?”
Wexford was silent,
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