Without Consent by Kathryn Fox

in the cubicle.”
    Closing the sliding door, Anya returned to Mary.
    “Can you give her a few minutes? We still need to talk about emergency contraception, infection screening and follow-up.”
    Mary agreed. “Are you okay?”
    “Just tired. We’ve got a serial rapist this time. I get the feeling we’re going to be seeing more of his handiwork.”
    As the sound of the shower continued, Mary left to comfort Gloria, the second victim of Melanie’s sexual assault.

15
     
    Before Anya left the unit, she sat down to re-read Louise Richardson’s file. Her offender had used the exact phrase, and the pharmacist had suffered an almost identical bruise near her collarbone. Her attacker had also carried a knife, but Anya assumed the police already had those details. Checking the logbook for the evidence fridge, she saw that the specimens had been removed but not collected by the police. They were listed as destroyed. Anya hurried to find Mary Singer, who was writing up her own notes in the main office area.
    “Do you remember Louise Richardson, the pharmacist attacked near the hospital?”
    “The one trying for a baby.” Mary glanced up. “Husband was into art, I think.”
    “Yes. What happened to her specimens? I thought she wanted to go to the police.”
    “Ah, she called a couple of days later and wanted us to destroy the samples. Said she didn’t want the police involved.”
    Damn! “Do you remember the name of the pharmacy?”
    “It’s in the lane behind the specialists’ center, I think.” Mary returned to her notes.
    Anya used the Internet to locate the pharmacy and phoned, asking for Louise. The man on the phone said Louise had left work and was not returning. He offered to help, but Anya knew that if Louise had voluntarily disappeared, like so many victims did following an assault, there was little chance of eliciting more information about the attacker. Telling the police about Louise Richardson was a breach of confidentiality but they somehow had to be warned about a violent serial offender. In Anya’s experience, the violence would only escalate.
     
     
     
    In her Annandale office later that day, Anya put down the receiver in disbelief. After wading through the next six cases Morgan Tully had sent, she had called the president of the College of Pathologists. Each file she reviewed suggested that Alf Carney found remote and even theoretical reasons to deem each of the deaths from natural causes. No wonder Carney was under investigation by the Coroner’s office. Despite highly suspicious circumstances surrounding each death, the police’s hands were tied once Carney had labelled the deaths due to vitamin, mineral or some other deficiency.
    Her secretary knocked on the door with a coffee and a slice of chocolate cake.
    “You’re quiet today. Everything all right?”
    Anya took the offerings and put them on the table beside her paperwork. “Thanks. I could do with more caffeine.”
    “Your lawyer conference is rebooked for Thursday.” Anya instantly recognized Elaine’s concerned-mother expression. “Long night?”
    “You could say that. But this lot…” Anya waved her hand over the case-files, “has got me stumped. I can’t see why someone with Alf Carney’s experience and renown can come to conclusions like this. Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything on the grapevine about his health?”
    Elaine blushed, just perceptibly. “Are you asking me to make some discreet inquiries?”
    Anya felt awkward discussing Peter Latham with Elaine, even more so since the older pair had begun playing bridge together once a week. She didn’t know whether the relationship was platonic or not, and didn’t really want to know. She ate the icing off the cake.
    “No. I don’t know what I’m asking. It just seems so odd.”
    Elaine sat in the chair across from Anya’s desk. “Peter said he’d spent some time with Alf recently. I think he feels sorry for him. His wife died a few years ago. After that, he