Page 88 of She Didn't See It Coming
Now, as she drives home, she thinks unhappily about how Sam had been this morning. How he’d handed the responsibility for Clara over to her, leaving her to pack the bag of Clara’s things for the day. He was distant, even when Clara was not in the room. She thinks that he can afford to be affectionate with her in private. He doesn’t have to hold her at arm’s length when they are alone. Maybe she needs to tell him that. They could have spent time alone together, now, while Clara’s at day care. But he’d wanted to be alone.
Does he not care for her? It’s so hard to tell with Sam. He doesn’t talk about his feelings. She tells herself she must be patient.
But he seems to think that she will do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. She’s not so sure anymore. He really should be more considerate of her, she tells herself. What she knows could hurt him.
•••
Alice has decidedto go in to work today.
She’s looked up Dr. Michael Fraser, PhD in psychology, who lectures in the Psych Department and also, apparently, has a small private practice. He is giving a lecture at two o’clock in one of the large halls. She decides to stop in and listen; it might be fun. And she’s curious.
She arrives while the students are getting settled and slips into an aisle seat a few rows from the front. It must be a first-year course, giventhe size of the lecture hall and the number and age of the students around her. They are children. They seem to get younger every year.
She turns her attention to the man at the podium. This is the man who sleeps with her nemesis, Detective Salter, who sees her in her racy pink and black panties. He’s tall and well built, and definitely handsome, in a bookish, cerebral kind of way. Intelligence attracts her. She likes his tousled brown hair and bright blue eyes. She likes his smile. When he begins to speak, she is attracted to his voice. It’s pleasant to listen to—masculine, confident, engaging. He’s sexy, and she’s intrigued. And oh, what luck, the lecture he’s giving today is on abnormal psychology. She listens attentively, as if falling under a spell. She will have questions, after.
She’d like to meet him.
•••
Tracy has somethingimportant to do, so she has called in sick again. She’s so nervous that her hands are shaking. She must calm down or she will give herself away. She drives the short distance to Kayly Medoff’s workplace.
Kayly said on Facebook that she worked at Garrison Insurance Brokers. There’s only one location. And now Tracy has parked outside the building and stands looking at it. Strangely, all her nerves have suddenly dissipated.
She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes and walks into the building and up to reception and asks to see Kayly Medoff.
“Can I ask what it’s regarding?” the receptionist inquires.
“It’s personal,” Tracy says coolly.
The receptionist makes a call and Tracy waits. A strange feeling has come over her. She can move and speak normally, but it’s as if she’s completely detached from what’s happening.
A few moments later a young woman approaches her with a tentative smile. “Hi, I’m Kayly. Do I know you?”
She’s even prettier in person, Tracy thinks. About ten years younger than Tracy herself. “No. But I hoped maybe we could talk.”
Now the younger woman looks suspicious. “About what?”
“Please,” Tracy implores. “Just a few minutes?”
“All right.” Kayly walks her over to some leather chairs in the corner of the lobby, far enough from reception to afford them privacy. They sit.
Tracy has already decided how she’s going to approach this. She begins, “You were so brave, when it happened to you.”
Kayly knows immediately what she’s talking about. “Were you assaulted?” There is genuine concern and compassion on her face and in her voice.
Tracy swallows, nods. “I haven’t gone to the police.”
“It’s a big step,” Kayly says. After a pause, she says gently, “You know there are support groups you can go to. I did. It helped me.” She adds, “But I don’t think you ever really get over it.” Her eyes change and her voice trembles with emotion. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
Tracy knows there’s no way this woman is making up what happened to her. She swallows again and asks, “Do you regret going to the police?”
Kayly sighs heavily. “Yes and no. He was arrested but never charged because they said there wasn’t enough evidence. I should have gone to the hospital or the police right away, shouldn’t have showered away all the evidence. I regret that more than anything. They couldn’t find the van he raped me in.” She says, more bitterly, “But I know who did it. It made his life hard for a few days, but that’s all. He’s out there, free to do it again to someone else.”
Tracy takes a deep breath and asks, “But how can you know for sure—wasn’t he wearing a mask the whole time?”
“I recognized his voice. He came into Dunkin’ Donuts, where I worked, almost every day. I know it was him.” She pauses for a moment. “And he had this thing he did, tapping the fourth finger on his right hand. He used to do that on the counter when he was ordering coffee. And he did it in that van. But it wasn’t enough for me to be able to identify him, they neededproof.Evidence. And I didn’t have any. They knew it was him—they said they saw him tapping his finger like that in the interview room.”
Tracy can’t seem to catch her breath. She’s suffocating. She stands up suddenly, fighting a wave of sickness. “I’m sorry,” she gasps, and flees the lobby.
