“Just avoid Grant or really any of his friends,” Abigail says. “Avoid confrontation of any kind so that I have a chance to talk to him first. Because of his family ties, it’s important that he’s caught off guard when I first talk to him. I need to see his initial reaction to judge how I’m going to do this.”
“Fuck,” I say. “Goddamn it.”
“What?” Keith asks, squeezing my hand.
“His stupid fucking friends. All three of them were with him tonight. They were all fucking around with the girls that came with us, so I didn’t even think about them,” I say.
“Do you know their names?” Abigail asks me.
“Um... Scott Michaels, Dylan Shaffer, and Shane Richardson,” I say.
“Scott is in the same class as you,” Keith says.
“Yeah,” I say.
“When do you have class again and what class is it?” Abigail asks.
“Monday at three,” I say. “It’s Social Psychology. How fucking ironic.”
“Okay. I am going to hide out in the back and just observe. I’ll probably watch you most of the day, so just assume I’m close by. I’ll text you occasionally, so you know where I am if you have any problems,” she says. “I am going to talk to all of them when I leave here.”
“They live together,” I say. “It’s 15189 Racker Drive. I’ve dropped Penny off there many times.”
“Perfect,” she says as she scribbles in her notebook. “I’ll talk to them together then.”
“Alone?” I ask. “That sounded shitty. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not shitty,” she says with a small smile. “I don’t like putting myself in positions where I’m interviewing potential suspects alone. It’s a policy that we aren’t alone also.”
“I assume something bad has happened?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “I… thought that having this badge somehow exempted me from becoming a victim of the crimes I see every day. I put myself in a position where I was alone in the home of someone accused of serial rape and… well he was definitely guilty.”
“I’m so sorry,” I frown.
“I tell you this because I want you to know that you are not alone,” she says. “Society might not want you to talk about it, but I promise there are people who will listen.”
“I just… I wish I hadn’t worn that stupid dress,” I say. “I just wanted to enjoy my birthday and feel good about myself. Instead, I invited someone to hurt me. I was a bitch to him so I’m sure that didn’t help.”
“No,” Abigail says. “It doesn’t matter what you say, do, or wear. No one has the right to touch you without your consent.”
“But…”
“But nothing,” she says. “I have seen victims be assaulted no matter what they are wearing or doing. Sometimes they are just sleeping, doing their job, jogging… you name it and someone has probably gotten raped doing it. Humans can be vile creatures and hurt others for no reason. The fault is the one who put their hands on you without permission. Clothing is not consent.”
“I just wanted to feel pretty for once,” I say with a broken voice as I wipe away my tears. “Now I just feel stupid.”
“Can I take her now? She needs to rest,”
“Yes,” she says. “The nurse said you are free to go when we are done. The kit will be processed in the next few days.”
“If there is no DNA does that mean that they will get away with it?” I ask.
“Not necessarily. I will be with you every step of the way and as long as the case is open, I will keep working it. Even if I end up having to work on other things, I still give attention to my unsolved cases.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Of course,” she says. “If you have to go to the dorm, I ask that you don’t go alone. If there’s any chance that he could be there,then I don’t advise being alone with him. I will talk to him and his friends, but I’m still going to treat this as though I don’t have any suspects. I don’t want to just blindly assume that it’s them and miss the actual perpetrators.”