Good Morning, Killer - April Smith [45]
The offender was not able to get an erection.
“His filthy underwear was in my face. He said, ‘Are you a virgin?’ and I couldn’t answer so he’d grab my hair and make my head nod and he said, ‘You’re not a virgin. You’ve done this before. You love it. You’re good at it. You love it. Does this do it for you?’ and make my head nod like I was a doll. He was heavy, and I couldn’t breathe, and it went on and on. I could not believe this was happening on the roof of the parking structure. I thought I would never get out of that van alive. It was worse than a nightmare. He kept telling me what to do, like, ‘Suck on it,’ over and over and making my head nod, or banging it against the floor, and this went on and on until finally he, I guess you’d say, ejaculated down my throat and all over my face, and I started heaving like I was going to throw up and he got off me and said, ‘Spit,’ and I spit into a filthy rag, a rag you’d wipe the engine of a car with, then he rubbed it into my face and all over my breasts. I thought at least it was over, I was coughing, but then all of a sudden he put this thing, they said it was a chain, around my neck and strangled me until I almost blacked out. He did that over and over again. It was like he held me underwater. I tried to fight, but he was too strong. All I could say was, ‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Finally he told me to sit up and quit crying. ‘You’re my woman now,’ he said, which struck me as so stupid I started to laugh. ‘You think that’s funny?’ he said, but he was smiling. He tucked in his shirt, and it seemed to take a long time. He fussed until the buttons of the shirt were lined up with the buckle on his pants. Then he pulled a cooler out of the netting and I thought, Oh my God, what does he have in there? but it was only sodas and sandwiches. ‘Want a Coke?’ he asked like a normal person, the person he was like on the bench. While he was busy getting it, I was looking around to escape. I remembered hearing you should never, never get into a car with them, and I knew if we drove away he’d definitely kill me. I thought if I could get to the back doors fast I could jump out, even with the handcuffs, before he turned around, but then he turned around. I was still naked on top, but also smeared with oil from the rag and disgusting stuff all over me. I felt totally filthy and degraded, but I wanted to live; so I decided to do whatever he said and try to be nice to him. I made up my mind about that. He wouldn’t let me hold the Coke. He fed it to me until I drank it all. Then he said, ‘Lie down and die.’ I felt really drunk and passed out.”
After a few minutes of silence there was body movement and a couple of sighs of disgust. Handcuffs were brought out and fiddled with.
“We believe he drugged her with Rohypnol or GHB,” I told the team. “She doesn’t remember much of the rest of the assault, but we have forensic evidence—the lab report is also in your packet—that gives an emerging picture of the scenario. The big question now is, where?”
“How about who?” cracked Andrew to a couple of guffaws.
I smiled. “Hopefully this guy,” pointing to the composite.
“We are fortunate the victim was taken to a rape treatment center where the evidence was collected in a correct and timely manner and the victim was given compassionate care,” added Rick. “We all know horror stories of mishandling of evidence. For reference, see the sexual assault victim questionnaire put out by the NCAVC.”
Rick, I noted, was a bit of a professor.
“Ana’s going to profile the suspect, then we’ll talk about assignments based on new evidence. She’s been up day and night on this case so I think we owe her our thanks.”
Desultory applause.
I stood, notes in hand.
“We’re looking at a power-assertive serial rapist. A man whose issues revolve around being seen as masculine. He wants people looking at him. He takes care of his body. He’s finicky about it. He doesn’t like dirt. These attacks are out of anger.
“I characterize him as a serial rapist