Returning Injury (2 page)

She could hear him coming back with her key.

Her fragile sense of control quickly shattered when he was there on the other side of the door, key in hole, trying and succeeding in turning it. He was begging, then demanding to be let in. Rebecca tried with all her might to hold the deadbolt locked, but she couldn’t. She hoped his key would break, but the lock broke and her door flew open, pushing her back. She dropped into the fetal position to protect herself. He slammed the door, grabbed her hair and arm and dragged her kicking and screaming into the bedroom. He threw her onto the bed, straddled her and held her down.

Rebecca knew he would rape her. She was in shock.

“Did you call the police?” he hollered.

She didn’t answer.

He hit her across the left side of her head, and suddenly, she could only hear a sharp buzzing in her left ear. Her head was throbbing. Everything became an echoing, red blur. She cried, begging him to stop. She tried to cover her face and ear before the next blow, but her arms were pinned beneath his legs.

“Did you call the police?”

Again, Rebecca didn’t answer. If she answered yes, she feared she was in for a brutal beating or worse. If she answered no, she was in for a long night of torture. He punched her again and again.

But the physical pain couldn’t compare to the humiliation and degradation she felt for allowing another human being to treat her this way.

He yelled once more, “Did you call the police?”

That time Rebecca heard herself cry, “No,” through her tears, dreading that she’d given up the fight.

He jumped off her and ripped the bedroom phone cord from the wall, then rushed to the living room and yanked that phone cord, too.

Knowing this was her chance, Rebecca ran out of the apartment, out of the building and onto the stairs in the alley, screaming hysterically, “Help me! Help me! Call 9-1-1!” She clumsily hurried down the stairs holding tightly onto the railing. She feared he would kick her down the rest of the way. She turned to see if he was behind her as she hunched into a squat. She noticed her neighbor from across the hall looking out his window. She yelled to him, “Call 9-1-1!”

Roy stood at the top of the stairs, his face full of hate and anger. Holding his coat and shoes, he quickly turned and walked down the hall in the other direction.

Rebecca cautiously walked back to her apartment. She pulled his key from the lock and ran inside, leaving the door open. Her living-room phone was ruined so she rushed to her bedroom phone, all the while watching the door. Shaking, she plugged the line of her cordless phone back into the wall and finally made the call, 9-1-1.

Crying in dismay and shame, she stayed on the phone until the police arrived. Rebecca pressed charges. One officer left to look for Roy, the other took the report, while the third took pictures of her
broken lock, the black marks on her hardwood floor from her shoes where Roy dragged her and the clump of her hair that was on her pillow where he held her down. He took pictures of her swollen and already bruising face, ear and arms.

The officer who took the report drove her to the hospital and brought her home when she was finished, four hours later. He went inside her apartment with her to make sure Roy wasn’t there. He tried to persuade her to stay someplace else, but she refused. After looking around her place, the cop said he would keep an eye on the area and left.

When Rebecca was alone, she heard Buddy crying. During the attack, Buddy had forced herself under the stove, so Rebecca had to coax her out, and then she held Buddy’s trembling body against her trembling body. The effect on Buddy made Rebecca thankful that she was her cat and not her child.

Rebecca locked her broken lock the best she could. She stuck a butter knife in the molding for added support and put a chair in front of the door. Rebecca slept on the couch cradling the phone, afraid, humiliated and exhausted.

That was the last time she saw Roy Smythson, she thought, as she heard Jack getting off his phone.

Jack took her hand again.

“I’ll miss you,” Rebecca said.

“If you say that again, I’m going to start believing you.”

“I’ll miss you.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I really love you.”

He smiled. “What would you like to do next year for our anniversary? I have a few ideas, and I thought I should start planning now. But I’d like to hear what you would like to do before I book anything.”

“Can I think about it and let you know when you get back?”

“Of course. I’m thinking Argentina, Greece or…”

“I’ve always wanted to see Greece.”

“How about if you get a chance, see what you can find on the Internet, and we’ll talk about it when I get back,” Jack said. “You know, I’ve been thinking about buying a yacht, and I thought maybe we could lease one for two weeks to see if we like it. We could tour some of the islands in the Caribbean.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Rebecca started laughing.

“What?”

“I’m just picturing both of us sick hanging over the rail throwing up in the ocean.”

Jack started laughing. “Could happen. Remember us deep sea fishing?”

“Yes, that’s why it’s a good idea to lease before we buy. We might hate it.” Rebecca was still giggling.

“That deep sea fishing boat was small and the diesel smell was awful. I’m hoping to lease a ninety-two foot or bigger with three or more crew. I’ve made a few calls. It should run about forty to forty-five a week plus dockage, fuel and food.” Jack started laughing. “We were both green, remember?”

“How could I forget! I was so glad to be back on land after that experience.”

Jack’s phone rang again, and Rebecca’s mind drifted back to memories of Roy.

Roy ran.

For just over one year, she heard nothing about him or his case. She only knew that there was a warrant for his arrest and she was scared every day. She feared he was watching her.

Then Rebecca remembered coming home from work to find a white business envelope in her mailbox. She opened it as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. When she read State versus Roy Smythson, a wave of memories flooded over her and fear returned. She walked into her apartment and remembered everything as if it had happened just a few hours before. As her mind replayed the horror of that night, she began to cry. She didn’t want to go through it all again. She had moved, and moved on with her life. Time had passed. The pain had gone and most of her hearing had returned. Rebecca had put that night behind her. She didn’t want to go to court. She didn’t want to see Roy.

A simple piece of paper with State versus Roy Smythson was rewinding her life to a place she didn’t want to be. Though that night would never be forgotten, it had been dealt with and gently put behind her. Roy had already had two hearings. His next would be November thirteenth, Friday the thirteenth. If he pled not guilty, Rebecca would be dragged into court, not unlike being dragged into her bedroom on that horrible night so many months ago.

But before Rebecca could decide what to do, she had to return to the scene of the crime. She had to listen to her 9-1-1 call to remind
her of what Roy had done to her soul. Seated in the Fort Collins courthouse in a private room with a tape recorder, she pressed play. What she heard horrified her. She sounded weak, wounded and beaten down. She sounded like a scared child, not a strong woman.

She vowed she would never be that person again.

That was when Rebecca knew she had to face this and follow it through to the end. She went to court on Friday the thirteenth. His lawyer was there, but Roy was a no-show. They issued another warrant, and Rebecca plunged back into her state of fear, not knowing if Roy would stalk her again or hurt her.

Initially, Rebecca stayed very involved with the case. She wanted to fight for her rights and, in doing so, fight for the rights of all women and victims. She wanted to do the right thing and leave her mark along the way, not the dragging marks on the floor from a victim, but strong marks in the law for other women.

But by the time the law caught up with Roy again, Rebecca was out of the loop. Too much time had passed, and Rebecca had changed. She had a future she was excited about that didn’t include dredging up her past. She didn’t go back to court and didn’t hear another word about Roy—until she and Jack were in New York a month ago.

Jack and Rebecca were staying in a suite at the Four Seasons in Manhattan. Jack was there on business and Rebecca went along to visit her mother and meet with some clients and potential media contacts. The day before they headed home, Rebecca was in the bathroom when her cell phone rang. She was dancing around to hip-hop on the radio and drying off when Jack told her, “Somebody called you while you were in the shower.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t answer it.”

“It was probably my mom,” she said as she started putting on her makeup.

“It’s nice of her to take us out for lunch. What time will she be here?”

“Around noon.” Rebecca headed to the living room to check her phone and Jack jumped into the shower. There was a message from a number she didn’t recognize. She listened to the message, then slowly set the phone down on the table. Rebecca was stunned. She called the number back and talked to the woman who left the message. After hanging up, Rebecca’s mind raced but she didn’t know what to do, so she stayed sitting on the couch.

Jack came out of the bedroom. “What’s wrong?”

“Remember I told you about that guy, Roy? Well, I guess he’ll be released from prison next month and they wanted to warn me.”

“He went to prison? For how long?”

“Five years,” Rebecca answered, dazed.

“Reb, did you tell me everything? That’s a long time.”

“Yes, I told you everything, but it was a long time ago. I hardly remember that night myself,” Rebecca lied. And she didn’t know if she had told Jack everything. Did she just tell him he stalked her, or did she tell him that he busted her eardrum and bruised her body, face and self-worth? Did she tell him that he said he loved her and wanted to be with her? Did she tell him she feared being raped by him? She didn’t know.

“Five years is a long time.”

“I guess while he was on the run, he committed an armed robbery.” She shook her head in disbelief. “And remember he was on the run for a couple years. He probably got more time for that.”

“No, Rebecca. That’s not what I mean. He deserved ten years or more for what he did to you. I’m just thinking that five years is a long time to sit and plan revenge.”

“Why would you say that to me?” Rebecca snapped angrily. “You think he’s coming after me?”

“I’m just saying we have to be careful,” Jack backpedaled. “I’m sure he has better things to do with his life now. He probably got counseling, and he’ll have to check in with a parole officer, right? I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

“You know, you are giving me mixed messages! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’m talking about either. I’ve just never been mixed up in anything like this before. I don’t know what to say or do. Should I get you a bodyguard? Should I put a trace on him?”

Rebecca closed her eyes and took a deep breath herself. “Okay. Sit down and listen to me.” She patted the couch next to her.

Jack sat down.

“I am going to write the date of his release on my calendar. I will not worry about it or think about it until then. I want you to do the same. When we get to next month, we will pay attention for a while and if nothing strange happens, then it’s fine. I’m sure I will get a call if he leaves town or skips out on seeing his parole officer. This happened such a long time ago, can we please leave it alone. I’ll
remind you about this in a month and then we can worry if we want to, okay? Deal?”

“Deal.”

They shook hands, then Jack kissed hers. “I love you and I won’t let anything happen to you,” Jack said.

“I love you, too. I won’t let anything happen to you either.” She smiled, and they finished getting ready.

On her way home from the Billings airport, she had to drive across the state line back into Wyoming. She drove the long, hilly country roads deep in thought. The mountains were barely visible because of the cloudy weather, and the trees were beginning to change colors. She drove past several pastures filled with horses and a donkey in the mix, the theory being that donkeys hated coyotes and would attack them.