Whispering Rock (3 page)

“You should probably go now.”

He lifted his head and saw Brie standing in the open patio doors, wearing the same clothes she had worn home from the hospital. “Brie,” he said, rising.

“I’ve talked to the detectives several times. Jerome Powell, the rapist, was tracked as far as New Mexico, then the trail was lost,” she said, very businesslike. “I can tell you from experience, the odds are at least ninety-five percent he’s gone—pulled a territorial. I’m going to start counseling and group
therapy right away—and I’ve decided not to go back to work for a while. Jack and Mel insist on staying the rest of the week, but you should go. Visit your family.”

“Would you like to come and sit with me?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’ll talk to the D.A. every day, see if he turns up anything new. Of course I’m staying here. If I need any assistance in the police department, I have an ex-husband who’s feeling very guilty. And very helpful.” She took a breath. “I wanted to say goodbye. And to thank you for trying to help.”

“Brie,” he said, taking a step toward her, his arms open.

She held up a hand, and the look that came into her eyes stopped him where he was. She shook her head, kept her hand raised against him. “You understand,” she said, warning him not to get too close, not to touch her.

“Of course,” he said.

“Drive carefully,” she said, disappearing into the house.

O
ne week later Mel and Jack returned to Virgin River to resume their routine. Mel went into Doc’s every morning, the baby with her for the day. If something urgent came up, she could always take the baby over to Jack at the bar, or if Jack wasn’t there, Paige or Preacher or Mike were more than willing to babysit. For the most part, David could be counted on to remain content for the half hour or so Mel needed to see a patient as long as she had the bouncy seat with her and he was neither hungry nor dirty. He still took two long naps a day—one in the morning and one in the afternoon.

Mel had been back from Sacramento less than two weeks when a teenage girl from Virgin River came to Doc’s and asked to see her. Carra Jean Winslow was fifteen and Mel had never seen her before. In fact, even though Mel had lived and worked in Virgin River for just over a year, she didn’t know the girl’s parents. Taking note of her age and obvious anxiety, Mel took her to an examining room before asking her what she needed. When a fifteen-year-old girl who didn’t cough or wheeze or bring her parents came in to
see the nurse midwife, the possibilities seemed pretty limited and obvious.

“I heard there was a pill that could keep you from getting pregnant if, you know, you had sex,” she said. She said it very quietly, looking at her feet.

“Emergency birth control. But it’s only effective if the intercourse has been very recent.”

“Two nights ago,” she said weakly.

“That’s recent enough,” Mel said, trying to put her at ease with a smile. “Any problems? Pain? Bleeding? Anything?”

“Bleeding. There was some bleeding.”

“First time?” Mel asked, smiling kindly. The girl nodded. “Have you ever had an internal exam before?”

She shook her head and looked down again.

“I’d like to check you, make sure everything is okay. It’s not as terrible as you think,” Mel said, touching her arm gently. “How much bleeding?”

“Not too much. A little… Getting better…”

“How do you feel? There?”

She shrugged and said, “Still a little sore. Not bad.”

“That’s good. I assume, if you’re interested in emergency contraception, you didn’t use a condom….”

“No,” Carra answered.

“Okay, we can handle this. Can I get you to undress and put on a gown for me?”

“My mom… No one knows I’m here.”

“That’s all right, Carra. This is between you and me. I’m only interested in your health. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Everything off, just the gown.”

Poor thing, Mel thought. She ached for young girls who had just stumbled into this sort of thing without planning,
without being sure. And that described almost all young girls. But at least she was here, avoiding yet another disaster. She gave Carra plenty of time to get undressed, but didn’t leave her waiting long enough to tangle up her nerves, then returned to the exam room.

“Let’s get a blood pressure and listen to your heart first,” she said briskly.

“I have to pay you myself,” Carra said. “I don’t want my parents to know about this.”

“Carra, confidentiality is important in this office—you can trust that,” she said. “This is all going to work out.” She applied the blood pressure cuff, noting there were a few small bruises on the girl’s upper arm. “You have a couple of bruises here,” she said.

“It’s nothing. It was…volleyball. It can get a little rough sometimes.”

“Looks like someone grabbed you,” Mel suggested.

The girl shrugged. “It happens.”

Mel got the blood pressure, which was normal. She listened to Carra’s heart, looked in her eyes, checked her pupils. Except for the nervous pounding of her heart, she seemed to be in good shape. She showed her the speculum, explained the procedure and eased her carefully into position for the pelvic. “Nice and slow, feet right here, slide down for me. That’s it. Try to relax, your knees apart, honey. Thank you. This isn’t going to be bad at all, so take some deep breaths and try to relax.”

“Okay,” she said, and began to softly cry.

“No crying now,” Mel said gently. “Everything is going to be all right, because you came to see me right away.” She gently parted the girl’s knees and was frozen. Her labia were bruised and swollen; there were bruises on the insides of her
thighs that bore a striking resemblance to the bruises on the girl’s upper arm. An unmistakable thumbprint and fingers. Oh, God damn. Mel stood from her stool and looked over the drape at Carra’s face. “Carra, I can see that you’re very sore. Bruised and swollen and a little torn. I’d like to proceed, take a closer look to be sure everything is all right. But only if you’re up to it. Are you okay?”

She pinched her eyes closed, but nodded.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can,” Mel said. She put on her gloves but set the speculum aside. “I’m just going to check your vagina and uterus, Carra—I’m not going to use the speculum because you’re sore. I’d like you to take a deep breath for me, then let it out slowly. That’s it,” she said. “It’ll just take a minute. Don’t clench. Relax your muscles, Carra. There you go, very good. Tell me, does this pressure hurt?”

“Not so much,” she answered.

Why do these things always come in batches? Mel thought. I’m not over Brie! Carra’s vaginal wall was torn, ragged. Raw. Her hymen was ripped open and looked like so many little fingers. She completed her exam quickly, and while she didn’t have a rape kit handy, she did have a sterile swab with which she took a vaginal specimen, although it could be too late for any DNA recovery.

“Okay, Carra, let me help you sit up.” Mel snapped off her gloves and helped Carra get herself settled, legs dangling off the table. “I’m concerned about what happened to you, Carra. It looks like you’ve been hurt. Want to tell me about it?”

She shook her head and a couple of big tears spilled over. Carra was a plain girl with an oblong face, bushy, unshaped brows and a small problem with acne. And right now, a really bad case of regret and fear and nerves.

“It will be confidential,” Mel said tenderly. “It’s not just
the bruises, Carra. Your vagina looks ragged. Torn. The damage isn’t serious. It’ll heal. But from everything I can see—”

“It was me. It was my fault.”

“Something like this is never a woman’s fault,” she said, and she used
woman
purposely, although this was a mere girl. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, and we’ll go from there.”

“But you’ll give me that pill?” she asked desperately.

“Of course. We’re not going to let you get pregnant. Or sick.”

She took a deep breath, but it brought the tears harder. “I just changed my mind when it was too late, that’s all. So it’s my fault.”

Mel touched her knee. “Go back to the beginning. Nice and easy.”

“I can’t,” she said.

“Sure you can, honey. I’ll just listen.”

“We decided we were going to do it. He got all excited about that—he said he was sorry after. We’d already started…. He couldn’t stop.”

“He could,” she said. “I can see the bruises from his fingers, like he held you down, held your legs apart. I can see the marks, the tears. Let me help you.”

“I wanted to, though.”

“I know, Carra. Until you didn’t. And you told him no, didn’t you?”

She shook her head. “No. I wanted to.”

“If you said no at all, that’s rape, Carra. Date rape.”

Carra leaned forward, her position pleading. “But I’ve done things with him. Lots of things. And I wanted to.”

“Have you ever had intercourse before?” She shook her
head. No. “You can say no right up to the last minute, Carra. That’s the law. And it doesn’t matter what you did with him before. Tell me—is this a boyfriend? Or someone you’ve only known a little while?”

“I’ve known him a long time from school, but he’s been my boyfriend a couple of weeks.”

But they’ve done a lot? Mel was asking herself. “Carra, he moved pretty fast. I want you to think about this. A couple of weeks. This is one determined guy. How old is he?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, I’m not telling you any more. I’m not getting him in trouble. It wasn’t his fault. It was my mistake, but he’s sorry.”

“Okay, listen—don’t get yourself all upset. If you change your mind and want to talk about this, you just call me. Or come to see me. Doesn’t matter when. Let’s get you on a dependable birth control and—”

“No. I’m not doing it again,” she said, holding her mouth in a tight line while tears wet her cheeks.

Oh, she’d been raped. Sounded as if she didn’t even have much of a date, Mel thought. “Carra, if you continue to see this boy, this man, it’s going to happen again.”

“I’m not doing it again,” she said firmly. “I need that emergency pill. That’s all.”

“That’s all for right now,” Mel said. “I want you to come back in a week or two, so we can test for STDs and be sure you’re healing up. It’s too soon for anything to turn up today, this soon after exposure. But this is really important. Will you do that?”

In the end she agreed, but she wouldn’t accept birth control. In a very businesslike tone she asked Mel, “How much?”

“Forget it, Carra. This one’s on the house. Call me if you
need me. Anytime. I mean it—anytime. Night or day. I’ll write down the number here and my number at home for you. Okay?”

“Thanks,” she said meekly.

After all that, the thing that really tore at Mel’s heart was seeing her patient ride away on her bicycle. The girl wasn’t even old enough to drive a car. And she pedaled while standing up—her tender bottom couldn’t handle the seat.

Mike Valenzuela called Brie. He couldn’t help himself. It had been two weeks since he’d heard her voice. Jack was more than happy to keep him up-to-date on her recovery, how she sounded, but Mike needed more. “How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Pretty rugged. Kind of edgy and nervous,” she answered. “But then, it hasn’t been that long.”

“Physically?” he pressed.

“I… Ah… I guess the worst is over. The bruises are beginning to fade. But it’s amazing how long it takes a couple of ribs to heal.”

“Jack says you took an extended leave of absence from the prosecutor’s office,” Mike said.

“Did he tell you why?” she asked.

“No. And you don’t have to tell me. Don’t make yourself uncomfortable.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said coldly. “Because I can’t work like that—when I can prosecute a suspect for rape and he gets off.” She laughed bitterly. “On
me!
”

“Oh, Brie,” he said, sympathetic. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“If I get a chance, if they find him, I’m going to
bury
him. I’ll put him away for life. I swear to God.”

Mike took a deep breath. “You’re one of the bravest
women I’ve ever known. I’m proud of you. If there’s anything I can do…”

“It’s nice of you to call,” she said more softly. “Not many people besides family are brave enough—I guess they’re afraid of what they might hear. Does Jack know you called?”

It wouldn’t be long before Jack found out, Mike thought. Sam had answered the phone, asked who was calling before putting her on. “I didn’t call you because you’re Jack’s sister, but because you’re my friend and I wanted to know how you are. I don’t really care if Jack’s okay with it, only if you are.”

“I’m okay with it. His protective nature usually just amuses me. Or annoys me. But not at the moment,” she said. “It feels kind of like a shield, just knowing how he is.”

“I’d be protective if you were my sister, too,” Mike said. “I’m feeling protective myself, though there’s not much I can do but call and talk. I think this is what happens to everyone around the crime, Brie. We all have our responses—from the victim to her friends and family. It’s all part of the healing process. I watched my friends and family go through that, too. It’s one of the reasons I came up here—it was becoming oppressive. Their need for me to heal so they could feel better.”

“I keep forgetting that,” she said. “That’s how self-absorbed I’ve become. You’re a crime victim, too.”

“You’re supposed to be self-absorbed right now. Self-protective. Focused.”

“And that’s how you were?” she asked him.

“Ohhhh.” He laughed. “I wish you could’ve seen my routine. I started out the day by crawling out of bed crippled, the pain terrible. I dosed up on the anti-inflammatory, iced down my shoulder and groin, drank Mel’s protein supplement drinks that would gag a maggot, and then started my exercises with one-pound weights—so light, so nothing. And it would
make me almost cry. Then I’d have to lie down. It took me two months to do a sit-up—and Mel would help me with the physical therapy on my shoulder every day, but not until afternoon, not until I could drink a beer first to take the edge off. She’s little, you know, but you shouldn’t let that fool you—she can pull and push and grind on an injured muscle until you beg like a baby. My life was all about getting my body back.”

“I wish this was just about my body,” she said softly.

“There were also nightmares,” he said quietly, almost reluctantly. “I’d like you to know—I’m not having them anymore.” And he thought, you just don’t realize yet how much of this is going to end up being about your body. He had at least a passing knowledge of what rape and assault victims went through. It was going to be a long time before Brie would have a healthy sexual relationship.

Afterward, Mike was pretty astonished that Jack made no mention of his call to Brie. It could mean only one thing—neither Brie nor Sam had mentioned it, and he wasn’t sure why. He gave brief consideration to bringing it to Jack’s attention himself. He could explain his concern easily—he had a few things in common with her at the moment and might be able to offer support. But in the end, he said nothing. He didn’t feel like an odd three-way, checking in with Jack about his feelings for Brie. Nothing had changed in the way he felt toward her, except that at the moment they were
both
crippled.

The middle of July was steamy and wet, and Mike called her every couple of days, and still Jack said nothing. It seemed to Mike that she took his calls as if looking forward to them a little bit. They rarely talked about the crime and her recovery, but about mundane things. His fishing, what she was reading or watching on TV, weather, Sam and her sisters and
nieces, letters that Ricky—a kid from town who had been Jack’s and Preacher’s young protégé and helper in the bar—was writing home from USMC basic training.