“Maybe. I’m hoping she can tell us.”
Molina slowed as they approached Zandra’s room. She was about to enter when Daisy grabbed her arm.
“Wait.” Daisy bit at her lip.
Molina tilted her head, pointedly glancing at Daisy’s hand, still on her arm. “Yes, Miss Dawson?”
Daisy closed her eyes, not letting Molina go, almost as if she needed to hold on or fall down. “Was she sexually assaulted?”
Molina hesitated. “It appeared so.”
Daisy nodded, her eyes still closed. “And Trish?”
Oh, honey, Gideon thought sadly. Of course she’d been worried about that. But she hadn’t said a word, except for the one time she’d asked. She’d just been worrying all alone.
“No,” Molina said kindly. “The preliminary autopsy report made no mention of it.”
Daisy let out a huge breath. “Thank you. I mean, I called the coroner, but they hadn’t finished the report yet. And then all this other stuff happened. So just . . . thank you.”
Molina patted Daisy’s arm. “You’re welcome. This is her room. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Daisy muttered. “No pressure here.”
Zandra’s room was being guarded by an armed agent. Gideon knew the guy well enough to say hello, so he nodded as he passed through the door.
He got a sympathetic look in return. God, I must look like shit.
He sure felt like shit. Nevertheless, when Daisy took the chair next to Zandra’s bed, he took up the position behind her. Anyone getting to Daisy was coming through him first.
Daisy leaned in, her smile gentle. “Hey, Zandra, do you remember me?”
Zandra latched her gaze to Daisy’s face. “Daisy.”
“That’s right. I heard you wanted to talk to me.”
“Only you.” She glowered at Molina, Hunter, and Gideon. “Not them.”
“Well, this is the thing. Agent Hunter has to take your statement, so that we dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s so this asshole gets locked up and the key thrown away.”
“I want you to do it.”
“I would,” Daisy assured her, “but I’m not a cop.”
Zandra blinked her surprise. “You’re not?”
“No. I’m too contrary to be a cop. I just talk on the radio.”
“You have the voice for it.”
Daisy smiled. “Thank you. You sound so much better. Amazing what a little water can do, huh?”
Zandra tried to smile back but flinched when her lip started to bleed. “Can you get me a tissue?”
Daisy passed her the box. “Here you go. Now the guy behind me is my guy, okay? I get bouts of anxiety sometimes and he helps me stay calm. I’m thinking what you went through won’t be easy for you to say or for me to hear. I don’t want to flake out on you. Is it okay if he stays?”
Zandra dabbed at her bloody lip. “I hope he’s not a cheating rat.”
Daisy brushed a lock of Zandra’s hair from her forehead and continued lightly stroking her hair away from her face. “I heard your guy was a cheating rat.”
Tears welled in Zandra’s eyes. “I’d never been drunk once before that bar. Not once in my life.”
“And that one time, you meet the bastard who hurt you.”
Zandra nodded. “Does my family know I’m here?”
Daisy looked over her shoulder at Molina. “Do they?”
“They do,” Molina said. “Your parents and sister will be on the first flight tomorrow.”
“Good.” It came out as a small sob and more tears leaked from her eyes.
Daisy got a tissue and dabbed at Zandra’s eyes, then held her hand. “So, Special Agent Hunter has some questions for you. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Tom sat in a chair on the other side of Zandra’s bed. “Thank you for talking to me.”
Zandra appeared to narrow her eyes, but it was hard to tell because they were so swollen. Carson Garvey had done a real number on this woman’s face.
But at least she’s still alive.
“You look too young to be a special agent,” Zandra said.
Tom smiled. “I’m twenty-six and a half.” He emphasized the half as if he were a small child. “You got me because the other agent on this case is on her way back from Portland.”
Zandra had been smiling at the “and a half” comment, but her smile disappeared. “Danton, Eileen. Oregon,” she murmured.
“Yes,” Tom said quietly.
“She’s dead.”
“We know,” Tom said in that same quiet tone. It was making Gideon sleepy, dammit. “Can you tell us what he looked like?”
“He was six feet tall. Had an ordinary face. Not handsome, but not ugly. Not the kind to get women at a bar. He had no confidence. His eyes were dark brown. His nose was thin. Sharp. He was bald. All over. No body hair. He gloated about it. Said he’d never left any physical evidence behind him. Oh, and he had scratches on his upper chest.” She closed her eyes. “Did you find his house?”
“Yes,” Tom told her. “The dog took us there.”
She looked genuinely amused at that. “He’s a nice dog. What happened to him?”
“We took him to a vet,” Gideon said. “The one who takes care of the police dogs. He’s going to check him out and then we’ll find him a good home. He’ll be a hero.”
Zandra met his eyes. “Thank you. He is a hero. He saved me.” She closed her eyes. “So if you found the house, did you find the cabinet?”
“Yes,” Tom whispered. “You memorized some of the names. How did you do that?”
“I could see a few of their licenses. I just kept repeating their names over and over.”
“Why?” Tom asked.
“Because I wanted their families to know what happened to them when I got away. He kept saying that nobody cared what happened to them. That nobody was looking for them. That nobody cared that I was gone. But I didn’t believe him.”
“Good,” Tom praised warmly. “How did you get away?”
She huffed a bitter laugh. “Sydney. God, what a psycho bitch. She busted in the room calling me a whore. Said I couldn’t have him. Said she’d put the best years of her life into him, that I wasn’t going to just waltz in and take him. I mean, I thought at first she was going to help me, but she gave me the split lip. Did you find her?”
“Not yet,” Tom said, which was the right response because they hadn’t made a positive ID of the body yet. “So she yelled at you and hit you. What then?”
“She untied me. Said that if I wanted one of my own, I needed to make one myself. To start early.” Zandra shuddered. “Said it was best to start them before they were ten years old. Twelve at the latest.”
Gideon had a hard time not cringing. Tom blinked once, but his composure didn’t crack. Not bad for a probie. Agent Hunter would do just fine.
Daisy, on the other hand, held on to Zandra’s hand but stuck a trembling hand in her bag. It was an awkward position and no doubt poor Brutus was getting mauled. Gideon gently pulled her hand from the bag, scooped Brutus out, and put the dog on her lap. Her look of gratitude was unmistakable.
Zandra blinked. “Is that a . . . dog?”
“Yes,” Daisy said, a trifle defensive. “She’s Brutus and she’s my service dog.”
A slow smile curved Zandra’s lips. “Can I pet her, too?”
Daisy knew that she really shouldn’t allow it because Brutus was working, but Zandra had been through so much. “Of course.” Releasing Zandra’s hand, she removed Brutus’s vest. “Shazam, Brutus,” she said, and put the dog on the bed so that they could both pet her. Brutus, in heaven, rolled to her back for a belly rub.
“She’s cute,” Zandra said. “She helps you?”
“Yes. I’m eight years sober. Brutus helps me control my anxiety, which helps me maintain my sobriety. You might consider one for PTSD. You know, once you’re home.”
“Maybe I will.” She drew a breath, then resolutely turned to Tom. “Sydney had a wild look in her eyes. I’m a prosecutor. I see criminals every day of the week. I’ve seen them high and mentally ill. I honestly couldn’t tell you which she was—hell, maybe both—but definitely it was one of them.”
Molina took a few steps forward, holding to the rail at the foot of the bed. “Did she tell you her name was Sydney?”
“Well, I figured it out. He . . .” She trailed off, her fingers busy in Brutus’s coat. “He kept demanding that I say I was sorry. Over and over but I wouldn’t. I had the feeling that that was what he was waiting for. That he needed me to say I was sorry. And once I did, he’d kill me. I kept hoping if I could hold out a little longer that someone would find me.”
“He said the same thing to me,” Daisy murmured. “To apologize.”
Zandra’s swollen eyes grew a little wider. “You? He got you?”
“He tried. Thursday night. I fought him off and got away. But I’d surprised him, I think. He really wanted my friend. Trish Hart.”
Zandra sighed. “Hart, Trisha. California.”
Daisy nodded. “Yeah. Did you see her necklace?”