“Wait? Colorado?”
“I thought I saw him in a mall in Colorado Springs, but he didn’t see me. He finally turned and I don’t think it was him. His nose was too big.”
The sergeant fished out a more mug shot—profile and forward—that was newer than the photo and the pencil sketch.
“Oh God,” she said.
“Is this the man you saw in Colorado?”
“Maybe it was. He was kind of far away. But I followed him for a while because I thought it might be him and I had to know. But I was on crutches. I had a sprained ankle. I wasn’t moving very fast.”
“He didn’t approach you?”
“No. And he was gone before I could verify it was him. The story of my life—seeing my nightmare over and over and never being sure.”
“Did he say anything that night? Anything memorable?”
“I asked him what he hit while we were driving and he said, ‘Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t driving. You were driving.’ But I wasn’t. I couldn’t have driven if my life depended on it.”
“I believe that’s enough for today,” Cal said. “Ms. Jones is not under arrest and doesn’t have to—”
“We could arrest you for obstruction,” the detective said. “You were with him in the car and it was 1.7 miles from that gas station that the cyclist was hit. He might’ve died but for the fortuitous presence of a passerby with medical knowledge who came along less than a minute later.”
“Obstruction from a girl who was drugged and raped? That will never get by a judge,” Cal said. “Her head is clearly lolling on the tape and he gets behind the wheel.”
“I have medical records,” she said. “I didn’t report it to the police but I went to a clinic. I was bruised and injured and afraid of disease. I had showered but they did a rape exam anyway. Since the police weren’t involved they didn’t have evidence. But they have records. It was the Macmillan Women’s Clinic.”
The detective looked at his watch. “We’ve been at this all day and it just occurred to you to mention medical records?”
“I talked all day! I answered all your humiliating questions in front of my brother!” She looked at him. “Cal, I’ve had enough.”
“We’re done here. We won’t be answering any more questions without a warrant. You pretty much squeezed her dry. If you have any more questions, we’ll be in Colorado.”
He took Sierra’s elbow to lead her away.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “My turn. You’ve been looking for him? For the hit-and-run?”
“Among other things,” the detective said. “You’re going to have to be very cautious, ma’am. Craig Dixon is a dangerous man.”
“Why are you looking for him?”
“Rape, for one thing.”
“But I don’t want to testify against him! He terrifies me! And if for any reason he isn’t put in prison...”
“Let’s worry about that when we have him in custody,” the sergeant said. “For now, my advice is, caution.”
“Well, he was certainly right about one thing,” she said. “I’ll never forget him.”
The detectives sat stone-still and silent. The sergeant from the sexual assault unit leaned forward. “What were his exact words, please?”
“He said, ‘You’ll never forget me now.’ And then he walked away.”
The men looked at each other. “That’s a wrap. You can go. Make sure we’re able to reach one or both of you. If you change cell numbers, please contact us. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Cal led her away. “You all right?”
She shrugged. “A little beat up. Why were they so hard on me if they know he’s the bad guy?”
“They had to be convinced you weren’t a co-suspect in that hit-and-run but, more important, they want to know if you can lead them to their suspect.”
“Lead them! Don’t they understand I’d be running in the other direction?”
“I’m pretty sure they understand that now. I wondered why this much energy was being spent trying to find him for a hit-and-run when the victim has made a full recovery. Sierra, the man has obviously raped other women. They connected the dots—found his face on that hit-and-run film. They might never have found him if there hadn’t been a felony hit-and-run. That tape would never have been viewed in the first place if there hadn’t been a crime and investigation. That’s why they were looking for you. They tied your car to their suspect. I have a feeling, based on what you’ve said and their questions, they’re looking for a predator. A serial rapist. Or worse.”
She couldn’t speak. Finally she said, “Won’t the other victims bring him to justice?” she asked.
“And what if they can’t?” Cal said.
“Can’t?” she repeated shakily. “Dear God.”
The privilege of a lifetime is to become
who you truly are.
—C. G. Jung
Chapter 17
SIERRA WAS JUST too tired to call Connie. She wasn’t about to explain all this over the phone. But she saw his texts and he’d added another one with a picture of him with Molly. She finally wrote back, I miss you guys, too. Sorry, I’m exhausted and hungry. Tomorrow will be better.
He must have been sitting on the phone. He texted back instantly. If you needed me, I would come.
The sweetest man alive, she thought. She didn’t think she deserved him. She texted back, I’m okay. I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Thank you for being so wonderful.
They went out for dinner in the hotel, then to bed. She slept incredibly well for someone who had just surmised that the only way this monster would go to jail was if she faced him and accused him. And she was sure she wouldn’t be able to.
But God was watching out for her. She didn’t even dream.
The next morning they picked up a copy of her medical records. Cal called Charles—Sergeant Tilden—who had interviewed them and arranged to have the mug shot of Craig Dixon emailed to him. Then they headed for the airport. Cal changed their flight, but they weren’t going right home. They flew to Des Moines and rented a car, making the two-hour drive to the little farming village where Marissa and Jed Jones lived. Given their parents were overly sensitive to drop-in guests, even their own children, Cal called and told his mother that he and Sierra were passing through and wanted to stop by and say hello in the morning.
“Say hello?” Sierra asked with a laugh. “Is that what we’re doing?”
“We’ll say hello, ask if they need anything, ask Marissa if the man whose picture I have on my cell phone was the one who came to the farm looking for you.”
“You think she’ll even remember? It was over a year ago!”
“I’d be satisfied with her best guess.”