She looked up at her screen and read through the call again. She wondered for a moment what made the woman wait so long to report it, or why she decided to report it now. Either way, as far as Janice was concerned, Heather Torin was a brave soul.
Janice smiled to herself. For a rainy day, this might actually turn out to be a good one.
0946 hours
Detective John Tower sat at the small kitchen table across from Heather Torin. Julie Avery perched on the edge of her chair next to her. She held Heather’s left hand in both of her own. Heather dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
“All I can remember is his eyes,” she told them both in a quiet voice. “They were so angry. So…hateful. And I was so scared.”
Julie patted her hand. Heather smiled at her through her tears.
Tower looked on, grateful for the connection that the two women seemed to have made. Although he’d interviewed scores of rape victims, he still felt uneasy asking the hard questions while trying to provide some kind of emotional support. Julie’s presence lifted one of those concerns from his shoulders and allowed him to focus on the investigative issues.
“Did he display any weapons, Miss Torin?” Tower asked.
Heather shook her head. “Just his…body.”
Tower nodded. “You mentioned that he was able to tear off your shorts and underclothing.”
“Yes.”
“Did he take off his own clothes?”
Heather shook her head again. “No. I think he was going to, but then he just…stopped.”
“Stopped?”
“Yes. He sort of shuddered and stopped.”
Tower glanced over at Julie, then back at Heather. “Do you think he-”
“Yes, Detective,” Heather said, nodding. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and I think that he…finished…you know, before he meant to.”
Tower nodded. A premature ejaculation. That would indicate significant sexual excitement on the suspect’s part, which somewhat shot to hell Julie’s theory about rape. His reaction to the information was strangely devoid of any satisfaction, however.
“Did he hit you after that?” Tower asked.
“No. I mean, he tackled me to the ground before that, but after?” Heather thought a moment, then shook her head. “No. He threatened me, though.”
“How?”
“He told me not to move. He called me names.”
“What did he call you?” Tower asked.
“Bitch,” Heather told him. “He called me a bitch and he said that if I moved, he’d lay the whammo on me.”
Tower’s eyebrows shot up. “He used that word? Whammo?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure about that?”
Heather swallowed, then nodded her head. “I’m sure. I hear it over and over again every night.”
Tower took a deep breath and leaned back.
Son of a bitch.
It was the same guy.
Heather watched him for a moment. Then she asked, “Is that important? What he said?”
Tower nodded. “It’s very important.”
“So…I did the right thing? Calling, I mean.”
Tower smiled warmly at her. “Yes, ma’am. You did a very brave thing today. And it was definitely the right thing to do.”
Heather Torin smiled back at him through her tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Tower reached out and touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
1011 hours
The cell phone didn’t have the greatest reception, but Janice could hear Tower’s voice well enough to understand him.
“Your hunch was right,” the detective told her. “This is definitely the same guy.”
A small thrill of satisfaction ran through her. “I hope it helps you catch him.”
“It might. But you catching it when you did probably got the information to me a day early, at least. I didn’t have to wait for a patrol officer to take the report, turn it in and have it make its way through the system. Who knows? It might have even slipped through the cracks somehow.”
“I doubt that,” Janice said.
“It happens sometimes. But either way, good work.”
“Thanks. I’m glad I could help.”
“You did.”
Janice glanced down at her incomplete crossword puzzle. “Hey, you know anything about history, John?”
“Huh?”
“I’m doing the crossword puzzle and I can’t get this one clue.”
Tower chuckled. “You and your crosswords.”
“I hate losing,” she said. “Besides, you owe me now, don’t you?”
Tower laughed. “You didn’t waste any time cashing in that chip, did you?”
Janice smiled, even though she knew Tower couldn’t see it. “Well, let’s face it. When are you ever going to have an opportunity to pay me back, anyway?”
“Touche,” Tower said. “What’s the clue?”
“It’s an ancient civilization, ending in E.”
“Uh…Rome?”
“No. Seven letters.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, Tower said, “You got me. History was never my strongest subject.”
“Oh, well. Thanks for trying.”
“No problem. Thanks for your help today.”
“You’re welcome.” Janice hung up.
“Were you right?” Carrie Anne asked her.
“Tower thinks so.”
“Yay!” Carrie Anne clapped lightly. “Great work!”
Elaine joined in with the clapping, but Irina studiously ignored them all.
She is kind of bitchy, Janice thought, but she smiled anyway.
1014 hours
Tower sat in his cruiser and focused on the pad of paper on his clipboard, scratching out notes of his interview with Heather Torin. Julie Avery remained inside with the victim, giving him an opportunity to record what she’d told him. As he wrote, an idea formed in his head.
The rain splattered on his windshield in a chaotic rhythm. It made him wonder about the rapist’s rhythm. His attacks had seemed to have no connections thus far. Renee had tried to find a pattern, but there wasn’t any. Time of day varied. There was no perceivable connection between any of the victims, nor did they seem to be any glaring similarities between the victims themselves. The only consistent thing had been his modus operandi. His method. His actions and words. And even that seemed to be changing.
Evolving.
That was the question Renee asked about him. Was he evolving? The answer, unfortunately, seemed to be a clear “yes.” He seemed to be evolving into something more violent each time out. Tower shared Renee’s concern that he might transition from rape to sexual homicide.
“The Rainy Day Killer,” Tower muttered. “The press would have a field day with that one.”
He figured his suspect probably would, too.
Tower stopped writing notes and leaned back in his seat. Maybe this was the break that Browning had promised would eventually happen. He knew this was the same guy. The M.O. was the same and the “whammo” phrase was too unique to be a coincidence. Up until now, those had been the only constants between the assaults.
Not anymore.
Now he had two assaults that occurred in the same location. The assault on Torin was somewhat bungled. Five weeks later, he hits again, this time successfully raping Patricia Reno.
In the same park.
“Why would he attack two women in the same place?” Tower asked aloud.
The rain pounded down on the hood and roof of his car. He thought about his own question for a few moments. Then he picked up his cell phone and dialed Renee’s number. She picked up on the second ring.
“Renee? It’s John.”
“John Tower,” she said. “My fourth favorite detective. What can I do for you?”
“Fourth? Who’s ahead of me?”
“Browning,” Renee answered matter-of-factly, “and then Finch and Elias.”
“I can understand Browning,” Tower conceded, “but Finch and Elias?”
“Seniority counts,” Renee said. “What’s up?”