Most of all, she'd have her revenge. Revenge on every man who had ever taken liberties with her since childhood. They'd all told her they loved her, fucked her, then left her. She was going to get even for every man who had required sex for her to get the things she wanted-no, deserved-in life. And for every man who had ever stood between her and those things Alexis Michalik would pay the price.
"I would never want to be with a woman like you," he said quietly, looking up. "A whore. An evil person. If I gave an evil person what they wanted, I would be evil myself…so no matter what the cost, you can go to hell."
Ryder listened to the statement with a smile on her face. "Oh, Alex, that really hurts," she said, then sniffed. "But thanks, I'll use it to get into character." She promptly burst into tears and ran over to the door, which she flung open, nearly scaring the secretary out of her seat.
"Miss, are you all right?" the secretary asked.
Ryder wiped a tear from her eye and swiped at her nose. "Ask him," she wailed and pointed back into the inner office. "Ask your boss, Mr. Michalik." She sobbed once more and then ran from the office.
A few minutes later, Ryder appeared in the office of the university vice president of student affairs where she promptly burst into tears. "I…I…was raped," she gasped. "Alexis Michalik. I asked for his help on my master's thesis…but he raped me." The male vice president of student affairs listened to her story and immediately sent a campus security officer to escort Michalik from his office.
"Tell him to go home and remain there until he is contacted by this administration or the New York Police Department," the vice president said. He was rewarded for his swift, decisive action with a smile from Sarah's beautiful, trembling lips.
A female police detective arrived and took her initial statement. Sarah had gone to Michalik's office to get help with her thesis. He'd been coming on to her a lot lately, but she thought it was just harmless flirting. Saying she needed to relax, he'd given her a beer. "Suddenly I couldn't think straight," she said. "It was as if I was in one of those dreams where you want to wake up, but you can't." The next thing she knew, her jeans and panties had been removed and her wrists were tied to the office couch.
Ryder paused, as if gathering herself for the stretch run. She burst into tears. "And then he raped me," she cried. "I think he was wearing a condom. But when he was finished, he still wiped himself on my blouse."
The detective reached for her hand. "That's okay," she consoled. "It wasn't your fault. These things aren't about sex; it's about power and control. These guys are predators."
Ryder grew impatient waiting for the detective to ask the right questions. "You know," she volunteered, "there was this guy…I was coming out of the building after…after…I was attacked. I was still groggy so I don't remember everything, but I think I told him that I'd been raped. He seemed concerned, but I don't remember what happened from there."
The detective scribbled furiously in her notebook. "A witness, that's great," she said. "Did you know this guy? Ever seen him before or know how we can contact him?"
Ryder shook her head. "No, I'm certain about that," she said. "I didn't know him from Adam."
"That's okay, he may still come forward," the detective said. In the meantime, they needed to go to the hospital for a rape examination.
"Oh, that reminds me," Ryder said. "I have all of my clothes from last night in this bag." She handed the bag to the detective. "I read a story in Cosmo once that rape victims shouldn't bathe or wash the clothes in case there is some DNA evidence."
"Well done, young lady," the detective said, patting her on the back. "That's using your head. A tough thing to do under these circumstances."
At the hospital, everything went as planned, except that she had to remind the crime lab photographer to take pictures of the marks on her wrists. Sloppy police work, she thought, no wonder criminals own the streets. She also felt she shouldn't have had to mention for a second time that shortly after she drank the beer, she felt drugged.
"Well then, we'll certainly need to take a blood sample," the examining physician said. "He may have slipped something in your drink."
No shit, Sherlock, she thought but said, "Do you really think so? I wondered about that but I just couldn't imagine someone famous like him doing something like that to one of his students."
A few minutes later, the doctor who examined Ryder came out and talked privately to the detective, who then walked over and relayed the information. "He said the preliminary examination shows trauma to your vaginal area as well as your anus consistent with sexual assault. Apparently you were torn up pretty good. They're going to send the vaginal and anal swabs to a lab for DNA testing-"
"I told you he wore a condom," Ryder reminded her.
"Yes, I know, but they check anyway so that the defense attorneys don't come up with some surprise attack. Don't sweat it." The detective hesitated as if embarrassed to ask the next question. "You said that you haven't had sex with anyone else within the past twenty-four hours?"
"What do you mean by that?" Ryder snapped.
"Nothing, we'd just have to explain evidence of other sexual activity, that's all," the detective said. "Sometimes these things come up and we want to be prepared."
Ryder thought about Vanders and the condoms. It would be just like him to forget, she thought. But she'd checked his bathroom trash can before leaving and there were two used rubbers lying on top of the tissue.
"No, I wasn't having sex with anyone else," she told the detective, willing a few more tears for sympathy's sake. "I know this sounds weird in this day and age, but I'm not into casual sex; I'm pretty celibate unless I'm in a strong, committed relationship. And, well, you know, I just haven't found the right guy."
"That's okay, sweetie," the detective said, handing her a tissue and taking one herself. "I know what you mean. Hell, I'm forty-five and I still haven't found Mr. Right, though I've met more than my share of Mr. Wrongs. I'm just sorry this happened to a nice girl like you. But I think we have enough to get a warrant for Michalik's arrest. Would you like me to drop you off at your apartment on my way back to the precinct house?"
Ryder agreed. "You will call and tell me when he's been arrested," she said when the detective pulled up in front of her building. "I'm afraid…afraid of him. He's awfully clever."
"Well, he wasn't smart enough to keep his pants zipped, now was he?" the detective replied. "Just try to get some rest. I'll call when we get him."
A few hours later, Ryder thanked the detective profusely when she called to announce the arrest of Alexis Michalik. "He'll probably make bail, but we'll let him know that under no circumstance is he to make contact with you or I'll be on him like white on rice," the detective said. "And we're still looking for your mystery witness. He'll pretty much drive a nail in this one."
Later, Ryder met with an assistant district attorney and a victim's advocate. The ADA interviewed her and seemed satisfied with her responses. "Before I leave, I want to explain a little about how this works," the young female attorney said. "Just because the police arrested Mr. Michalik doesn't mean the district attorney's office will charge him right away. We want to do this right, so that when we do go after him-and I think that I can say between me, you, and the wall, that we will be going after this creep-we nail his ass to the wall. The process can take a little while, but just stay patient and justice will prevail here."
That evening, Ryder reluctantly but graciously accepted telephone calls from reporters with the New York Post and the New York Times. It seemed that some anonymous caller had tipped them off to Michalik's arrest. "I've been told not to say anything at this time," she said. "But thank you for your concern."