Elena Estes - Dark Horse Part 44

"Was that Dugan?" Weiss asked.

"He's with the family."

"You talk to the girl yet?"

Before Landry could answer, the doctor came out of the exam room, looking. Landry showed her his

badge. "Detectives Landry and Weiss," he said. "How's she doing?" "She's quite shaken, as you might imagine," she said. She was a small Pakistani woman with gla.s.ses that magnified her eyes about three times. "She has a great many minor cuts, abrasions, and contusions,

though no evidence of broken bones. It looks to me as if she has been struck with something like a wire

or a whip of some kind."

"Signs of rape?"

"Some v.a.g.i.n.al bruising. Marks on her thighs. No s.e.m.e.n."

Like Jill Morone, Landry thought. They would have to hope for some other source of DNA from the

attacker, maybe a pubic hair.

"Has she said anything?"

"That she was beaten. That she was frightened. She keeps saying she can't believe he could do such a

thing."

"Did she give a name?" Weiss asked.

The doctor shook her head.

"Can we talk to her?"

"She is mildly sedated, but she should be able to answer your questions."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Erin Seabright looked like an escapee from the set of a horror movie. Her hair was a tangled blond ma.s.s

around her head. Her face was bruised, her lip split. She looked at them with wide, haunted eyes as

Landry and Weiss entered the room. Landry recognized the expression. He'd done a couple of years working s.e.x Crimes. He had discoveredquickly he didn't have the temperament for it. He couldn't keep a lid on his anger dealing with suspects.

"Erin? I'm Detective Landry. This is Detective Weiss," Landry said quietly, pulling up a stool beside the

bed. "You're a sight for sore eyes. A lot of people have been working hard to find you."

"Why didn't he just pay them?" she asked, bewildered. She held a plastic bottle of water in her hands,

and kept turning it around and around, trying to find some comfort in the repet.i.tive motion. "That was all

he had to do. They kept calling and calling him, and they sent him those tapes. Why couldn't he just do

what they said?"

"Your stepdad?"

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "He hates me so much!"

"Erin? We need to ask you some questions about what happened to you," Landry said. "Do you think

you can do that now? We want to be able to get the people who did this to you. The sooner you tell us

about it, the sooner we can do that. Do you understand?" She didn't answer. She didn't make eye contact. That wasn't unusual. Landry knew she didn't want tobe a victim. She didn't want any of this to be real. She didn't want to have to answer questions thatwould require her to relive what had happened. She felt angry and embarra.s.sed and ashamed. And itwas Landry's job to drag it all out of her anyway.

"Can you tell us who did this to you, Erin?" he asked.

She stared straight ahead, her lip quivering. The door to the examination room opened and she started to cry harder.

"He did," she said, glaring at Bruce Seabright. "You did this to me! You son of a b.i.t.c.h!"

She sat up in the bed and flung the bottle at him, water spraying everywhere as Bruce Seabright brought

his arms up to deflect the object from his head.

Krystal screamed and rushed toward the bed. "Erin! Oh, G.o.d! Baby!"

Landry stood up as the woman tried to fling herself on the bed. Erin pulled herself into a ball at the head

of the bed, cringing away from her mother, looking at her with hurt and anger and something like disgust. "Get away from me!" she shouted. "All you've ever done is side with him. You never cared about me!" "Baby, that's not true!" Krystal cried. "It is true! Why didn't you make him help me? Did you even do anything?" Krystal was sobbing, reaching out to her daughter, but not touching her, as if one or both of them were contained inside a force field. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Get out!" Erin screamed. "Get out of here! Both of you!"

A hospital security guard came in from the hall. Landry took hold of Krystal by the arms and moved her

toward the door.

Weiss rolled his eyes and muttered, "Nothing like a family reunion."

Molly's call came on the heels of Landry's. I was already pulling on clothes. I told her I would go to the hospital, though I knew I wouldn't get anywhere near Erin's room. If Bruce Seabright caught sight of me, I would end up being escorted from the building. If he had the right kind of pull with the right people, and had gotten a restraining order from a judge on a Sunday night, I could end up taking a ride to the county accommodations. I had been warned, after all.

All that said, I didn't think twice about going.

When I walked into the waiting room, Molly came running to me. She was pale with fear, eyes bright with excitement. The contradiction was the difference between relief that her sister was safe and apprehension about what might have happened to her that she had to be in a hospital.

"I can't believe Bruce let you come along," I said.

"He didn't. I rode with Mom. They're having a fight."

"Good for Mom," I muttered, steering her to the couches in the waiting area. "What are they fighting about?"

"Mom blames Bruce for Erin being hurt. Bruce keeps saying he did what he thought was best."

Best for Bruce, I thought.

"Will you get to talk to her?" Molly asked.

"Not anytime soon."

"Will I get to?"

Poor kid. She looked so hopeful, yet so afraid of disappointment. She didn't have anyone in this mess

but me. In her mind, the big sister she loved so much was her only real family. And who knew what resemblance there would be in Erin now compared to the Erin whom Molly had idolized just a week ago.

Knowing what I had learned about Erin over the last few days, I had to think Molly's perception had been a dream even before Erin had been taken.

I remembered thinking, the day Molly had first come to me, that Molly Seabright was going to learn that life is full of disappointments. I remembered thinking she would have to learn that lesson the way everyone did: by being let down by someone she loved and trusted.

I wished I could have had the power to shield her from that. The only thing I could do was not be another someone who let her down. She had come to me when no one should have, and bet on that dark horse I had tried to lecture Landry about.

"I don't know, Molly," I said, touching her head. "You probably won't get to see her tonight. It might bea day or so." "Do you think she's been raped?" she asked.

"It's a possibility. The doctor will have examined her and taken certain kinds of samples-" "A rape kit," she said. "I know what it is. I watch New Detectives. If she was raped, they'll have DNAsamples to match to a suspect. Unless he was particularly meticulous and used a condom, and made hertake a shower afterward. Then they won't have anything."

"We have Erin," I said. "That's all that matters right now. Maybe she can identify the kidnappers. Even ifshe can't, we're going to get these guys, Molly. You hired me to do a job. I won't quit until it's over.And it's not over until I say so."

It was a good line at the time. In the end, I would come to wish that I hadn't meant it.

"Elena?" Molly said, looking up at me with her earnest face. "I'm still scared. Even with Erin back, I still feel scared."

"I know you do."

I put my arm around her shoulders and she leaned her head against me. It was one of those small moments that I knew would remain stamped in my memory forever. Someone turning to me for comfort, and me being able to give it.

From somewhere in the ER came a crash and a scream and a lot of shouting. I looked down the hall that ran behind where Molly and I were sitting, and saw Bruce Seabright backing away from a door, looking stunned. Then Landry came out of the same room pushing a sobbing, hysterical Krystal along ahead of him.

"I'll find out what I can," I told Molly, knowing it was time to make myself disappear. "Call me in the morning."

She nodded.

I went past the reception desk to the ladies' room and ducked inside, betting Krystal wouldn't be far behind me. She came in half a minute later, crying, mascara striping her face, her lipstick smudged.

I felt sorry for her. In some ways Krystal was more a child than Molly. All her life she'd dreamed of having a respectable husband and a nice home and all the trappings. She had never imagined living the Barbie Doll life would have the same pitfalls as living poor. I'm sure it had never occurred to her that making bad choices in men crossed all socioeconomic borders.