AC05 - Death Mask (13 page)

Linda placed her elbows on the desk and her hands under her chin. ‘It’s one of the problems with these sorts of attacks. After Janson and McKenzie raped her, she said her head was held down, and she didn’t see who was behind her. As far as she can recall, she was assaulted by at least four men. She can’t identify who did and didn’t for sure. Which leaves us with a problem.’

Any defence lawyer would punch holes in the prosecution’s case. They could argue all number of things, from mistaken identity to innocence on all of the men’s parts. Any doubt as to whether or not every man had raped Kirsten could result in a jury acquitting them all.

‘I need to push for a group trial rather than trying them as individuals. That way a jury sees them as the hunting pack they are,’ Linda said.

‘Can I ask about evidence in the room?’ Ethan took out a notebook. ‘Did Crime Scene go over the place?’

The prosecutor flicked through the file. ‘The lawyers of the accused will find out soon enough. However, I can tell you there was no blood on the bed where Kirsten insists she was attacked.’

Anya found that difficult to believe given the rectal tear she had seen in the photo. ‘The rectal injury would have bled a significant amount. In fact, it could bleed on and off for days. When you say on the bed, what exactly did they check for?’

‘The police rang the hotel and made sure the rooms weren’t cleaned before they got there, but there was nothing on the sheets. No bodily fluids, no hairs, no blood and no semen.’ She double-checked the report. ‘They did, however, find signs of ejaculate on the floor.’

‘And I bet they found semen all over the mattress if they looked under the sheets,’ Ethan said. ‘It is a hotel bed.’

The thought made Anya uncomfortable. She was going back to sleep in one of those hotel beds tonight. Either the players cleaned the room themselves, or there were problems with Kirsten’s story. She was careful not to name the woman in front of Ethan. ‘What about the clothes the victim was wearing that night?’

‘It’s a dress and it does have her blood on it. The lab techs are still working on it.’

‘Was she a groupie?’ Ethan wanted to know. ‘A regular at those parties?’

Linda placed her glasses on the file. ‘Are you suggesting a groupie couldn’t have been gang-raped?’

‘No, of course not,’ he said, lifting his hands defensively. ‘But if the guys already knew her, or she chased them, you’ll have a much harder time proving rape in court. All those events are photographed, and if she’s turned up before she’ll have little credibility that she went back to the hotel room and didn’t expect to have sex.’

As much as Anya hated to admit it, Ethan was right.

But proving to a court that Kirsten had never met any of the footballers before that night would be near on impossible.

E
than returned to the hotel, while Anya accompanied Linda Gatby to the victim’s apartment. On the street outside, they had to fight through photographers and reporters. Even though this morning’s article had not named Kirsten, reporters had wasted no time in finding out who she was and where she lived.

‘I’ll get some uniforms down here to keep them out,’ Linda snapped. ‘This is harassment, and I’ll have them charged with stalking if they keep it up.’

The papers had not named Kirsten Byrne, but that was due to editorial policy, not law. An exclusive interview with the ‘unnamed victim’ in a high-profile case would be a coup, and there was nothing to prevent bloggers and fan sites revealing her identity. The media had historically chosen to protect rape victims by not naming them, but in an age of instant access to information this practice only seemed to pique the public’s interest in what victims might have to hide.

In response to their knock on the door of a fourth-floor apartment, an older woman appeared wearing pink rubber gloves and a dark blue apron.

‘I know who you are. But is this absolutely necessary to do now?’

‘I’m sorry if this is not a good time, but it’s important that we speak with Kirsten.’

Linda Gatby handed across her card and walked through the doorway. The apartment felt claustrophobic. Boxes were piled next to a sofa, and clothes were thrown into an open suitcase. With only one internal door, which seemed to lead to the bathroom, Anya assumed the sofa became the bed.

A young woman sat on a cushion on the windowsill, knees pulled up under an oversized shirt. Black leggings covered her legs.

‘It’s all right, Mom, I need to do this.’

She stood, slowly shuffled across, closed the suitcase and stood in the small area of free floor space. She was clearly still in pain from her injuries.

A small coffee table served as a dining area. Kirsten bent at the knees to clear a pile of books, which included
How to Succeed in Fashion
and
Building a Career in Fashion Design
, and placed them underneath.

She offered her visitors the sofa and sat, tentatively, where the books had been. Mrs Byrne retreated to the nook that was the kitchen.

Linda took out a legal pad and introduced Anya as a leading expert in sexual assault injuries. ‘I’m going to ask you to talk to her about the injuries. She may be called on to testify when we go to trial.’

The young woman nodded.

‘Are you planning on leaving town?’ the lawyer asked.

‘I’m taking my daughter home,’ Kirsten’s mother said. ‘This isn’t a safe place for a single woman. We tried to tell her that, but —’

‘Mom, please. I can speak for myself.’ Kirsten addressed Linda. ‘I’m going back to Louisville. I can’t stay here. Did you see all the people out front? What do they want from me? I didn’t do anything wrong but I feel like I’m a prisoner.’ She waved an arm in the direction of the window then closed her dark eyes. ‘You said it could take months before the case goes to trial.’

Linda’s voice softened. ‘I did, but it’s important that I always know where to contact you. It’s early days and I will need to talk to you a number of times leading up to the trial.’

‘I’m so scared. What if the men find out where I live?’ Linda sighed. ‘I understand you’re frightened. What you went through was horrific. But you survived and proved how strong you are. I’ll do what I can to make sure you’re left alone by those people downstairs.’

The mother used a knife to chip at ice in the freezer section of the fridge. ‘We need to leave this hellhole as soon as possible. Your father and I had no idea you’d been living like this.’

Anya wasn’t sure what the older woman meant. Was it the size of the apartment, the city, or something she was attacking in the fridge?

‘I had a place just like this when I started working at the district attorney’s office,’ Linda smiled warmly. ‘In fact, I think mine was smaller, and the bathroom was shared with the couple down the hall.’

Kirsten looked around. ‘I loved this place … until the other night. I felt safe here … It was supposed to be the beginning of a new life.’

‘It still is,’ Linda stressed. ‘That hasn’t changed.’

Mrs Byrne hacked harder at the ice.

Linda clicked her pen. ‘We do need to know exactly how you came to be at the Rainier Hotel two nights ago.’

Kirsten’s eyes lightened when she talked about her job. ‘We were looking at doing a line of clothing involving a high-profile footballer and Cheree thought Janson was a rising star. She wanted to offer him $500,000 plus five percent of net sales.’ The young woman leant over and retrieved a file from under the table. ‘This is a copy of what I took with me.’ She handed it across.

Anya was close enough to see projected sales figures of hundreds of thousands of units in the first month, sketches of sportswear and a chart of the demographics for potential consumers.

Kirsten rubbed her eyes with the palm of one hand. ‘I was so stupid to think someone that famous would want to talk business with me.’

She was already blaming herself for what had occurred.

Anya felt for the girl. Physical healing was relatively straightforward. Emotional healing was far more complicated. ‘You’d be perfect pitching a project to anyone, famous or otherwise.’

Mrs Byrne threw a solid piece of ice into the sink, startling her daughter. She moved to the sink and wiped her forehead with a gloved hand.

‘Damn that woman! She sent my girl off to those … those … why they’re not fit to be called men – even dressed my baby up like a two-bit hooker.’

‘Mom. Stop! It wasn’t like that.’

‘That Jordan woman used you.’ The knife followed the ice with a thud. ‘And you’re the one left with nothing.’ She wiped her nose and grabbed her bag. ‘I need to get more ammonia and vinegar. Don’t open the door to anyone while I’m out.’

Anya suspected the mother felt guilty about not being able to protect her child. Instead of helping, though, her comments sent mixed messages to her daughter, and would to a defence team as well.

Linda Gatby leant forward. ‘What a woman wears is her own choice. You have every right to dress the way you want, change your hair, wear makeup and go to parties.’ She locked eyes with Kirsten. ‘Those men had no right to touch you without your consent. End of story.’

Kirsten buried her face in her hands. ‘Part of me knows that, but I can’t help wondering if I did something to give Pete Janson the wrong idea. I mean, he was different before we went upstairs and I liked him. I guess it was flattering having a superstar pay me all that attention.’ She looked up at both women. ‘It was wrong, I know.’

‘Janson and his friends are predators. Those sorts of men charm women, trick them, then rape them.’ Linda spoke firmly and with the authority of someone who knew a lot about rapists
and their behaviours. ‘Besides, he’s married. He knew exactly what he was doing.’

‘That’s what I keep telling myself.’ Kirsten took a few deep breaths. ‘Sorry about Mom. She’s still in shock and she’s having trouble handling the whole thing. In some way she thinks I’m like damaged goods now. That’s why she doesn’t want my boyfriend to know.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘I haven’t told him yet, I don’t know how to.’

Kirsten was trying to support her mother and protect her boyfriend during her own crisis. She was obviously a strong young woman, and would need to be if she were to endure the legal process of a trial.

‘Have either of you been in touch with a counsellor?’ Anya asked.

‘The hospital gave me a number to call.’ Kirsten located her wallet and pulled out a card. ‘I’ll call them when Mom calms down. But now I lost my job, I don’t know how I’ll pay for it.’

Anya’s phone buzzed. Ethan Rye was on the line. She switched it off and let it go to voicemail. ‘You said you
lost
your job?’

Kirsten rubbed her temples. ‘Cheree fired me when I got home from the hospital yesterday. She said they were downsizing and had to cut staff. I was the last to start, so first to go. That’s why I have to go home. This week is my last pay cheque. I’m sorry, I don’t think it’s all sunk in yet.’

Anya wasn’t surprised. The physical trauma alone would have exhausted Kirsten’s young body, let alone the emotional challenges she now faced.

‘There will be some detectives from the special unit I work for coming to see you again, but don’t be disturbed. It’s important we have all the facts before the men are arrested. If any of them makes any attempt to contact you, let me know immediately, no matter what time of day or night.’

Kirsten nodded.

Linda put the file Kirsten had given her into her leather satchel and looked at Anya. As planned, Anya would ask the medical questions alone.

‘I’ll be in the coffee shop across the road,’ Linda said, and she told Kirsten she would ring later to see how she was doing.

Anya had in her bag a body chart and notepad. ‘I know this isn’t going to be easy, but I need to go through some of the things that happened that night, once you were upstairs.’

The young woman steeled herself and stared at her hands, as if garnering strength from them.

‘I thought we were there to see his agent. God, that sounds so stupid now. I went up to the room and he made a call. I thought he was calling his agent. He closed the door, with the pull-across lock blocking it from closing completely. I was practising the spiel in my head when Pete went to the bathroom. Then he came out, but he didn’t have any pants on. I mean nothing, and he had an … I mean, it was obvious his penis was erect.’

‘How did you react?’

‘I just kept saying it was all a mistake. This was just a business proposition. I guess part of me thought it had to be a sick joke.’

Anya could picture the scene. A naïve young woman doing her job, with a man who saw her not as a person but as a sexual toy. Except this man was much larger and stronger, trained to push through any obstacles that got in the way of what he wanted. Kirsten was no match.

‘Only he didn’t listen. When I said about the business proposition, he said he had one of his own. When he was on top of me, I could barely breathe. He was so heavy and too strong. I tried to push him off. You have to understand. There was nothing I could do. It was like a really bad dream where you can’t scream, only it was real.’

Anya offered to get her a glass of water, but Kirsten plainly wanted to continue, and get it over with.

‘I went to one of those self-defence classes in high school. But I didn’t have a chance to gouge his eyes or hurt him. I was so scared and I just couldn’t believe any of it was happening.’

The sound of a siren crescendoing outside made her stop. Kirsten took a few deep breaths as if she were about to dive underwater.

‘I heard someone yelling for help, and realised it was me. Another man, they called him Liam, came in.’

Liam McKenzie. Anya doubted this was the first time he and Janson had acted together to rape.

‘He walked into the room and I ran to him for help. I grabbed his arm and he asked what was going on. Just then, other men came in. Two of them had dark hair and were drinking. They cheered Janson as if he was some kind of hero. It was like I didn’t exist. Then Liam grabbed me by the waist and threw me onto the bed, with my face in the pillow. I tried to scream again, but they were all laughing.’ She paused and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I didn’t think it could be worse, but he raped me from behind and that hurt so much more.’