Jane Doe's Return (23 page)

He took in a deep breath and muttered some curse. “The scar?” He touched her back.

“I didn’t lie to you. But our killer put his cigarette out on my back. He did that to those who
saved
themselves for him. He said it made us uniquely his. My stepmother just added another feature.” She put her coffee down as the muscles in her stomach tightened.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to say.” A gurgle rolled around and her stomach cramped. She tried to swallow, but couldn’t. “I can’t change what happened. It wasn’t my fault. I know that. I’m not ashamed of it, but I’m worried about my job. This job means everything to me.”

“Don’t worry about that.” His tone indicating that, once again, she could trust him.

She resented that trust sometimes.

“Where did he pick you up?” he questioned.

“The Albany train station. He told me he could help me. I knew it was a line, so I got on the train. I didn’t know he followed me.” She watched him jot things down, knowing she was just another witness to him. Nothing more.

“Did he take you from the train?”

“I saw him in the food car. He’d been talking to some other girl—no, a woman. Telling her about how he was a director in New York. I was intrigued, but still didn’t believe him.”

“Did you go with him willingly?”

Her feet hit the floor. “Oh, yeah. Just got in his car and let him have his way with me.”

Travis lifted his brow.

“He cornered me by the doors right before the next stop. I thought he smelled funny. Now I know it was ether. The next thing I remember, I was in some room. It had to be somewhere south of Albany. Maybe near the first stop. I assume it was some nasty old motel. It smelled all musty and gross.”

“So he drugged you,” Travis said as he flipped the page on his legal pad. “Do you remember what he was wearing?”

“I don’t remember his clothes, but I think he wore a dark brown or black wig. I thought maybe he was bald or something and didn’t want anyone to know. Later, right before I jumped from the car, I could tell he had blond hair. He also wore a Yankees baseball cap.”

“Physical description.” He wrote so fast she could barely focus on anything other than his hand movements.

“I don’t remember.”

“Don’t think of yourself as his victim. Think like an agent. Think like you do when we’re working.” He squeezed her shoulder.

She knew Travis was right. She needed to compartmentalize. She needed to approach this like a trained professional. Be detached. Sitting up, taking the cool breeze into her lungs, she felt renewed strength.

She closed her eyes and let the memories come to her. “Grayish blue eyes. Almost smoky. I don’t think he was too big and he wasn’t heavy, but strong. He had a beard and a mustache, but for some reason I think the beard was fake. Every so often I see him with only the mustache. He wasn’t ugly, but I don’t recall him being all that attractive, either.” She opened her eyes. “Then again, I was only fourteen. Attractive was the kid from
Growing Pains
.”

Travis gave her a slight smile, making her feel at ease. “Okay, that could be any number of guys, but it’s a start. Tell me what kind of things he said to you.”

She swallowed, noticing that Travis did the same. This was not easy for either of them. His sister hadn’t survived. “When I woke, he told me if I was still it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“Were you clothed at the time?”

The first tear fell. No matter how hard she tried to step outside herself, what happened was real. Her therapist told her there would be moments she’d feel completely and utterly stripped of her strength, but in order to get to the other side of those emotions, she had to play it out.

She had to tell Travis all of it.

Not only would it free her, maybe it would free him.

“This is hard for me, too. I keep thinking about Marie, and how terrified she must have been. I think about all those other girls. None of them deserved this. But I also think about you.” His fingers warmed her skin as he brushed away her tears. “I’ll admit that Jane Doe was another victim who I wanted to talk to, but Shauna Morgan is real flesh and blood, someone I care about.”

Pushing his hands away, she shivered. “I can’t deal with that right now, okay?”

“All right,” he said, sounding none too pleased. “Did he rape you there?”

She nodded.

Snap
.

“Shit,” Travis spat, as blue ink dripped out of the ballpoint pen that he snapped in half. “Sorry.” He wrapped the pen in paper, turning from her.

“Your sister was found in a motel room. He might not have had the chance to set the stage, but the ones who he believed waited for him, he killed quickly. He didn’t want to cause them any more pain than he had to. If I hadn’t fought back, he might not have beaten me.”

“That’s sick.” Travis stood, tossing the plastic end table over the railing. It bounced and rolled down the hill toward the lake, finally landing on the dock. “Damn it.” He raked his hands through his hair. “I’ve talked to rape victims before. Some say they prayed for death.” His voice shook with agony. She knew the pain was for his sister. Not her. She understood more than she wanted too.

Feeling the need to comfort him, she stood and took him by the shoulders. “I didn’t want to die. I doubt Marie did, either.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He glared at her.

“Take your own advice.” At this point, she didn’t have the energy to hold his hand through this. “You had to know how hard this would be on you, to talk to me like this. It’s as if you are hearing Marie tell you what happened.”

“It’s worse.” Sitting back down, he grabbed the paper and a new pen. “How many times did he rape you?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Once. He told me that because I had waited for him, he would make sure God took care of me. He made me get dressed and that’s when I tried to run. He beat me, blindfolded me, and put me in the car. He said he was going to end my life quickly. I shouldn’t suffer, but I had to die. I didn’t want to just then, so I jumped from the car.”

The inside of her stomach swished and splashed like a pitcher of water falling off a table. “Oh, God.” She moaned, running into the screen door. Gagging in her hand, her feet suddenly came off the floor, dangling in midair. Before she knew what was going on, she was on her knees in front of the toilet.

She rocked back on her heels as the second wave of nausea hit her. There was nothing left in her stomach and a cold sweat broke on her forehead as she coughed until she was able to catch her breath, mortified he hadn’t left.

No. He leaned against the sink, saying nice things to her, keeping her hair from falling in her face and rubbing her back. “You okay?”

“Just freaking great.” She stood and gripped the sink, trying not to succumb to the nausea again. Turning the cold water on, she splashed it in her face and rinsed out her mouth. So much for trying to look halfway decent. “Let’s get on with it.” Without looking at him, she moved past him and grabbed all the other files, taking them out on the porch.

He must have stopped in the kitchen, because he came out with some crackers and soda. “This should help settle your stomach.”

Wanting to stay focused, she said, “I don’t think he was much older than twenty. His voice was distinct. I would recognize it if I heard it, but I doubt I would recognize his face. Every time I conjure it up, it’s different.” She joined Travis in making notes.

Hours flew by as they passed papers back and forth. She filled in all the blanks that she could, and he did the same for her.

“What’s this?” She took a list of names.

“Suspects,” he said dryly.

“Scott…as in…our boss?” She looked at him, stunned.

“He has a Yankees cap and grayish eyes, but I don’t think he’s our guy.” Travis dumped his feet on the railing.

“Holy shit.” She stared at the list. “These are all agents or cops.”

“Going by something Jake suspected.”

That really got her attention. “You think our guy is a cop.” She’d never made that connection, but as she said it, it made perfect sense.

“I don’t want to believe it, but stranger things have happened.”

“I don’t know most of these other guys.” She held the paper in her trembling hands. “We’re screwed.”

“Are you sure about the voice?” He started gathering up all the papers.

She stood and looked over the lake. Was she sure? “I don’t know.” She bit back tears. “At least five of these guys I’ve had conversations with.”

“It’s okay to cry.” His arm came around her.

She stiffened. Crying was out of the question. “Jeff’s eyes are the right color.”

“And Steve?”

“His eyes are cold and unnerving, but I’m not sure.” A few salty drops fell, but she was determined to remain professional. She had to. “I thought I’d know when I heard his voice.”

He took her by the hand and pulled her through the house, grabbing his keys.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re not going to like it.” He started the engine after they climbed into his pickup.

She didn’t like it already. “Do I have to guess?”

“Home.”

“Albany?”

“No.” He gave her a pointed look.

Did he mean to take her home? As in Saratoga? Her father? “Nahuh. No way. I won’t, you can’t make me.” But she knew it was necessary. “Crap. Don’t leave me alone with my father.”

Travis put his hand on her neck. “I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”

She laughed without any humor in the rumble. “I’m not afraid of him, but he should be very afraid of me.”

He pulled the truck into a gas station. Shutting the engine off, he turned, cupping her head and pulling her face close to his. “You’ll have to wait in line behind me.” His lips brushed hers, then he got out and filled the tank.

She’d wanted to believe that encounter had been for her, but she knew, deep down, all his

emotions were wrapped up with Marie. She’d filled in the blanks with what happened to his sister.

Forcing herself to forget his tender touch, Shauna focused on the papers they had created earlier. She didn’t want to think about seeing her father. The last time she saw Don Morgan was the last time he’d hit her. She’d had to go to graduation with a black eye.

The closer they got to Saratoga, the more her body twitched. Setting aside the papers in their files, she turned to Travis. “I don’t think I can do this.”

His hand rested on her shoulder. “We need to find who came and got those journals, and when.”

“My dad’s a drunk and won’t remember squat, except that maybe I owe him money.”

“You’d be surprised what a drunk can remember.” They pulled into the driveway of a rundown old shack.

Touching the butt of her gun, she took a deep breath and let it out in a puff. “I’m a trained professional.” She stiffened her shoulders and took the lead. Travis’s footsteps followed close behind her.

Looking around the overgrown lawn, she held back a sneeze from the white dandelions flapping in the breeze. She could almost smell the whiskey on her father’s breath. Instinctively, she raised her hand to her cheek, the favorite landing spot for his fist.

Travis’s fingers rested on her back and gave her the strength she needed to raise her hand to knock on the door. She prayed he was home. No way could she drive down that road again.

A lump caught in her throat the moment the door rattled. Travis’s hand applied just enough pressure to remind her she was acting as an agent, not a victim.

The bald, disheveled man standing before them was not the man she remembered.

“May I help you?” Don Morgan asked.

She stared at him while he rubbed his unshaven jaw. His wrinkled face looked discolored and there was a glazing over in his left eye. Looking down at him, he seemed smaller than she remembered. “Pop?” she questioned.

“Shauna?” His eyes went wide. “My, God. Is that really you?” He reached out, almost touching her, but pulled back as if he got burned. Then he just stood there and gawked at her.

“Sir, we need to ask you a few questions.” Travis flashed his badge.

Shauna felt the nudge in her spine. Dropping her gaze to her purse, she pulled out her badge.

“A cop? My deadbeat daughter?” Her father stepped aside, waving them in.

“Actually, FBI, Pop.” Shauna looked around at what she used to call home. A layer of dirt and dust lined every inch of the old house. The stench of whiskey filled her nostrils. “Have you seen Craig lately?” She stopped at the doorway to the kitchen and blinked. This man got his kicks out of beating her. She shouldn’t feel sorry for him.

But she did.

Being human really sucked.

“Not in a few weeks. He in trouble?” Her father offered them a shot.

Travis put his hand out, shaking his head. “We’re investigating a case that may involve him,” Travis said, glancing around. “When Shauna moved out, what did you do with everything she left behind?” Travis had both hands on his hips, giving her father a level stare.