RCC03 - Beneath a Weeping Sky Read Free Page B

jerked her head powerfully. “I said, do you understand?”
    Patricia nodded, whimpering beneath his hand.
    “Good.”
    The hand came away from her mouth and Patricia sucked in a grateful breath. He tugged at her waistband, sliding her sweats and panties down over her knees.
    Should I resist?
    She gulped more air.
    Will he kill me?
    He pulled her clothing over her running shoes and tossed them aside. She heard them land on a bush, a moment's rustle, then still.
    There was a long pause. She heard paper tearing.
    Should I beg? Or just be quiet and let him do it?
    How could this be happening to me?
    She gasped in pain as he thrust inside her forcefully.
    “Oh, my sweet little bitch,” he moaned in her ear, thrusting slowly.
    Patricia began to cry softly.
    “Unnnnh, Unnnnh,” he moaned, pulling the towel more tightly across her face.
    Patricia tried to stop crying, but instead she broke into a sob.
    He stopped.
    She thought for a moment that it had been her crying that made him stop, that it touched him or even enraged him. She stopped crying, quivering as she waited. He lay across her with the dead weight of a spent man. That was when she realized he was done.
    After a few moments, he pulled out of her and rolled her onto her stomach. Panic surged through her again. When he pulled the towel from her head, she sighed in relief.
    “Don't look up,” he told her gruffly.
    She wouldn't. She never wanted to see his face. If she did she would be dreaming of it every night for the rest of her life.
    “Don’t tell anyone,” he growled at her. “Or I will find you again and I will lay the whammo on you.”
    “I won’t,” she whimpered.
    He gave her a shove in the back of the head to reinforce his warning. She took it with a small cry. Then she lay still, breathing in the humid, earthy smell of the damp soil and pine needles.
    What is Roger going to say?
    When she was sure he was gone, she fumbled with her clothing, lifting them from the damp earth. Numbly, she pulled her panties and sweats over her running shoes. Then she rose on wobbly legs and stumbled home to call the police.
     
    1314 hours
     
    “Adam-254?” Janice Koslowski’s dispatch voice was pleasantly female.
    Officer Anthony Giovanni reached for the mike. “Go ahead. I’m at Wellesley and Division.”
    “Deaconess Hospital for a rape report. Contact Charge Nurse for victim info. Deaconess for a rape report.”
    Gio keyed the mike. “Copy.” Then he muttered, “Thanks a lot, Janice.”
    A rape report. That meant a long interview, a long report and then he had to put the rape kit on property. The rape kit was a real pain in the ass, too, requiring some swabs to be placed in the drying room, some blood vials in the refrigerator and some property in the property bins. Gio looked at his watch. It was 1314 hours. This would definitely take him into overtime.
    He drove past Franklin Park, wondering for a moment why a south side unit hadn’t been dispatched. Deaconess Hospital was clear on the other side of downtown. The answer came to him almost immediately, though. The rape must have happened on the north side, so a north side unit got sent.
    As he dropped down the Division Hill and headed downtown, he did a little bit of quick figuring. Even with the rape kit, he should be done with the call before it got to be too late. Besides, the girl he was seeing that afternoon didn’t get off until three or so. That’d leave him plenty of time to get home, shower and change, rape report or not. And if he didn’t, he figured the girl would wait.
    The girl , he thought. Melanie. Or Mallory. Whatever it was. She’d wait.
    Six minutes later, he pulled into Deaconess, parking in a slot marked for emergency vehicles only. Before exiting the patrol car, he gathered up his face sheet for the report and a steno pad from his bag. Rape reports needed to be detailed and details were easier to write in a steno pad than the small pocket notepad all officers carried in their