Nothing Sacred

The permanent knot in her stomach tightened with new dread as she asked, “What?”

“I need to let the town know—”

Martha didn’t even let him finish before she started shaking her head.

“At least something,” Greg insisted.

“No.” Martha felt Becca’s hand slide over hers. She was distantly comforted by the show of support. And was one hundred percent focused on shutting the sheriff down on this one.

“She’s been through enough, Greg,” Martha said. “You should see her. The kid who used to be so vivacious and accommodating lurks around the outskirts of her life, introverted, quiet, pretending everything’s fine. I’m afraid of what it would do to her if the whole town heard about the rape.”

“Don’t you think part of it’s due to knowing that the guy who did this to her is still out there?” Becca’s words came softly from beside her.

“I’m sure it is,” Martha said. “But it’s also due to an invasion of privacy from which she might never recover.” Martha found herself seeking out the pastor, as though his reaction to what she was saying mattered. “We can’t further invade her. She’s afraid people will stare, which some will, or avoid her, which is also possible. She doesn’t want people to look at her differently. At this point, making this crime public would be as criminal as what the bastard did to her. She trusts us.”

David Marks nodded.

“I also have to worry about the safety of this town,” Greg said. “People need to know that there could very well be a rapist walking in their midst.”

“They might also be able to help shed some light on who he is,” David added, destroying the small bond Martha had just grudgingly made with him.

“No,” she said. She knew she wasn’t thinking straight. That the others had very good points. But she had a child to protect. Nothing else mattered.

“Can we let the town know there’s been a rape, and where, without disclosing any names?” David asked. “You could say where, what day. No one would imagine Ellen in that vicinity.”

Martha didn’t like it. “Ellen hasn’t been herself since the attack. People might put two and two together.”

“She had a fight with her boyfriend on Thursday afternoon before the attack,” David said. “And broke up with him on Friday. Everyone knew how much in love those two were. Even I knew, and I’m new to town. From what I can tell, most people are blaming her unhappiness on the breakup.”

That was true. Martha worked at the same university Ellen attended. A couple of her students were friends of Ellen’s. They’d mentioned the breakup, hoping Martha could shed some understanding on the seemingly unbelievable occurrence.

Once again she was grateful to the minister for his insight and sensitivity.

“We have a plan, then?” Greg asked, looking only at Martha.

“As long as we don’t mention Ellen….”

Greg stood and the others got up immediately. “I’ll put a notice in the paper tomorrow….”

Martha’s stomach cramped and she almost doubled over. Visions of Ellen at home, suffering such silent agony, haunted her. If this in any way made her situation worse…

“It’ll be okay,” David Marks said, following her out of the office.

Martha nodded, marginally comforted by the words. She could only hope they were doing the right thing.

And for a woman who’d lost faith in hope, that wasn’t much to go on.

FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE coming to Shelter Valley, David was thankful for his relatively light workload. He couldn’t get rid of the suspicion riding constantly in the back of his mind. An idea that, while it made no sense, wouldn’t be ignored. He considered discussing his thoughts with the sheriff, but he didn’t really know Greg Richards all that well.

And he had too much to risk for something that might come to nothing at all.

Still, it didn’t hurt to do some checking on his own.

On Wednesday afternoon, after he’d once again spoken to Helen Carr, putting forward another request to see his dying mother, he made a few confidential pay-phone calls to some people he used to know in Phoenix. And then drove to speak with James Nesbitt, the owner of the building where Ellen had been held hostage.

Unfortunately, the man, with his claim that he’d already told the sheriff everything he knew, refused to be forthcoming at all. Finally, at David’s continued but friendly persistence, he closed his door firmly in his visitor’s face.

David turned his Explorer toward the desert stretch outside Shelter Valley, hoping for a peaceful hour or two, in which to think and maybe relax a little. The day hadn’t been all bad, he told himself. There’d been a couple of times that morning in the mayor’s office when Martha Moore had actually seemed to warm up to him. It was the first time he’d really seen her since the night of Ellen’s attack. She always seemed to be otherwise occupied when he stopped by to see her daughter.