“Did he speak?”
“It was garbled, almost like he was talking to himself.”
“Was his voice deep or high pitched?” Macy asked.
“It was barely a whisper. He sounded hoarse. Young. I don’t think he was much older than I was at the time.”
Macy noted Bennett’s keen attention, but she seemed willing to let Macy run this interview. “Did he say anything else?”
“No. But he paused at my dresser and took one earring from a set that had been my favorite. I wore those earrings all the time.”
“Do you still have the remaining one?” Macy asked.
“No. But it was a gold knot with a pearl in the center.”
“And then?” Macy asked.
“He left. I didn’t hear him leave the house, and for a long time I thought he was still there.”
“Was he?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “He came back in the room, and it was like he couldn’t hold himself back. He crossed the room and began softly touching my neck. In a split second his caress turned to a chokehold more vicious than before. My vision blurred and I passed out.”
Rebecca drew in several deep breaths, as if reminding herself that she was not in that room with him and able to breathe.
“What happened next?”
Rebecca balled up the tissue in her clenched fist. “When I came to, he was sitting there staring at me. I was terrified the moment I realized where I was. I could tell under the mask he was really enjoying this.”
“What happened then?”
“He strangled me again.”
“How many times did he do this?”
“Five, maybe six times. I lost count, but the last was the worst. I felt like I was floating, and the world seemed to be slipping away.”
In the ambulance, after the hit-and-run, Macy had coded. No bright lights or the voice of God to guide her, but she did hear her pop’s voice. He told her to stay right the hell where she was.
“My neck was so sore that it hurt to even touch it myself,” Rebecca continued. “I remember looking up that last time into his eyes and knowing I wasn’t going to come back. I didn’t want to die, but I couldn’t stay in that room and keep being tortured like that. So I gave in to it. I stopped fighting, stopped trying to breathe, and just let go.”
“And?”
“I passed out. When I woke, he was rubbing his hands as if they were tired. He finally got up, but instead of coming back for me, he left. I didn’t move for the rest of the night. I was so afraid he would be there to hurt me again. Finally, my mother came home and checked on me.”
“Where was she?”
“At her boyfriend’s house. She told me not to shower and then took me directly to the hospital.”
“Was there any sign of him when your mother arrived?” Macy asked.
“No. She didn’t see anyone.” Rebecca hesitated as her eyes now glistened. She tipped her head back and again touched the edge of her turtleneck.
“I know this is hard,” Bennett said. “But you’re doing a good job.”
“I don’t want to remember,” Rebecca said. “I’ve always made it a habit to leave the past buried.”
“But the past has a way of sneaking up on us,” Macy said.
“True.” Rebecca drew in a breath. “I voted for Nevada because I needed this guy caught more than I wanted to forget.”
“Has this guy ever contacted you since the attack?”
“I did get a weird call last year,” Rebecca said.
“From whom?”
“I don’t know. I picked up the phone and said hello, and there was silence on the other end. And then some man whispered, ‘I will always remember you.’ He hung up and never called again.”
“You think it was him?” Macy asked.
“I’m certain of it. I told Sheriff Greene. He wrote it all down, like it mattered, but I don’t think he did anything.”
The note hadn’t been in Rebecca Kennedy’s file. Macy was silent while Bennett pulled a couple of tissues from the box on the table and handed them to Rebecca, and the woman dabbed the corners of her eyes.
Rebecca inhaled. “You know, I don’t swim anymore because I hate the idea of holding my breath. That is such a stupid little thing, but it irritates me. I used to love to swim.”
Trauma of this kind left lasting marks on the victims. “Would you be willing to meet with a forensic artist?”
Rebecca blinked. “But I didn’t see his face.”
“You never know what you’ll remember. Her name is Zoe Spencer. Very talented and effective at what she does. Give her the chance to help you.”
“Do those sketches really work?” Rebecca asked. “I mean, I’ve seen them on television, but it seems like such a long shot.”
“They do work, and some studies show they’ve been more effective than collecting fingerprints. If you’re willing, I’ll set this up for tomorrow. Agent Spencer will be talking to another woman in town about the same thing.”
“Yeah, sure, I guess. If you think it’ll help.”
Macy sensed the woman’s reticence and attributed it to fear. “If you heard his voice again, would you recognize it?” Macy asked.
“I don’t know.” Rebecca glanced toward the window. “He’s still out there, isn’t he?”
“I think so,” Macy said.
“He could come after me again. I mean, he called me that time. Why would he do that?”
“To scare you and to show you he still has control over your life. It isn’t about the sex; it’s about control and domination.”
“Well, he’s done a damn good job.”
“Time to turn the tables, Ms. Kennedy.”
“Okay.”
“Where are you living these days?”
“In town. I live in the third-floor attic room of an apartment building. My room has no windows. Crazy, right?”
“Not at all,” Macy said.
“I haven’t done anything.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“You’ve survived.” Macy paused while Rebecca collected herself. “Do you live alone?”
“Oddly, I live with my mother. I’ve come full circle. Can you imagine being our age and living with your mother?”
Macy had loved her mother and mourned her death deeply, but they had not been the best of roommates. She had always assumed their issues had grown out of their personalities. Nonstop-action Macy versus television-game-shows Mom. Computers versus magazines. A thirst for adventure versus a fear of the unknown. She realized now that what had stood between them hadn’t been temperament, but the secrets surrounding her birth mother.
“No.” She softened the abrupt answer with a smile. “One last question. Ms. Kennedy, did you know Cindy Shaw?”
Her eyes blinked. Twice. “Yeah, I knew her. Everyone k
new everyone back then. It was small-town living, not like it is here today.”
“Do you have any idea what might have happened to Cindy Shaw?” Macy asked.
“I was pretty messed up that fall, and she was the least of my worries. Why are you asking about her?” Rebecca asked.
Macy was beginning to wonder herself. “Because no one knows what happened to her.”
Rebecca wiped away a tear. “Cindy had a pretty shitty life, and she wasn’t getting along with her brother. It was probably just too much for her.”
“She ever contact anyone after she left?” Macy asked.
“I never heard her name again.”
Macy wrote the initials CS on her notepad and circled it a few times before she asked, “Were you dating anyone around the time of your attack?”
“Paul Decker and I went out a few times in the weeks before it happened, but I kind of stopped calling him back.”
“You broke up with him?”
“Yeah, I suppose I did.”
“Do you think he was your attacker?”
“Paul? No. He didn’t attack me,” Rebecca said.
“Why do you say that? You didn’t see the guy’s face.”
“I would know if it were Paul. I mean, we were together if you know what I mean.”
“Sex?” Macy asked.
Rebecca blushed and glanced toward Bennett. “Yeah. Sex.”
“And he wasn’t angry with you for breaking it off?” Macy prompted.
“It was really a mutual thing,” Rebecca said.
What might have been mutual in her mind might not have been in his. “Did he also date Cindy?” Macy countered.
“Paul dated around and probably still does. Any smart girl knows he’s never going to be in it for the long haul. But sometimes fun and sex are all a girl needs.”
Fun and sex. Both concepts were far from Macy’s life right now. “Ms. Kennedy, thank you for your time.”
“Look, I know I said I don’t like talking about this, but if talking will help find Tobi’s killer, I’ll talk to your friend.”
“Agent Spencer will be in town tomorrow. Will you see her then?”
Her body tensed, but she nodded. “Absolutely.”