A swinging door whooshed behind them and she realized Rachel had left. Now the work could begin.

“I know you don’t want to remember.”

“I don’t.”

“If we can get him on paper, then maybe we can get him out of your brain and nightmares.”

Her eyes widened with surprise. “How’d you know he’s there?”

“Men like him thrive in the shadows. They feed on our fear and they return over and over again if we don’t find a way to lock them behind bars.”

She dropped her face to her hands. “Will he really go away?”

Jenna felt herself moving to this woman’s corner. “We won’t know unless we try.”

A ragged sigh shuddered from her small body. “Okay.”

And so the two of them began the process of questions and answers. If Jenna had been back in Baltimore she’d have had access to facial identification catalogues or even a computer. But she only had her sketchpad and charcoal. Not as easy as she’d have liked it but also not impossible.

At first Belinda sat straight, her hands fisted on the table. But as Jenna began to draw, the woman relaxed and with each swipe of the charcoal she became more drawn into the process.

By the time they’d finished the sketch, it was nearly midnight and both were exhausted. Jenna’s back ached and a dull headache pounded behind her left eye, but she considered both a small price to pay for the image that now radiated from the page.

Jenna turned the sketch around so that Belinda could get a clear view. “Is this the guy?”

She stared at it for long, tense seconds before she finally nodded. “That’s him.”

He was a man in his late thirties with a long, narrow face and sloping, wide-set eyes. Based on her description he was Caucasian with rough skin pockmarked by old acne scars.

“I’ll give this to Rachel and see what she can do with it?”

Her gaze sparked with hope and fear. “Do you think they’ll be able to find him?”

She pulled a rag from her back pocket and wiped the black charcoal from her fingers. “I don’t know, but having a face will certainly help.”

Belinda stared at the face. “I hate that face. I dream about it.”

“Maybe not so much anymore.” Jenna rose. “You did a good job here tonight, Belinda. Try and get some sleep.”

“Thanks.”

Jenna moved to the door and pushed it open. Rachel sat at her desk, reading a brief. There was no sign of Deke or Rick.

“We’re finished.”

Rachel rose and moved toward the kitchen door. She followed Jenna back to the counter where Belinda sat. “How’d it go?”

“Well.” Jenna tore the picture from her sketchpad and handed it to Rachel. “You have a face now.”

Rachel studied the picture. “This image just might get us in the game for a sound defense.”

Belinda nodded, too tired to smile. “I hope so.”

“You need to sleep,” Rachel said. “I’ll run you home.”

Belinda nodded and as she started to follow stopped and turned to Jenna. “Are you going to come back?”

“Why would I?”

“So I can tell you about the other man.”

“What other man?” Rachel asked.

“The one that stood in the shadows and watched while the other man raped me.”

Rachel’s narrowing eyes suggested this was all new territory to her. “You never told me about the second man.”

Frowning, Belinda shook her head. “I only just remembered him when I was talking to Jenna.”

“Did you see him?” Jenna asked. Drawings could trigger memories.

“No. Not really. I just heard his voice. He was telling that guy what to do to me.”

“He was directing the rape?” Rachel asked.

“Yes. I think so.”

“But you never saw him?” Jenna asked.

Belinda seemed to consider the question. “Once very briefly. I got away from the first man and as I ran through the house, the other man was at the front door. He was locking the door and closing the drapes.” She pressed fingertips to her temples as if the memories pounded her brain. “When the rapist grabbed me and took me back to the bedroom, the second man turned and I saw him for a second or two.”

“I could work with her,” Jenna offered.

“That would be great.” Rachel glanced at the clock on the wall. “But it’s late. And Belinda, you’re exhausted. We’ll talk in the morning about this other man.”

Belinda looked relieved and disappointed. “Okay. But Jenna will come back?”

“Yes. I’ll come back,” Jenna said, offering the young girl a smile. “You did a good job.”

As Belinda gathered her purse, Rachel studied the sketch. “This is very good, Jenna.”

“Thanks. Hope it helps. Now if you don’t mind I’m heading home. I’m exhausted.”

“Sure. You remember where you’re parked?”

“I can manage.”

Outside, Jenna glanced up at the clear night sky, savoring the twinkle of so many stars. Clear nights in the summer were rare. Humidity and heat usually wiped a thick haze over the sky, blurring and hiding the stars. But not tonight. Tonight, even with the lights from the city, the stars shone brightly.

Energy buzzed in her system. She rolled her head from side to side. The Lost Girl had a face. A nameless attacker had a face. She’d made a difference, as she had in Baltimore. And it felt good.

“So how’d it go?”

Startled, she turned to see Rick push off a wall and move toward her with a steady, deliberate gait. He’d loosened his tie. A slight breeze caught the folds of his jacket brushing them back enough to offer a glimpse of his revolver. He radiated an energy that drew her. Damn. No. She would not even let her mind go in that direction. Hormones coupled with a crash of emotions had driven her into Mike’s arms weeks ago and that had been a mistake. She was not going to repeat the error.

She cleared her throat. “It went well. We’ve the face of the first attacker.”

A dark brow arched. “First?”

She kept walking, fearing if she stopped she might be tempted to touch him. She really just needed to get some distance and clear her head. Jenna and Rick. Out of the blue, she pictured their names carved on a tree and nearly laughed at the image. “At the very end of the session she said there was a man directing the attack.”

Rick’s gaze sharpened. “She get a good look at him?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to meet again. Maybe in a day or two when she’s rested. She’s so tired now and it’ll take her time to process what she remembered tonight.”

He shook his head. “So Rachel really has a case and it’s not a bogus defense attorney move?”

“Maybe. Belinda strikes me as genuine. I’ve been fooled before, but I don’t think so this time.”

They moved down the sidewalk and cut down between the buildings, coming out into the lit parking lot where she’d parked her Jeep. He followed her all the way to her car and waited as she unlocked it and put her sketchpad and purse on the front seat.

“Thanks for the escort, but I could’ve managed,” she said.

“No extra trouble.”

She lingered, the hormones tugging at her. “I guess you can get back to the paying work now?” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’ve a portrait I have to finish by Friday. The subject is coming to see the final product. She’s a very high-strung bride who wants to display the portrait at her reception.”

“Killers to brides. That’s a jump.”

His deadpan tone made her laugh. “Both dangerous in their own ways.”

For an instant, the hard lines of his face softened into a very appealing face. Those hormones hopped and jumped. Touch him. Just for tonight. This isn’t for keeps. Like buzzing flies, she swatted away the desire. “Thanks again for all your help, Jenna.”

“Glad I could be of service.” She offered her hand. “Keep me posted on the ca

se. I’d really like to know what happens.”

He wrapped a calloused hand around hers, squeezing and then holding her hand an extra beat. “Will do.”

Tags: Mary Burton Morgans of Nashville Suspense
Source: readsnovelonline.net