False Prophet (12 page)

“Certainly.”

“I’d also like you to look through some mug shots I have in my briefcase. Maybe these animals have done something like this before and you can pick them out.”

“As you wish.”

He handed her the photos of the local sex offenders and used the hospital phone to place a call to the station. As he waited for the lines to connect, he noticed Lilah flipping through the pictures with little interest. He finally made contact with the police artist, then hung up.

“Someone will be here in about twenty minutes,” Decker said. “None of these men look like—”

“No, none.”

“You’re sure—”

“Very.” Lilah sank back into her pillow. “My God, I’m tired.”

“I’m sure you must be,” Decker said. “What were you doing walking around?”

“Just trying to feel… human again.” She brushed a tear away from her eye. “I’ll heal outside. I hurt, but I know I’ll heal. It’s the inside…” She regarded him, took his hand. “May I hold your hand?”

“Of course,” Decker answered.

He knew that women reacted very differently to sexual assault. Some couldn’t bear the sight of a man; others wanted their husbands or boyfriends to make love to them immediately after the ordeal. Some crawled into shells and never came out; others acted as if nothing of significance had happened. If the primary detective on the case was male, rape survivors often developed a kind of transference with him, either good or bad depending on the rapport. Some women had been so grateful for Decker’s sympathetic ear, they had named their babies after him. But there was something odd about Lilah.

“Are you up to answering a few more questions?” Decker asked.

Lilah brought his hand to her cheek and nodded.

“Okay. Then let me ask you this. When did you manage to make out your attackers so clearly?”

“I saw them as soon as they touched me.” Her lower lip began to tremble. “I was so… can you hold me, Peter? Just for a brief moment.”

She came to him, then abruptly pulled back and brought her hand to her mouth.

“No, forget I said that. I can see by your ring that you’re married. It’s just that I’m feeling so vulnerable right now. I need someone to lean on. May I take your hand again?”

She took it without waiting for a response, began to play with his wedding band. Though he had comforted many survivors, none were as overtly sexual — as
deadly
sexual — as this one. He kept his face impassive and said, “Do you have a boyfriend you want me to call?”

Lilah’s eyes suddenly grew cold. “No.”

“How about your bro—”

“Give me a
break
!” She jerked her hand away.

“Would
you
feel more comfortable if you were interviewed by a woman?”

“Would
you
feel more comfortable if I was interviewed by a woman?”

“Lilah, I want to nab the monsters who did this to you. Take them off the street so they can’t do it to some other woman. But to do that, I need your help. I really need your help.”

Again, her eyes moistened. “It’s just so hard.”

“I’m sorry. I really am sorry.”

She grabbed his wrist before he could pull away and brought his hand to her cheek. “I connect with you.”

Ignoring the impulse to tug his hand away, he said, “I’m glad you connect with me. Maybe you can connect me to your attackers.”

Lilah broke into laughter and tears at the same time. Slowly, she kissed his fingers one at a time.

Despite himself, he felt a pull down below and decided to break physical contact. “Can you talk about what happened?”

She settled back. “Yes, I can. I feel strong now.”

“You say you didn’t hear them come in?”

“No.”

“You were asleep.”

“Yes.”

“Do you happen to know what time you awoke?”

“No.”

“You woke when you felt them on top of you.”

“Actually, I sensed them. Before I felt them, before I opened my eyes. But I couldn’t wake myself up fast enough. I couldn’t react… then… it was too late. They were on top of me… slapping me… hitting me… with… their fists… beating…”

Decker realized she was gasping and told her to wait a moment. When Lilah regained a steady tempo of respiration, she said, “Why didn’t they just break open the safe and leave? Why did they have to destroy my belongings? Why did they have to
hit
me? Why did they
hurt
me? Why did they
rape
me?”

“Because these guys are monsters and they enjoy hurting women.”

“But
why
! Oh, hell, I know there aren’t any simple answers. You’re not like that, Peter, I can tell. I feel so safe. So… protected when I’m with you.”

“That’s what the police are for.”

She locked eyes with him, not pleased with his response. He knew it, but continued anyway.

“I’m going to have to ask you some sensitive questions. Do you think you’re up to answering them?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you start to feel panicky, stop until you’re calmer. I don’t care how long it takes. I want to make this as comfortable as possible for you. All right?”

She nodded.

“Did both men rape you?”

“Just… I… only one.”

“You’re sure?”

“Just one. I’m positive.”

“Did he penetrate you vaginally?”

Her face whitened but she answered yes.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Did he penetrate you anally?”

She shook her head.

“Did he attempt to penetrate you anally?”

“No.”

“You’re doing great, Lilah. Just a few more questions. Did he ejaculate inside of you?”

“I…” She buried her face in her hands. “I don’t remember really. While it was happening, I blanked it out.”

“That’s okay. That’s normal, Lilah. Did either of your attackers force you to copulate orally with them?”

“No.”

“All right. Did both attackers hit you?”

“I think so… I was hit first… held down…”

“Take your time.”

“First… hit. Then they… one of them… went to the safe while the other… raped.”

“Okay. One of them opened the safe while the other raped you.”

“Yes.”

“Then what happened? Do you remember?”

“He… someone started breaking things… I think the first one was still raping me… while the other broke things. It seemed to last forever.”

“Did either one of them talk to you?”

“No.”

“Not even at the beginning?”

“I… I’m sorry. Everything is such a blur. One of them might have said, ‘I have a gun.’ But I really don’t remember.”

“Do you know which one raped you?”

“I could describe his face, yes.”

“Did you see a gun, Lilah?”

“He… at… I think I felt the gun at my head. I felt on my temple… you know. He must have been holding it. I was… it hurt. I thought I was… going to die.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Do you want to take a break?” Decker asked.

“I’m… all right.”

“It’s no problem to stop.”

“No… not yet.”

“Okay. You think you were beaten before you were raped.”

“Yes.”

“You’re doing a
great
job, Lilah. Holding up really well. Which one beat you?”

“Both… I think.”

“Okay, they’re hitting you. Then they stopped.”

“Yes…” Her eyes focused on her lap. “Finally.”

“Are you all right?”

She whispered, “It’s… go on. I’m all right.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded.

“Okay. But don’t hesitate to stop if you need to. What happened after they stopped beating you?”

“One man raped me… the other…” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “He must have gone to the safe.”

“One man raped you while the other went to the safe.”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what happened after the man came out of the safe?”

“I think… maybe they broke more things…” She looked at him with urgency. “He found what he
wanted
in the safe. I don’t know why he destroyed the room.”

“Could he have been looking for something else?”

“Impossible.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes.”

“He found what he wanted in the safe.”

“Yes.”

“What did he want, Lilah?”

“I wish all your questions were that easy to answer. It’s obvious that they were after my father’s memoirs.”

There was a moment of silence. Decker said, “They attacked you and trashed your bedroom for your father’s memoirs?”

Lilah bristled. “You don’t know who my father was?”

“He was a director—”

“Not just
any
director! He was
the
director. Hermann Brecht! As in the Brecht School of Performing Arts at Heidelberg. As in the Brecht Chair at Bonn University! He was not
just
a genius. He was
the
genius. His unsurpassed brilliance in film direction has and will be studied for years. The premier director of this century — fifteen masterpieces and all before he reached his untimely demise at twenty-eight!”

“Your father died at twenty-eight?”

“Yes.” Lilah’s eyes became shiny pools. “I was just a little girl so I don’t remember him too clearly. That’s why the memoirs are so important to me. They’re
my
history!”

“Lilah, I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but why would they be important to anyone else?”

Her face turned stony. “My father was a visionary of unsurpassed magnitude. About a year ago, dear
Freddy
let it slip out that Father had written his recollections and had willed them to me. Up until that time only he and I knew about them. Once Freddy let the cat out of the bag, I was suddenly deluged with calls and letters from universities asking me if I’d care to donate them. Donate! Can you imagine such gall!

“When it became clear I wouldn’t donate them, they tried to buy them away. Three thousand, thirty thousand, three hundred thousand. I wouldn’t have let them go for three million. Not for
thirty
million. But apparently someone else wanted them and was willing to do whatever was necessary to obtain them.”

“What’s in your father’s papers that makes them so coveted?”

She regarded him with disgust, then softened her look. “My father never granted interviews. The memoirs are the only living record of
him
lecturing about his films — his
art
— in his
own
words. And now, I may
never
know…” She exploded into tears.

Decker felt a headache coming on. She wasn’t making a lot of sense. Could it be a subtle sign of brain injury due to the beating? He’d ask Dr. Kessler. After she stopped crying, he said, “Why do you say you may never know? You haven’t read your father’s memoirs?”

“Oh, dear, why is life so complicated?”

He waited for her to continue.

“The papers were
willed
to me on the
condition
that they not be opened until the twenty-fifth anniversary of his death. That date falls two months from now. Of course I
had
to obey his wishes. Others have been after me to break my promise as soon as they found out the papers existed. But I would rather die than ignore my father’s last request in his suicide note.”

Suicide. Decker let that sink in. “The papers were with him when he committed suicide?”

“No, all of Father’s papers were left with an old, trusted friend. I was mailed the memoirs when I reached eighteen. They were delivered into my hands, completely sealed, the wrapping untampered with. Father’s wishes were recorded by the friend on a separate cover letter.”

“So your father’s friend knew the memoirs existed.”

“Oskar died six years ago. Before Freddy opened his mouth. Poor Oskar had nothing to do with the theft of the papers if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Decker tapped his pencil on his pad. “Was the cover letter written in English or do you read German?”

Lilah’s smile held strained patience. “Both the letter and the memoirs were written in
English
. They were dedicated to
me
, Peter. Father obviously wanted me to
understand
them. Father was fluent in five languages.”

“Why you and not your brother, Miss Brecht?”

“Poor Freddy…” Lilah sighed. “Always second-class citizen. He felt so neglected.” Her face soured. “So did Mother. When she found out about the memoirs, she was absolutely
shocked, livid
! The witch actually insisted that I open them and disregard my father’s wishes. She probably wanted to find out what was written about her. As if Father would waste his time recording their silly squabbles!”

Lilah seemed suddenly impatient.

“You never let me finish describing my attackers. Don’t you want
useful
information?”

“I thought we’d wait for the police artist.”

“Is your artist any
good
?”

“The best.” Decker looked up from his pad. “Lilah, how long a look did you get of each man?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you see each of them for thirty seconds? A minute?”

“I saw them as long as I wanted.”

“What do you mean? You were blindfolded.”

“As soon as they touched me, I was able to image their faces in my mind. That’s why I’m able to recall such detail. Brain imaging gives much more resolution than does the optic nerve.”

Decker hesitated a moment. “Lilah, did you see these men with your
eyes
?”

“I just told you, Peter, I
imaged
them!”

Decker paused, wondering more seriously about brain injury. “Lilah, the courts permit only
eye
witness testimony to be entered as evidence.”

“Peter, I’m not about to go into court and say I imaged these men. I realize no one would believe me. But who cares about what the court allows? Once I give
you
my imaged picture, you can find these animals and get some other kind of evidence on them.”

“Let me get this straight. You never actually
saw
your attackers?”

“I saw them for a moment with my eyes. But they were wearing ski masks. And then of course, they blindfolded me. As if that could stop
me
from imaging them. But then again, how could they have known I had that kind of gift?”