Stolen(89)

Lisa brushed her hair back and lifted her eyes to meet Caity’s. “I’m ready.”

“Just start at the beginning, and we’ll interrupt with questions, if that’s okay.”

But Lisa didn’t seem to know where to begin. So Spense decided to get her started. He could back off and let Caity take over anytime, if needed. “You told the police you’d been raped by Grady Webber.”

She rested one hand on top of the other. “Yes. But I made a mistake. Grady never hurt me. That’s why I dropped the charges.”

“You don’t seem like the kind of person to make something up out of spite,” Spense said, knowing it was common for victims to recant their stories for a multitude of reasons. “So maybe go back to the beginning and tell us what actually happened that night. We can take a break anytime you want.”

“I won’t want a break. I just want to help. And it’s better to get it over with.”

“I’m sure it’s not easy for you to talk about this, Lisa,” Caity said.

“It’s not.” She straightened her back. “I—I went to a frat party with my boyfriend. Only he wasn’t my boyfriend at the time.”

“That was your first date with Grady.”

“It was our first date, but Grady wasn’t my escort, his best friend was. But Grady was there. It was a double date. Nothing bad is supposed to happen on double dates, right?” One corner of her mouth lifted wryly. “Anyway, there was a lot of drinking at this party and some drugs. I had too much alcohol, and I passed out. Later that night, I woke up in the basement of the house where the party was taking place. My panties were missing, and I was bleeding. I—I was a virgin.” Her voice went quiet. “I knew I’d had sex, only I didn’t know with whom. The next day Grady called me. He was very solicitous, kept asking how I was feeling, and if I was okay. I just assumed that since Grady knew something was wrong, it had to have been him. How else would he have known? And the boy I went with was my dream date, I didn’t believe he would hurt me in a million years.”

“Seems logical,” Spense said.

“So I went to the police. They took me to the hospital, and the doctors did an exam and collected some swabs and a blood test, they checked my body for hairs and fibers and used some kind of special light on my skin.”

“Did they call what they did a rape kit?”

“Yes. After the cops interviewed Grady, they came back and told me he’d denied everything, but it was my responsibility to press charges against him, so I did. I also wrote an article for the school newspaper warning other women to watch their drinks at parties.”

“I’m confused,” Caity said. “I thought you said you drank too much and that’s why you passed out.”

“I did drink too much, but the tests showed I had other stuff in my system—Quaaludes.”

“And you dropped the charges because . . .”

“The rape kit showed the presence of semen. But it wasn’t Grady’s. They ruled him out because his blood type didn’t match. Grady Webber did not rape me.”

“But, someone did,” Caity said.

“Yes.” She pulled her shoulders up. “Someone did.”

“I could use some water.” Spense offered, because whether she said so or not, he could see Lisa needed a break. She had tears in her eyes, and she was wringing her hands raw. “I can find my way to the kitchen. Anyone else want something?”

“Might as well bring water for everyone,” Caity said.

Lisa didn’t object.

Spense took the opportunity to wander the house a little in his search for the kitchen. He ventured into a room with more comfortable décor, a piano, and what he presumed to be family pictures atop a mantle. He spied photos of an older couple, and some that looked to be Lisa as a child. He picked one of them up, and even before his brain could process the information, his chin snapped back. He’d seen this exact photograph, of a dark-haired blue-eyed little girl eating a wad of pink cotton candy before . . .

In the war room.

He went for his cube. As his fingers worked furiously to sort the puzzle, the room disappeared around him. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the image of the little girl. He imagined the sweet smell of spun sugar, the sticky feel of it beneath his fingertips. The girl smiled at him and asked: Do you see, now? It’s so simple.

The puzzle solved, he put his cube back in his pocket. He did see, and the implications made his heart sting like it’d been hit with a Taser. He opened his eyes, and looked around the room, concentrating on the solidness of the work they had yet to do.