different. But the same type of bruising and craniofacial trauma.”
A black female. Jon’s jaw clenched. The demographic pattern of the women who had been attacked was widely varied, almost unheard of in a serial rapist. It was one of the reasons Corpus Christi PD had resisted asking for any federal help. Since serial rapists usually had a set type of woman they attacked, the department hadn’t thought the perpetrator was just one person.
Nurse Carreker stopped halfway down the hall. “Agent Hatton, y’all try to remember that this isn’t a case to that woman. Her whole world has just been destroyed.”
Y’all? Just because Jon didn’t use the word didn’t mean he didn’t know what it meant. How many people were here besides him? “Okay, thank you.”
The nurse patted him on the arm and left. Jon turned back toward the victim’s room. At least half a dozen of Corpus Christi’s finest were standing around outside the victim’s door. They alternated between glaring at and completely ignoring him as he approached.
Damn, this was going to be a long afternoon.
Jon noticed that Zane Wales, the detective he’d been working most closely with—closely being a very relative term—was busy cross-referencing something on his smartphone with a file in his hands. The younger man made it a point not to make eye contact. Wales should’ve been the one who had called or texted Jon, not the paramedic.
Jon tamped down his frustration. This wasn’t the time or place to get into it with Wales again. Especially because he knew the captain at the local police department all but applauded Wales’s attitude. He encouraged any and all negative attitudes toward Jon.
“Hatton,” Wales said neutrally in greeting. The man actually wore a cowboy hat all the time. Since they were in Texas that shouldn’t surprise Jon, but it was still a little unsettling.
“Wales.” Jon raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything further.
“Doctor’s with the victim, so no one can go in yet.” Wales put himself between the door and Jon as if Jon were going to barge his way in. Jon barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes.
He looked over at the uniformed officers milling around, half a dozen of them, all male. They all wanted to be here, be somewhere nearby so they could help if needed. While Jon appreciated the gesture, they had to leave.
He turned back to Wales. “A little crowded out here, don’t you think, for a woman who’s just been brutally attacked?”
Wales looked a little surprised that Jon had said something reasonable. Probably had expected him to pick a fight about not being notified.
“Actually, I agree,” Wales said. “The last thing that woman is going to want or need is a bunch of people—men especially, probably—out here hanging around.”
The detective’s statement reassured Jon on multiple levels. First, he had already been aware of the problem before Jon even pointed it out and would’ve handled it himself soon, hopefully. Second, Wales might not like him or the fact that he had been assigned to the case, but at least he wasn’t going to do something potentially case-damaging such as keep a bunch of unnecessary people there just to spite Jon. The victim was Wales’s priority.
So cowboy hat notwithstanding—the jury was definitely still out on that—the young detective had just proved himself to be at least competent and focused.
Jon backed out of the way as Wales went to talk to the uniformed officers and dismiss them. He could hear him reassure the men that they personally would be the first ones called if anything could be done for the victim or if any further help was needed. He was glad to see Wales wasn’t a jerk in general.
Just with him, evidently.
After the uniforms left, Wales made his way over to Jon. Both knew it could be some time before they were able to talk to the victim, depending on the extent of the physical and emotional trauma. But sooner was definitely better, while everything was, unfortunately, still fresh in the victim’s mind.
They’d have to wait until the doctor came out to give them more information.
“Do we know anything about the victim?” Jon gave it about a fifty-fifty chance that the detective would be forthcoming with information.
Wales hesitated but then responded.
“Vic’s name is Jasmine Houze. She’s twenty-seven, not married, lives on Mustang Island, which is out near the beach. Works for Flint Hill Resources, an oil company.”
Corpus Christi, in Jon’s opinion, was a city with an identity crisis: part touristy beach town, part oil/shipping industry. Both businesses seemed to vie for what the city would be known for. There were lovely beaches, but if you wandered too far from them you were right in the middle of oil industry with their buildings and warehouses and machinery. So you had all types of people in the city’s makeup.
“Nurse said there was similar craniofacial trauma?” Jon asked.
“I haven’t seen her yet or any medical records to confirm,” Zane Wales responded. “But, yeah, I understand that’s the case.”
The extent of the woman’s wounds would determine a lot, such as how soon they could question her and to what degree she would be able to coherently remember facts.
It was a full hour later before the doctor, a female, and two female nurses came out. The doctor closed the door behind her in a way that suggested no one would be entering soon.
“Gentlemen,” the doctor said in greeting.
“How is she, Dr. Rosemont?” Wales asked. “Is it possible for us to speak with her?”
Jon stayed a half step back. It was better for local detectives to take the lead in these types of cases, he knew from experience. He would only jump in if necessary.
Although the nurses left to complete their other duties, the doctor positioned herself even more solidly in front of the door.
“As I’m sure you can imagine, Ms. Houze is in a delicate state right now, both physically and emotionally.” The doctor crossed her arms over her chest.
Jon was glad to see Wales nodding, taking seriously what the doctor was saying. It was important to talk to Ms. Houze, but it was also important to remember that this was the worst day of her entire life.
“We understand,” Wales said. “And we want to be sensitive to the situation. But talking to her soon is important, if medically possible.”
“Ms. Houze has significant bruising to her face and jaw. The rapist struck her a half-dozen times in rapid succession to stun her. She’ll have no permanent damage from those blows, but both her eyes are currently swollen shut.”
That was undoubtedly what the attacker had intended, so the victim wouldn’t be able to identify him. Jon grimaced. The same thing had happened in the other cases. As a matter of fact, the facial abuse was what had helped alert them to the fact that this was the work of a single man.
“Do
