Jeffrey looked back at Tommi. She was trying to light another cigarette, acting as if nothing was happening around her.

“Get out of here, asshole.” Humphrey kept coming toward them.

Jeffrey longed for him to swing the wrench. This man had clearly terrorized his family. His wife was afraid of him. His daughter was already broken.

“Jeff.” Sara’s hand tightened around his. “Let’s go.”

He reluctantly let her steer him around the side of the house. By the time they reached the front yard, Jeffrey was calculating how he could go back.

“Stop,” she jerked his hand like she was heeling a dog on a leash. “You’re not making it better. You’re making it worse.”

“That man—”

“Is heartbroken. He’s trying to protect his daughter. He’s doing it in the wrong way, but he doesn’t know what else to do.”

Jeffrey watched Tommi’s mother close the curtains on the front window. The woman was sobbing.

“Stop.” Sara let her hand slip out from his. “Beating up that girl’s father will help you, but it won’t do a damn thing to help her.”

Jeffrey leaned against his palms on the roof of his car. He felt so fucking useless. He wanted to find the monster who had destroyed that girl and break him like a stick over his knee.

Sara crossed her arms. She waited.

He said, “Did you know that? What she said about the rapist holding the knitting needle to the back of her neck?”

“Not when it happened. She told me just now, before you got here.”

“You never asked her for details when you were treating her? When I could do something about it?”

“No,” Sara said. “She didn’t want to talk about it.”

“This was five months ago, right? After our divorce was finalized? Were you trying to punish me? Is that what this is all about?”

“Get in the car. I’m not doing this in the street.”

Jeffrey got into his car. Sara slammed her door so hard that the chassis shook.

She asked, “Do you honestly believe I would hold back something like this out of spite?”

Jeffrey looked back at the house. “You should’ve made her file a report, Sara.”

“I wasn’t going to force a woman who had just been brutally raped to do anything except exactly what she needed to do to feel safe.” Sara leaned up, blocking his view of the house. “Except for going to medical appointments, Tommi hasn’t walked more than ten yards into the backyard since it happened. She can’t sleep at night. She cries if her father is late getting home from work. She’s triggered by sounds, smells, anything from the sight of the mailman to the neighbor she’s known for twenty years. What happened to her in the woods is Tommi’s story to tell. She has a right to not speak about it.”

“That’s working really well for her. She’s practically catatonic.”

“That’s her choice. Do you want to take away her choice?” Sara added, “And what cop at your station right now can you name who would handle her report the way it should be handled?”

“Fuck this.” He turned the key in the ignition, but he didn’t want to go. “Why are you even here? You told me to stay away from her.”

“I knew you wouldn’t, and I wanted to prepare her.” Sara added, “You’re welcome, by the way. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever had to do to another woman.”

“Are you the patron saint of rape victims now?”

“I’m her doctor. She is my patient.” Sara slammed her fist against her chest. “My patient. Not your witness.”

“Your patient could’ve told me there was a sadist raping women on campus last year. She could’ve prevented Beckey Caterino from being attacked.”

“The same way you prevented Leslie Truong from disappearing?”

“That’s a low blow.”

“Everything is a low blow,” Sara said. “Everything is awful. That’s life, Jeffrey. You can only do what you can do. You can’t expect Tommi to bear the weight of responsibility for everything bad that has happened. She’s barely taking care of herself. And you can’t solve this by beating up her father as some kind of standin for the man who really hurt her.”

“I wasn’t—” He stopped short of slamming his fist against the steering wheel. “I wasn’t going to hit him.”

Sara let him stew in his own delusion.

As annoying as her silence could be, she sometimes used it judiciously. Jeffrey felt the tension start to release from his body. His mind started to clear. This was Sara’s white magic. She made him feel like the world was not going to grind him down into the ground. He would do anything to have these moments last.

He looked back at the house again. He hoped like hell that Tommi Humphrey would be able to find that same peace one day.

Sara cleared her throat. “Tommi said the attacker swung something at her head. She didn’t see it, but she was incapacitated by the blow.”

Again, Jeffrey thought of the crescent-shaped depression on the X-ray of Rebecca Caterino’s skull.

He said, “A hammer.”

“Tommi’s not exaggerating about her pubic hair being bleached. I could still smell it on her the next morning, even after she’d showered.”

Jeffrey nodded for her to continue, because he desperately needed to talk this out.

She said, “I feel like the attacker was watching her. He saw his chance when she was leaving the gym. He had the hammer with him. He had the bleach-soaked rag prepared to clean off any DNA. Which means he planned everything ahead of time, then waited for his moment.”

Jeffrey had worked out the same scenario with Caterino. “I think he was watching Beckey, too. She left the library around five in the morning. She had a meeting with Sibyl at seven. If the attacker knew Beckey’s schedule, he could’ve been waiting outside the dorm to follow her. Then, he sees she’s going for a run and he decides to make his move.”

“So you can assume the assailant is older, more patient. He’s able to blend in around town. He wants to be in control. He’s methodical. Prepared.”

Jeffrey wanted her to be wrong, because that type of assailant was the hardest to find.

He asked, “Did you smell bleach on Beckey?”

“No.” Sara paused, thinking. “What does that mean to you, that five months ago with Tommi, the attacker brought a hammer and the rag with bleach, but yesterday, with Beckey, he used a hammer and probably wiped her down with something unscented?”

“He’s altering his M.O., learning how to get better.” Jeffrey couldn’t consider the ramifications for the town. “What about the Gatorade?”

“Blue,” Sara said. “The undigested food blocking Beckey’s throat had a blue color consistent with Gatorade.”

“So did her vomit.” Jeffrey had thrown away his shirt and pants. He needed to get them out of the trash in case they were needed as evidence. “There must’ve been a drug in the drink.”

“Rohypnol? GHB?” Sara guessed. “He wanted her to be immobilized. Either one of those drugs would cause loss of muscle control, drowsiness, memory loss, a sense of euphoria.”

“Date-rape drugs,” he said, because he worked in a campus town and he was very familiar with the substances. “The attacker told her to keep her eyes open. He wanted her to know what he was doing, but he didn’t want her to stop it.”

“Drugging her would take away her awareness. Tommi said he waited for her to wake up in the woods. I’m certain she was still slipping in and out of consciousness. What she told you about the actual physical details of the rape, there’s more to it than that.”

Jeffrey shook his head. He wasn’t ready to hear the more right now. “What about the knitting needle he threatened Tommi with? Could that be the tool that was used to paralyze Beckey?”

“No.” Sara explained, “The puncture that we saw on Beckey’s MRI was too small in circumference. He used something else.”

“He learned to use something else,” Jeffrey said. “You think he has medical knowledge?”

“I think he has the internet,” she said. “You’re right about him learning, though. The violence from Tommi to Beckey feels like experimentation. He told Tommi to pretend she was paralyzed. He made sure Beckey didn’t have a choice. He wants them to be aware of the rape, but he doesn’t want them to be able to fight back. That’s his kink. He’s had five months to work on perfecting it.”

Jeffrey stared at the empty street ahead of him. Leslie Truong was still missing. They had combed the woods last night, but that was a lot of territory to cover in the dark. She could be lying out there, trapped in a half-alive, half-dead state.

He asked Sara, “Are there more girls, former patients, you’re not telling me about?”

“No.”

Jeffrey didn’t have time to feel relieved. “There has to be a fantasy element. He strategizes before he acts. He hunts them. He follows them. This man is a predator.”

“What did you mean when you asked Tommi if she was missing something?”