Elsie bypassed the information desk at Barton Memorial. The silver-haired volunteer sitting behind the counter had proven to be uninformative in the past.
She headed for the emergency services doorway and pushed through. Ignoring the check-in personnel, she walked straight through to the head nurse’s station.
“Hey, Alice,” Elsie said.
A woman wearing white scrubs looked up. With a sad shake of her head, she said, “Right here in Barton. Who’d have thought?”
Elsie leaned over the counter and spoke in a whisper. “Can you bring me up to speed, Alice? Ashlock called to tell me about it, but I missed the call; and he’s tied up.”
Alice glanced over her shoulder, then beckoned to Elsie. “That little girl had the tar beat out of her. But she’s not talking—not yet, anyway. Maybe when Ashlock gets here, she’ll open up.” She gave Elsie a steadfast look through tortoise shell glasses. “Or maybe you can try.”
Elsie backed away a step, thinking. She had a fair amount of experience with young victims of crime. But the police department always took the initial statement.
Alice interrupted her reverie. “She is still back there, in the ER. We haven’t moved her to a room yet.”
Staring down the open hallway, Elsie was tempted to approach the girl.
“How old is she?” Elsie asked.
Alice rolled her eyes. “Eighteen. She claims. Doesn’t look a day over fifteen. Well, to the extent that I can make out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her face is beat up pretty bad. You’ll see.”
Involuntarily, Elsie shut her eyes. Confronting the reality of violence against young girls was the toughest part of her job. She never became immune to the shock and horror of seeing it.
In a hushed voice, she said, “And sexual?”
Alice’s forehead wrinkled. “The physical exam is consistent with recent sexual activity. But there’s no ejaculate. Must have worn a condom.”
Elsie frowned. The use of a condom prevented the easy DNA match that could have been provided by a timely rape screen.
“Well?” Alice said.
Elsie glanced down at Alice, who was looking at her with an expectant face. “You want to go on back?” Alice inclined her head toward the hallway.
Elsie paused, pulling her phone from her bag. No texts, nothing from Ashlock. Sighing, she slipped the phone back into her purse.
“I’ll just take a peek.”
Alice nodded. “She’s in the second exam room. You know the way.”
Elsie walked through the white hallway, wrinkling her nose against the smell of disinfectant. The door to the exam room was open, and she stepped inside. A blue nylon curtain shielded the bed from view.
She moved to the bed on tiptoe, so her heels wouldn’t clatter on the tile floor. Reaching out, she pushed the blue curtain with a careful hand, and saw a dark-haired girl lying beneath a white sheet.
The metal hooks connecting the curtain to the overhead rod rattled. One of the girl’s eyes opened, the other was a bruised slit on her face.
“Who are you?” the girl asked in an unfriendly voice.
Elsie gave a sympathetic grimace as she studied the girl. The left eye was blackened, in addition to being swollen shut; her mouth was also swollen, her lip split. In a soft voice, she said, “I’m Elsie. Elsie Arnold.”
“Are you a cop?” The girl’s lips moved with an effort as she spoke; Elsie knew it must be painful.
“No. No, I’m not.”
The girl whispered, “You ain’t a nurse. You not dressed right.”
“Not that either.” She took a step closer to the bed. “I’m a lawyer. I work for the Prosecutor’s Office.”
The girl cut her eyes away. “I don’t need no lawyer.”
A metal stool sat in the corner; Elsie wheeled it over to the bedside and sat. “Mind if I keep you company?”
The girl shrugged her shoulders, then winced. Elsie wondered how extensive her bodily injuries were. The sheet was pulled up to her chin; not even her hospital gown was visible.
Alice appeared at Elsie’s shoulder. Her white athletic shoes hadn’t made a sound. She pushed the nylon curtain open wide and said, “Look who’s awake. Mandy, have you met Elsie?”
Mandy nodded. Elsie looked up at Alice. “Do you need for me to step out?”
“No, I’m just taking her vitals.” Alice walked to the other side of the bed and slipped a blood pressure cuff onto Mandy’s arm. Elsie caught a glimpse of fingerprint bruises. Mandy stared at the cuff for a moment, then turned her face away, toward Elsie.
Elsie nodded in Alice’s direction. “Mandy, Alice and I went to high school together, here in Barton. Of course it’s been a while ago.”
“Fourteen years,” Alice said in her brisk voice.
“Thanks, Alice; now Mandy will think we’re ancient.”
“Hush.” Alice had the stethoscope on the pulse inside Mandy’s elbow.
Elsie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Where do you go to school, Mandy?”
“I don’t.” She didn’t bother to whisper.
Even under the sheet, Elsie could detect the girl’s slight form, her flat chest, and narrow hips. Mandy’s feet didn’t approach the end of the small bed. In an even tone, Elsie said, “What year did you graduate?”
“I quit.”
Alice exchanged a look with Elsie as she pulled the Velcro and removed the cuff with a ripping sound. In a defiant voice, the girl said, “I’m eighteen. I don’t have to go no more.”
Elsie’s eyes widened but she kept a friendly face. “Wow, eighteen. I wouldn’t have thought.”
Alice picked up the chart from the end of the bed. “Mandy, when you came in, they didn’t get your next of kin. We’ll want to tell your folks that you’re here. How can I get in touch? With your mother?”
Mandy closed her eyes. “Dead.”
Alice’s breath caught, but she recovered quickly.
“I’m so sorry. Your dad, then?”
“Dead.”
Alice looked up from the chart. “Goodness. Both parents?”
The girl’s response was so soft that Elsie barely caught it.
“Dead to me.”
Alice was marking on the chart. Elsie wanted to place a hand on the girl’s arm, just to reach out; but she held back. “Mandy, hon. Who’s your family?”
The girl opened her eyes and fixed them on Elsie. Deadpan, she said, “I take care of myself.”
Elsie nodded. “Okay. How do you do that?”
The girl raised her head. With a challenge in her eyes, she said. “I’m a whore.”
Alice dropped the chart. It clattered on the floor.