Mary Ann Moon was not a pleasant woman. There was a set to her mouth that said “Don’t fuck with me” before Jeffrey even had the opportunity to introduce himself. She had taken one look at Wright’s broken monitoring bracelet and directed her comments to Jeffrey.
“Do you know how much those things cost?”
It had gone downhill from there.
Jeffrey’s biggest problem with Moon, as she liked to be called, was the language barrier. Moon was from somewhere up east, the kind of place where consonants took on a life of their own. In addition to this, she spoke loudly and abruptly, two things that were considered very rude to southern ears. On the elevator ride up from central processing to the interview rooms, she stood too close to him, her mouth set in a fixed line of disapproval, her arms crossed low over her waist. Moon was about forty years old, but it was the hard kind of forty that too much smoking and drinking can do to a person. She had dark blond hair with light strands of gray mixed in. Her lips had wrinkles spreading out from them in deep rays.
Her nasal tone and the fact that she spoke sixty miles an hour gave Jeffrey the impression that he was talking to a French horn. Every response Jeffrey gave her was slow in coming because he had to wait for his brain to translate her words. He could tell early on that Moon took this slowness for stupidity, but there really wasn’t anything he could do about it.
She said something to him over her shoulder as they walked through the precinct. He slowed it down, realizing she had said, “Tell me about your case, Chief.”
He gave her a quick rundown of what had happened since Sibyl Adams had been found, leaving out his connection to Sara. He could tell the story wasn’t progressing quickly enough, because Moon kept interrupting him with questions he was about to answer if she would give him a second to finish his sentence.
“I take it you went into my boy’s house?” she said. “You see all that Jesus shit?” She rolled her eyes. “That nine mill didn’t walk in under your pant leg, did it, Sheriff Taylor?”
Jeffrey gave her what he hoped was a threatening look. She responded with an outburst of laughter that pierced his eardrum. “That name sounds familiar.”
“What’s that?”
“Linton. Tolliver, too.” She put her tiny hands on her slim hips. “I’m very good about notification, Chief. I’ve called Sara maybe a handful of times to let her know where Jack Allen Wright is. It’s my job to do victim notification on an annual basis. Her case was ten years ago?”
“Twelve.”
“So, that’s at least twelve times I’ve talked to her.”
He came clean, knowing he was busted. “Sara is my ex-wife. She was one of Wright’s first victims.”
“They let you work the case knowing your connection?”
“I’m in charge of the case, Ms. Moon,” he answered.
She gave him a steady look that probably worked on her parolees, but did nothing but irritate Jeffrey. He was about two feet taller than Mary Ann Moon and not about to be intimidated by this little ball of Yankee hate.
“Wright’s a Depo freak. You know what I mean by that?”
“He obviously likes taking it.”
“This goes way back to his early days, right after Sara. You’ve seen pictures of him?”
Jeffrey shook his head.
“Follow me,” Moon said.
He did as he was told, trying not to step on her heels. She was fast about everything but walking, and his stride was more than double hers. She stopped in front of a small office that was jam-packed with file storage boxes. She stepped over a pile of manuals, pulling a file off her desk.
“This place is a mess,” she said, as if the fact had nothing to do with her. “Here.”
Jeffrey opened the file, seeing a younger, slimmer, less womanly photograph of Jack Allen Wright clipped to the top page. He had more hair on his head, and his face was lean. His body was cut the way men who spend three hours a day lifting weights get, and his eyes were a piercing blue. Jeffrey remembered Wright’s rheumy eyes from before. He also remembered that part of Sara’s ID had come from his clear blue eyes. Every aspect of Wright’s appearance had been altered since he had assaulted Sara. This was the man Jeffrey had been expecting when he searched Wright’s house. This was the man who had raped Sara, who had robbed her of her ability to give Jeffrey a child.
Moon shuffled through the file. “This is his release photo,” she said, sliding out another photograph.
Jeffrey nodded, seeing the man he knew as Wright.
“He served hard time, you know that?”
Jeffrey nodded again.
“Lots of men try to fight. Some of them just give in.”
“You’re breaking my heart,” Jeffrey mumbled. “He have many visitors in prison?”
“Just his mother.”
Jeffrey closed the file and handed it back to her. “What about when he got out of jail? He obviously went off the Depo, right? He raped again.”
“He says he didn’t, but there’s no way in hell he’d be able to get it up on the dosage he was supposed to be taking.”
“Who was supervising it?”
“He was under his own supervision.” She stopped him before he could say anything. “Listen, I know it’s not perfect, but we have to trust them sometimes. Sometimes we’re wrong. We were wrong with Wright.” She threw the folder back on her desk. “He goes to the clinic now and gets his Depo injected once a week. It’s all nice and clean. The bracelet you were kind enough to destroy kept him under close supervision. He was in line.”
“He hasn’t left the city?”
“No,” she answered. “I did a spot check on him last Monday at work. He was at the Bank Building.”
“Nice of you to put him near all those college girls.”
“You’re crossing a line,” she warned.
He held up his hands, palms out.
“Write down whatever questions you want asked,” she said. “I’ll talk to Wright.”
“I need to work off his answers.”
“Technically, I don’t even have to let you in here. You should be glad I’m not kicking your ass all the way back to Mayberry.”
He literally bit his tongue so he would not snap back at her. She was right. He could call some friends of his on the APD tomorrow morning so he would get better treatment, but for right now, Mary Ann Moon was in charge.
Jeffrey said, “Can you give me a minute?” He indicated the desk. “I need to check in with my people.”
“I can’t make long-distance calls.”
He held up his cell phone. “It’s more privacy that I was looking for.”
She nodded, turning around.
“Thanks,” Jeffrey offered, but she did not answer in kind. He waited until she was down the hallway, then closed the door. After stepping over a group of boxes, he sat at her desk. The chair was low to the ground, and his knees felt like they were about to touch his ears. Jeffrey looked at his watch before dialing Sara’s number. She was an early-to-bed kind of person, but he needed to talk to her. He felt a wave of excitement wash over him as the phone rang.
She answered the phone on the fourth ring, her voice heavy with sleep. “Hello?”
He realized he had been holding his breath. “Sara?”
She was silent, and for a moment he thought she had hung up the phone. He heard her moving, sheets rustling; she was in bed. He could hear rain falling outside, and a distant thunder rumbled over the phone. Jeffrey had a flash of a night they had shared a long time ago. Sara never liked storms, and she had awakened him, wanting Jeffrey to take her mind off the thunder and lightning.
“What do you want?” she asked.
He searched for something to say, knowing suddenly that he had waited too long to get in touch with her. He could tell from the tone of her voice that something had changed in their relationship. He was not altogether sure how or why.
“I tried to call before,” he said, feeling like he was lying even though he was not. “At the clinic,” he said.
“That so?”
“I talked to Nelly,” he said.
“Did you tell her it was important?”
Jeffrey felt his stomach drop. He didn’t answer.
Sara gave what he thought was a laugh.
He said, “I didn’t want to talk to you until I had something.”
“Something on what?”
“I’m in Atlanta.”
She was silent, then, “Let me guess, 633 Ashton Street.”
“Earlier,” he answered. “I’m at APD headquarters now. We’ve got him in an interview room.”
“Jack?” she asked.
Something about her familiar use of his name set Jeffrey’s teeth on edge.
“Moon called me when his monitor went off,” Sara provided in a dull tone. “I had a feeling that’s where you were.”
“I wanted to talk to him about what’s going on before I called in the cavalry.”
She sighed heavily. “Good for you.”
The line was quiet again, and Jeffrey was again lost for words. Sara interrupted the silence.
She asked, “Is that why you called me? To tell me that you arrested him?”
“To see if you were okay.”
She gave a small laugh. “Oh, yeah. I’m just peachy, Jeff. Thanks for calling.”
“Sara?” he asked, scared she would hang up. “I tried to call before.”
“Evidently not that hard,” she said.
Jeffrey could feel her anger coming across the phone. “I wanted to have something to tell you when I called. Something concrete.”
She stopped him, her tone terse and low. “You didn’t know what to say, so instead of walking two blocks to the clinic or making sure you got through to me, you scooted off to Atlanta to see Jack face-to-face.” She paused. “Tell me how it felt to see him, Jeff.”
He could not answer her.
“What’d you do, beat him up?” Her tone turned accusatory. “Twelve years ago, I could’ve used that. Right now I just wanted you to be there for me. To support me.”
“I’m trying to support you, Sara,” Jeffrey countered, feeling blindsided. “What do you think I’m doing up here? I’m trying to find out if this guy is still out there raping women.”
“Moon says he hasn’t left town in the last two years.”
“Maybe Wright’s involved in what’s going on in Grant. Did you think of that?”
“No, actually,” she answered glibly. “All I could think was I showed you that transcript this morning, I bared my soul to you, and your response was to get out of town.”
“I wanted—”
“You wanted to get away from me. You didn’t know how to deal with it, so you left. I guess it’s not as tricky as letting me come home and catch you with another woman in our bed, but it sends the same kind of message, doesn’t it?”
He shook his head, not understanding how it had come to this. “How is it the same? I’m trying to help you.”
Her voice changed then, and she didn’t seem angry so much as deeply hurt. She had talked to him like this only once before, right after she had caught him cheating. He had felt then as he felt now, like a selfish asshole.
She said, “How are you helping me in Atlanta? How does it help me having you four hours away? Do you know how I felt all day, jumping every time the phone rang, hoping it was you?” She answered for him. “I felt like an idiot. Do you know how hard it was for me to show you that? To let you know what had happened to me?”
“I didn’t—”
“I’m nearly forty years old, Jeffrey. I choose to be a good daughter to my parents and a supportive sister to Tessa. I chose to push myself so I could graduate at the top of my class from one of the finest universities in America. I chose to be a pediatrician so I could help kids. I chose to move back to Grant so I could be close to my family. I chose to be your wife for six years because I loved you so much, Jeffrey. I loved you so much.” She stopped, and he could tell that she was crying. “I didn’t choose to be raped.”
He tried to speak, but she wouldn’t let him.
“What happened to me took fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes and all of that was wiped out. None of it matters when you take those fifteen minutes into account.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s not?” she asked. “Then why didn’t you call me this morning?”
“I tried to—”
“You didn’t call me because you see me as a victim now. You see me the same way you see Julia Matthews and Sibyl Adams.”
“I don’t, Sara,” he countered, shocked that she would accuse him of such a thing. “I don’t see—”
“I sat there in that hospital bathroom on my knees for two hours before they cut me loose. I nearly bled to death,” she said. “When he was done with me, there was nothing left. Nothing at all. I had to rebuild my life. I had to accept that because of that bastard I would never have children. Not that I ever wanted to think about having sex again. Not that I thought any man would want to touch me after what he did to me.” She stopped, and he wanted so badly to say something to her, but the words would not come.
Her voice was low when she said, “You said I never opened up to you? Well, this is why. I tell you my deepest, darkest secret and what do you do? You run off to Atlanta to confront the man who did it instead of talking to me. Instead of comforting me.”
“I thought you’d want me to do something.”
“I did want you to do something,” she answered, her tone filled with sadness. “I did.”
The phone clicked in his ear as she hung up. He dialed her number again, but the line was busy. He kept hitting “send” on the phone, trying the line five more times, but Sara had taken her phone off the hook.
Jeffrey stood behind the one-way glass in the observation room, playing back his conversation with Sara in his mind. An overwhelming sadness enveloped him. He knew that she was right about calling. He should have insisted Nelly put him through. He should have gone to the clinic and told her that he still loved her, that she was still the most important woman in his life. He should have gotten on his knees and begged her to come back to him. He shouldn’t have left her. Again.
Jeffrey thought of how Lena had used the term victim a few days ago, describing targets of sexual predators. She had put a spin on the word, saying it the same way she would say “weak” or “stupid.” Jeffrey had not liked that classification from Lena, and he certainly did not like hearing it from Sara. He probably knew Sara better than any other man in her life, and Jeffrey knew that Sara was not a victim of anything but her own damning self-judgment. He did not see her as a victim in that context. If anything, he saw her as a survivor. Jeffrey was hurt to his very core that Sara would think so little of him.
Moon interrupted his thoughts, asking, “About ready to start?”
“Yeah,” Jeffrey answered, blocking Sara from his mind. No matter what she had said, Wright was still a viable lead to what was going on in Grant County. Jeffrey was already in Atlanta. There was no reason to go back until he had gotten everything he needed from the man. Jeffrey clenched his jaw, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand as he stared through the glass.
Moon entered the room loudly, banging the door closed behind her, raking a chair out from the table, the legs screeching against the tiled floor. For all the APD’s money and special funding, the city’s interview rooms were not nearly as clean as the ones in Grant County. The room Jack Allen Wright sat in was dingy and dirty. The cement walls were unpainted and gray. There was a gloominess to the room that would encourage anyone to confess just to get out of the place. Jeffrey took this all in as he watched Mary Ann Moon work Wright. She was not nearly as good as Lena Adams, but there was no denying Moon had a rapport with the rapist. She talked to him like a big sister.
She asked, “That old redneck didn’t fool with you, did he?”
Jeffrey knew she was trying to bridge some trust with Wright, but he did not appreciate the characterization, mostly because he guessed Mary Ann Moon thought it was an accurate one.
“He busted my bracelet,” Wright said. “I didn’t do that.”
“Jack.” Moon sighed, sitting across from him at the table. “I know that, okay? We need to find out how that gun got under your mattress. That’s a clear violation and you’re on your third strike. Right?”
Wright glanced at the mirror, probably knowing full well that Jeffrey was behind it. “I don’t know how it got there.”
“Guess he put your fingerprints on it, too?” Moon asked, crossing her arms.
Wright seemed to think this over. Jeffrey knew that gun belonged to Wright, but he also knew that there was no way in hell Moon would have been able to run the gun through forensics this quickly and get any kind of ID on the prints.
“I was scared,” Wright finally answered. “My neighbors know, all right? They know what I am.”
“What are you?”
“They know about my girls.”
Moon stood from the chair. She turned her back to Wright, looking out the window. A mesh just like the ones at Wright’s house covered the frame. Jeffrey was startled to realize that the man had made his own home resemble a prison.
“Tell me about your girls,” Moon said. “I’m talking about Sara.”
Jeffrey felt his hands clench at Sara’s name.
Wright sat back, licking his lips. “There was a tight pussy.” He smirked. “She was good to me.”
Moon’s voice was bored. She had been doing this long enough not to be shocked. She asked, “She was?”
“She was so sweet.”
Moon turned around, leaning her back against the mesh. “You know what’s going on where she lives, I take it. You know what’s been happening to the girls.”
“I only know what I read in the papers,” Wright said, offering a shrug. “You ain’t gonna send me up on that gun, are you, boss? I had to protect myself. I was scared for my life.”
“Let’s talk about Grant County,” Moon offered. “Then we’ll talk about the gun.”
Wright picked at his face, gauging her. “You’re being straight with me?”
“Of course I am, Jack. When have I not been straight with you?”
Wright seemed to weigh his options. As far as Jeffrey could see, it was a no-brainer: jail or cooperation. Still, he imagined Wright wanted some semblance of control in his life.
“That thing that was done to her car,” Wright said.
“What’s that?” Moon asked.
“That word on her car,” Wright clarified. “I didn’t do that.”
“You didn’t?”
“I told my lawyer, but he said it didn’t matter.”
“It matters now, Jack,” Moon said, just the right amount of insistence in her voice.
“I wouldn’t write that on somebody’s car.”
“Cunt?” she asked. “That’s what you called her in the bathroom.”
“That was different,” he said. “That was the heat of the moment.”
Moon did not respond to this. “Who wrote it?”
“That, I don’t know,” Wright answered. “I was in the hospital all day, working. I didn’t know what kind of car she drove. Could’ve guessed it, though. She had that attitude, you know? Like she was better than everybody else.”
“We’re not going to get into that, Jack.”
“I know,” he said, looking down. “I’m sorry.”
“Who do you think wrote that on her car?” Moon asked. “Somebody at the hospital?”
“Somebody who knew her, knew what she drove.”
“Maybe a doctor?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You being straight with me?”
He seemed startled by her question. “Hell, yeah, I am.”
“So, you think somebody at the hospital might have written that on her car. Why?”
“Maybe she pissed them off?”
“She piss a lot of people off?”
“No.” He shook his head vehemently. “Sara was good people. She always talked to everybody.” He seemed to not remember his earlier comments about how conceited Sara was. Wright continued, “She always said hey to me in the hall. You know, not like ‘How you doing’ or anything like that but, ‘Hey, I know you’re there.’ Most people, they see you but they don’t. Know what I mean?”
“Sara’s a nice girl,” Moon said, keeping him on track. “Who would do that to her car?”
“Maybe somebody was pissed at her about something?”
Jeffrey put his hand to the glass, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise. Moon picked up on this as well.
She asked, “About what?”
“I don’t know,” Wright answered. “I’m just saying I never wrote that on her car.”
“You’re sure about that.”
Wright swallowed hard. “You said you’d trade the gun for this, right?”
Moon gave him a nasty look. “Don’t question me, Jack. I told you up front that was the deal. What have you got for us?”
Wright glanced toward the mirror. “That’s all I have, that I didn’t do that to her car.”
“Who did, then?”
Wright shrugged. “I told you I don’t know.”
“You think the same guy who scratched her car is doing this stuff in Grant County?”
He shrugged again. “I’m not a detective. I’m just telling you what I know.”
Moon crossed her arms over her chest. “We’re gonna keep you in lockup over the weekend. When we talk on Monday, you see if you’ve got an idea who this person might be.”
Tears came to Wright’s eyes. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“We’ll see if it’s the same truth on Monday morning.”
“Don’t send me back in there, please.”
“It’s just holding, Jack,” Moon offered. “I’ll make sure you get your own cell.”
“Just let me go home.”
“I don’t think so,” Moon countered. “We’ll let you stew for a day. Give you some time to get your priorities straight.”
“They are straight. I promise.”
Moon did not wait for more. She left Wright in the room, his head in his hands, crying.