Behind Closed Doors

She was doing better today. Or maybe she was just more relaxed because she was with her parents, in the home where she’d grown up. The home where she’d been innocent and at peace.

“Isn’t she going to wonder why you haven’t been at work?”

Sharon had yet to look at her without obvious concern in her eyes, as though, if she just looked hard enough, she’d see the marks those men had left on her daughter’s soul.

“Harry told them I wasn’t feeling well. That’s enough.”

“But you and Kelly are so close…”

“I know, Mom.” Laura wasn’t sure she was making the right choices, only that she was doing what she had to. She was living her life solely on that level right now. She was protecting herself from the past—and the future.

Miller had done his research well. Two companies had installed windows within a five-mile radius of the Kendall home in the past two weeks. All the installers except one had an alibi for the previous Thursday night.

The remaining one was female.

Daniel felt the tension building within him, starting at his neck and traveling in both directions. If there wasn’t a break in this case soon, he’d be popping pills for a migraine—and sleeping flat on the floor in an attempt to ease the soreness in his back.

Staring at a list of suction-cup suppliers, preparing to get a warrant for all records of sales in Tucson over the past six months, Daniel heard his cell phone ring. He unclipped it from his hip.

“Boyd.”

“I did some reading last night,” Harry Kendall said after introducing himself. “I’m pretty certain that as far as the smaller guy goes, we’re dealing with a power-reassurance rapist. Enough of the profile fits. Non-violent attack in the middle of the night. Breaking into the victim’s home. No weapon. Lack of athleticism.”

Taking the phone away from his ear only long enough to switch sides, Boyd remembered how it felt to be powerless.

“It’s the other one I can’t place, and he was the one in charge,” Harry was saying. “My best guess is the power-assertive rapist. He definitely fit the athletic, macho image and was physically aggressive without being overtly sadistic.

“Neither of them appeared to feel any animosity toward Laura. The first one treated her more like a…machine. And the other acted as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her.”

Daniel murmured something noncommittal. He and Miller had already been through the profiles—various FBI standard descriptions of rapists that were used not only by law enforcement agencies throughout the country, but also by university psychology classes, women’s self-defense programs and so on.

Apparently by victims’ husbands, as well.

They’d been through them and more or less dismissed them. The profiles described single rapists—not teams.

“It’s eleven o’clock on Monday morning, Mr. Kendall. Have you been to bed yet?”

“Yes. I’m getting in four or so hours, from dawn until about nine.”

“Is your wife there with you?”

“No.” The man didn’t seem at all pleased by that. “She insisted on going to work, so I did, too.”

“You’re at the university?”

“In my office, yes. I’m teaching summer sessions.”

“Do you have any classes today?”

“Three. I specialize in American history, which is the most popular history elective, so I tend to have a full schedule. I just finished class. I’ve got two more this afternoon but I can cancel them if you need me.”

Tapping a pencil against the edge of his desk, Boyd stared at the list of stores for which he had to prepare paperwork to subpoena suction cup sales records. He sighed, considering the hours he’d have to spend pouring over those records.

“What I need, Mr. Kendall, is for you to take care of your wife and let me do my job.”

The silence was almost painful.

“Look, I know what you’re going through,” he said, stepping away from his desk to the deserted hallway beyond. “I understand the rage, the feeling of being emasculated, the need to take back the power that was stolen for you—to prove to your wife and yourself that you’re man enough….”

He paused, giving Kendall a chance to deny any of the assertions.

And when he didn’t, Daniel said, “I also know that for me to say that you did everything you could, that what happened is no reflection on you, won’t do any good at this point. But what I need you to understand is that I’m highly trained to find these guys. I’ve been at this a long time. If they’re out there, I will get them.”

Kendall still said nothing. Daniel took that as a good sign.

“Don’t let these guys take any more than they already have, Mr. Kendall,” he said slowly. “Don’t let them rob your wife of the man you used to be.”

Still nothing.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

Daniel half smiled. “Okay.”

He’d said goodbye and his phone was halfway from his ear when he heard, “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“One more thing.”

“Sure. What?”

“Do you think we’re dealing with a power-reassurance here?”

Daniel shook his head. The man wasn’t letting this go, wouldn’t stop tormenting himself.

“I just need to know that much,” Kendall said. “I need to know what I’m dealing with. In case they come back.”

“They aren’t coming back.”

“Please.”

“Yes,” Daniel heard himself say, regretting the answer even as he gave it. “One of them fits the power-reassurance profile.” He was only distorting an emotionally upset man’s equilibrium that much more.

Because if Kendall had done his research, as Daniel was sure he had, he’d realize that the power-reassurance rapist was—sometimes—known to repeat on the same victim.

On Tuesday, Laura was late getting home from work. She’d been harvesting pads of a variety of prickly pear that she and Kelly had spent the past six months cultivating for an experimental diabetes treatment. Harry was standing in the driveway as she pulled in.