Peter Decker 3-Book Thriller Collection: False Prophet, Grievous Sin, Sanctuary. Faye Kellerman

moment, throwing him off balance. He looked down at his notepad. “Did you happen to catch a glimpse of either of your attackers?”

      She closed her eyes and seemed to enter a trance. “I see them perfectly. The first one is slight, dark-complexioned, blue eyes, black hair, thick eyebrows, a mole right under his lower lip. High cheekbones, thinnish lips, prominent chin but no cleft, birdlike neck …” She opened her eyes. “You’re not writing. Am I talking too fast, Peter?”

      Decker said, “I’m a little confused.”

      Lilah looked puzzled. “How so?”

      “Miss Brec—Uh, Lilah, you’re giving me a lot of detail—”

      “Faces—as well as bodies—are my business, Peter.”

      “I’d like to ask a police artist to come down. I want you to describe your attackers to him.”

      “Certainly.”

      “I’d also like you to look through some mug shots I have in my briefcase. Maybe these animals have done something like this before and you can pick them out.”

      “As you wish.”

      He handed her the photos of the local sex offenders and used the hospital phone to place a call to the station. As he waited for the lines to connect, he noticed Lilah flipping through the pictures with little interest. He finally made contact with the police artist, then hung up.

      “Someone will be here in about twenty minutes,” Decker said. “None of these men look like—”

      “No, none.”

      “You’re sure—”

      “Very.” Lilah sank back into her pillow. “My God, I’m tired.”

      “I’m sure you must be,” Decker said. “What were you doing walking around?”

      “Just trying to feel … human again.” She brushed a tear away from her eye. “I’ll heal outside. I hurt, but I know I’ll heal. It’s the inside …” She regarded him, took his hand. “May I hold your hand?”

      “Of course,” Decker answered.

      He knew that women reacted very differently to sexual assault. Some couldn’t bear the sight of a man; others wanted their husbands or boyfriends to make love to them immediately after the ordeal. Some crawled into shells and never came out; others acted as if nothing of significance had happened. If the primary detective on the case was male, rape survivors often developed a kind of transference with him, either good or bad depending on the rapport. Some women had been so grateful for Decker’s sympathetic ear, they had named their babies after him. But there was something odd about Lilah.

      “Are you up to answering a few more questions?” Decker asked.

      Lilah brought his hand to her cheek and nodded.

      “Okay. Then let me ask you this. When did you manage to make out your attackers so clearly?”

      “I saw them as soon as they touched me.” Her lower lip began to tremble. “I was so … can you hold me, Peter? Just for a brief moment.”

      She came to him, then abruptly pulled back and brought her hand to her mouth.

      “No, forget I said that. I can see by your ring that you’re married. It’s just that I’m feeling so vulnerable right now. I need someone to lean on. May I take your hand again?”

      She took it without waiting for a response, began to play with his wedding band. Though he had comforted many survivors, none were as overtly sexual—as deadly sexual—as this one. He kept his face impassive and said, “Do you have a boyfriend you want me to call?”

      Lilah’s eyes suddenly grew cold. “No.”

      “How about your bro—”

      “Give me a break!” She jerked her hand away.

      “Would you feel more comfortable if you were interviewed by a woman?”

      “Would you feel more comfortable if I was interviewed by a woman?”

      “Lilah, I want to nab the monsters who did this to you. Take them off the street so they can’t do it to some other woman. But to do that, I need your help. I really need your help.”

      Again, her eyes moistened. “It’s just so hard.”

      “I’m sorry. I really am sorry.”

      She grabbed his wrist before he could pull away and brought his hand to her cheek. “I connect with you.”

      Ignoring the impulse to tug his hand away, he said, “I’m glad you connect with me. Maybe you can connect me to your attackers.”

      Lilah broke into laughter and tears at the same time. Slowly, she kissed his fingers one at a time.

      Despite himself, he felt a pull down below and decided to break physical contact. “Can you talk about what happened?”

      She settled back. “Yes, I can. I feel strong now.”

      “You say you didn’t hear them come in?”

      “No.”

      “You were asleep.”

      “Yes.”

      “Do you happen to know what time you awoke?”

      “No.”

      “You woke when you felt them on top of you.”

      “Actually, I sensed them. Before I felt them, before I opened my eyes. But I couldn’t wake myself up fast enough. I couldn’t react … then … it was too late. They were on top of me … slapping me … hitting me … with … their fists … beating …”

      Decker realized she was gasping and told her to wait a moment. When Lilah regained a steady tempo of respiration, she said, “Why didn’t they just break open the safe and leave? Why did they have to destroy my belongings? Why did they have to hit me? Why did they hurt me? Why did they rape me?”

      “Because these guys are monsters and they enjoy hurting women.”

      “But why! Oh, hell, I know there aren’t any simple answers. You’re not like that, Peter, I can tell. I feel so safe. So … protected when I’m with you.”

      “That’s what the police are for.”

      She locked eyes with him, not pleased with his response. He knew it, but continued anyway.

      “I’m going to have to ask you some sensitive questions. Do you think you’re up to answering them?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “If you start to feel panicky, stop until you’re calmer. I don’t care how long it takes. I want to make this as comfortable as possible for you. All right?”

      She nodded.

      “Did both men rape you?”

      “Just … I … only one.”

      “You’re sure?”

      “Just one. I’m positive.”

      “Did he penetrate you vaginally?”

      Her face whitened but she answered yes.

      “You’re sure?”

      “Yes, I’m sure.”

      “Did he penetrate you anally?”

      She shook her head.

      “Did he attempt to penetrate you anally?”

      “No.”

      “You’re doing great, Lilah. Just a few more questions. Did he ejaculate inside of you?”

      “I …” She buried her face in her hands. “I don’t remember really. While