“Which guy, green or blue?”
“Green.”
“What kind of bandage? What did it look like?”
“It was like one of the biggest ones you can get? It was square. Right here.”
She pointed to the inside of her upper arm.
“Do you think it was to cover up a tattoo?”
“I don’t know. I only saw it for, like, half a second.”
“Okay, Cindy, I know this is difficult, but I want to go through what they did to you, and I also need to take my own photos of your injuries. But first I want to ask, Did they say anything to you, anything at all, that might mean that they knew who you were before last night?”
“You mean, like, that it wasn’t random? No, I didn’t know these guys. At all.”
“No, what I mean is, do you think they saw you somewhere, like the coffee shop or where you shop or anywhere else, and decided to target you? Or was it the opposite? They targeted your neighborhood and picked you that way.”
Carpenter shook her head.
“I have no idea,” she said. “They didn’t say stuff like that, they just threatened me and said shit. Like, you think you’re so cool and so high-and-mighty. They — ”
She stopped to bring the tissue up as a wave of tears came. Ballard reached out and touched her arm.
“I’m sorry to put you through this,” Ballard said.
“It’s like I’m having to relive it,” Carpenter said.
“I know. But it will help us catch these two … men. And stop them from possibly hurting other women.”
Ballard waited a few moments for Carpenter to compose herself. Then started again.
“Let’s talk about last night before anything happened,” she said. “Did you go out or stay in for New Year’s?”
“Well, I worked till nine, when we closed the shop,” Carpenter said.
“You’re talking about Native Bean?”
“Yes, we call it the Bean. One of my girls has Covid and the schedule is all messed up. I had to work the last shift of the year.”
“I like your shop. I moved over to Finley a few months ago and I’ve been getting my coffee there. Your blueberry muffins are fantastic. Anyway, so you closed up at nine and then you went home? Or did you stop somewhere?”
Ballard guessed she would say she stopped at the Gelson’s supermarket on Franklin. It would be on her way home, and one of the other victims had shopped there the night of her attack.
“I went right home,” Carpenter said. “I made dinner — leftover takeout.”
“And you live alone?” Ballard asked.
“Yes, since I got divorced.”
“What did you do after dinner?”
“I just took a shower and went to bed. I was supposed to open this morning.”
“You open most mornings, right? That’s when I’ve seen you.”
“That’s me. We open at seven.”
“Do you usually take your shower in the morning, before going to work?”
“Actually, no, I’d rather sleep later, so I — Why is this important?”
“Because at this point we really don’t know what’s important.”
Ballard’s disappointment in not getting the Gelson’s connection had disappeared when Carpenter mentioned taking a shower. The two previous victims had said they showered before going to bed on the nights they were assaulted. With only two victims saying this, it could be coincidence. But three out of three became a pattern. Ballard felt her instincts stirring. She believed she might have something to work with.
10
Cindy Carpenter refused further medical attention to her physical injuries. She told Ballard she just wanted to go home. It was a long ride back from the RTC to the Dell, and Ballard used it to go through the story again. By now Carpenter was wrung out and tired but she cooperated, telling the story again in all its humiliating detail, telling what the rapists made her do, what she had heard, and what she had managed to see when the mask taped over her eyes began to come loose. From the first telling at the RTC to the second in the car, Carpenter told the same story, adding or subtracting a few details here and there, but not contradicting herself at any point in the narrative. This was good, Ballard knew. It meant she would be a good witness in terms of the investigation and at trial, should a case ever be made.
Ballard complimented her and told her why. It was important to keep Carpenter cooperating. Often victims grew reluctant when they started to weigh their psychic recovery against trusting the system.