High Noon

left after the docs gave him your status. I’m to tell you he’ll come back to take you home when you’re ready.”
    “It’s better if he stays at the house, finds…I don’t know what there’ll be to find. I was coming down from my office to the conference room for my training session. That’s habitual. I use the stairs habitually.”
    “Claustrophobia?”
    “No, vanity. I don’t always have time to work out, so I go for the stairs instead of the elevator. He was waiting for me.”
    “You said you didn’t see him.”
    “No.” Cautiously, Phoebe touched her fingers to her face, just under her eye. She’d never had a black eye before, never appreciated how much it hurt. “I was going down pretty fast, and I caught just a blur of movement out of the corner of my eye—on the right. Thanks.”
    She took the ice bag Liz offered, laid it gently on the side of her face. “He had me before I could even turn my head, before I could reach for my weapon. He knew what he was doing. Disabled me immediately with the blow to the head. Rapped me face-first into the wall, stunned me. Taped my mouth and cuffed me quick. He’s used cuffs before. Anticipated my defensive moves, such as they were, and had the hood on me, or whatever it was.”
    “Laundry bag. It’s in evidence. You’re thinking you should have been quicker, fought harder. Don’t.”
    “I didn’t get a single lick in. I realize, intellectually, that I was stunned, physically outmatched, and still…My weapon?”
    “It hasn’t been recovered.”
    The look between them held for a long moment. It was a hard blow when a cop was disarmed. It was a harder one when the cop was female.
    “No one’s going to blame you for that, Lieutenant. Not under these circumstances.”
    “Some will. You know it, I know it. He knows it. That’s why he took it.”
    “Some are idiots. Did you get an idea of height? Build?”
    “Not of height. He shoved me and I went down. But he was strong. He choked me at first…” Her fingers traced over the bruises on her throat, and she remembered the feel of those hands cutting off her air. “Choked me when I was down, put his hands around my throat and choked me. He had big hands. Big, strong hands. He wore gloves. I felt…I felt gloves—thin, probably latex—when he groped me. And a knife, maybe scissors, but I think a knife to cut through my clothes.”
    “He touched you.”
    “He…” Facts, Phoebe ordered herself. Think of them as facts. “He squeezed my breasts. He pulled my nipples, hard. He laughed. Just kind of a wheezing laugh, like he was real tickled and trying to hold it back. He pushed his hand—Shit. Oh shit.”
    Anticipating, Liz grabbed a bedpan, shoved it under Phoebe’s face. Held it steady while Phoebe was sick.
    Sheet white under the bruises, Phoebe leaned back. “God. God. Sorry.”
    “Just take a breath, take your time. Here.” Picking up the plastic cup and straw on the table, Liz offered it. “Drink some water.”
    “Okay. Thanks. I’m okay. He put his fingers inside me. Rammed them in. It wasn’t sexual. He just wanted to hurt me, humiliate me. Then, I think he leaned down because his voice was close to my ear. He whispered. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t fuck your kind.’ Then he hit me in the face. And he left me there.”
    “Do you have a gauge how long the attack went on?”
    “It seemed like forever, but probably two, maybe three minutes. No more than that. He had his plan in place, and he executed it efficiently. It probably took me longer to get the hood off and get down to the door. Altogether, it was probably six or seven minutes.”
    “Okay. Did he say anything else? Anything at all?”
    “No, he only spoke that one time.”
    “Did you notice anything else about him. A scent?”
    “No. Wait.” Phoebe closed her eyes again. “Baby powder. I smelled baby powder.”
    “How about his voice? Would you recognize it again?”
    “I don’t know. We’re trained to pay attention to details, but I was so scared, and the blood was pounding in my head, and the hood. He was local,” she said suddenly. “There was enough of an accent that he sounded like a local.”
    “Have you had trouble with anyone? Anyone you think would want to hurt you?”
    “You know I have. We may not work the same division, but we work in the same house. You know I have.”
    “Do you think it was him? You think it was Arnie Meeks who attacked you?”
    “Yes, I do. I can’t prove it, but yes, I