Lover Beware

wall, her hands flying up to clutch at the nonexistent fingers around her throat.
    Then they were gone as fast as they had come, leaving her slumped against the hard bricks, gasping for air while reality rushed back on her with a force that bludgeoned as hard as the visions had.
    The squawk of radios and the siren of the arriving EMT filled up the night.
    “D929 to 951. Suspect last seen at Desire and Chartres Street, fleeing southeast along the Pauline Street Wharf,” an officer said into his radio. “Hispanic. Wearing jeans and baggy white T-shirt. Suspect is armed with a knife.”
    “K,” Dispatch responded. “All cars in Sector D respond to 929.”
     
    ANNA STOOD AT Rosalyn Barker’s side as the ER doctors and nurses spoke softly and comfortingly to the dazed young woman. They had ministered her wounds easily enough. Lacerations on her face from the beating. The knife injury to her throat had done little more than draw blood.
    Collecting evidence from a rape victim’s body was tedious and time consuming, and too often added to the woman’s sense of violation. Her feet in stirrups and her knees forced open, Rosalyn did her best to check her anger and keep her gaze fixed on the ceiling the entire time.
    Outside the curtained-off cubicle, the buzz of conversation droned on. Occasionally, Anna caught Detective Armstrong’s voice fending off reporters’ questions with, “No comment at this time.” Donovan sat in a corner chair in the cubicle, scrawling out notes dictated by the attending doctor, sealing each vial container, and writing his initials on them.
    “Who are you?” Rosalyn finally asked in a weak voice.
    Anna moved closer to the bed and smiled. “My name is Anna. I’m with the FBI.”
    “You don’t look like a fed.”
    “Is that a compliment?”
    Her swollen lips turned up. “Yeah.”
    “Bitch of a way to spend your evening, huh? Are you up to answering a few questions, Rosalyn?”
    Her battered eyelids drifted closed, then she nodded.
    “Will you describe this man to me again?”
    “I already done that.”
    “Once more. For me this time.”
    She swallowed. “Mexican. Just as tall as me.”
    “And you are…?”
    “Five six.”
    Anna scribbled the information down on paper as Rosalyn continued.
    “Stocky. Really strong. Long shaggy black hair.”
    “Any distinguishing marks on his body?”
    Nodding. “Tattoos. Everywhere. On his neck, his arms, covering his hands. He was…creepy. Really creepy.” She winced and lifted her head, glared at the doctor who was swabbing her vagina for evidence. “Dickhead, that hurts.”
    He glanced up at her. “Sorry.”
    Her head dropped back to the pillow. “The dude stank bad. Like rotten fish. Said he wanted a blow job. I told him no way. To fuck off. Looked and smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a year. I ain’t that hungry, know what I mean?”
    “Did he attack you at that point?”
    “He left.” She touched her neck. “Then he come up behind me. From the alley, I guess. Put his hand over my mouth and stuck the knife to my throat. Dragged me into the alley and started beating me. Kept saying he was going to cut off my head.”
    “Think carefully. The knife. What did it look like? Was it a big knife? A small one?”
    She frowned and remained silent a moment. “Sorta big.”
    “Like a butcher knife?”
    “Not that big.”
    “Maybe like a steak knife?”
    “Maybe.”
    “A switchblade? Pocketknife?”
    “No. Bigger.”
    “Did you notice if he was carrying anything on his back?”
    “Nothin’ on his back.”
    “Okay.” Anna nodded. “Had you seen this man before, Rosalyn?”
    “No. Would have remembered him.”
    Anna closed the notebook and slid it into her jeans pocket. Having completed his task, the doctor left the cubicle, and Donovan stood to follow him out. Anna grabbed Donovan’s arm. “I’d like a couple minutes alone with Ms. Barker.”
    He nodded and left.
    Anna moved to the bed. “Ms. Barker, I know it’s difficult, but I want you to try to relax for me. I want you to look straight into my eyes and say nothing. Just look at me. Will you do that?”
    She nodded.
    Anna took a deep breath, and wrapped her fingers around Rosalyn’s hand.
     
    ANNA LOOKED OVER Donovan’s shoulder as computer images of possible suspects flashed one after another across the monitor screen. She’d said very little since leaving the victim. As usual, the flashes of insight that Anna had experienced through Rosalyn’s touch had