The Axe, page 4
“Was the cabin door locked?”
“No,” Eric said. “We left it unlocked when we went out earlier.”
The lawyer nodded at her to resume her tale.
“He threw me on the bed, and the other one, the blond guy—”
“He was a redhead,” Eric said.
“Maybe—I thought he was blond, but he was behind me most of the time.”
“Maybe the sun made it look red.” Eric was aware he was stalling and added, “I’m sorry—go ahead.”
“He hit me when I tried to get up. That was the only time I saw his face. He tied my hands to the headboard, and the other one, Blackie—that’s what the blond guy called him—he had my legs and he…” She bit her lip.
“You only have to say as much as you’re comfortable with,” Barnes told her.
“I’m not comfortable with anything right now,” she said. “Starting with breathing. But anyway, he took my jeans and sneakers off and…my underwear, and the other one—”
“Fraser McHenry,” Barnes offered. “You didn’t hear Andrews use his name?”
“No. Oh, he called him Mac once, but I didn’t think it was his name—you know, like hey, Mac? He forced me over on my stomach, and my arms were sort of twisted, and he…” She closed her eyes.
“He sexually assaulted you?”
“Yes.” She was silent, head down. When she spoke again, she used the same dreamy tone as when she had confessed to Eric earlier. “They were very polite—to each other. They took turns.”
It was more than he could stand. He rose and paced back and forth. He couldn’t imagine her having to do this in more detail in a courtroom.
“Do you want to leave the room?” the lawyer asked.
Eric deferred to Desi. “Do you want me to?”
She hesitated. “Not yet.”
Barnes waited until he was seated again. “We’ll get toxicology reports eventually, but did either of them seem drunk or high?”
“No—at least I didn’t smell alcohol. Blackie smelled—sweat and something else. The other one I didn’t notice.”
She paused again, and Barnes prompted, “They took turns?”
“Yes. Blackie had more turns, but the other one was much worse.” Her voice had gone oddly flat. “I asked him—begged him—to stop, and he told me to shut up. ‘Shut up, bitch. This is what you were made for.’”
A long, charged silence followed before she continued.
“After a while I sort of spaced out.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “It’s all kind of fuzzy. It was like I was outside myself, watching it happen to somebody else. It felt like that when I picked up the axe too.” She raised her left hand, fingers curled as if she held something.
“Okay, back up. You were tied to the bed. Were both men in the room the whole time?”
“I don’t know.”
“One of them had to leave to tie me up,” Eric said. “You said they were both present when he first carried you in?” He didn’t look directly at her and resisted the urge to touch her hand.
“Yes. I don’t know if they were both there all the time, but they did…watch. They…cheered each other on, like a football game. No, he—McHenry—wasn’t, because I didn’t see him one time when Blackie was—”
Eric, not sure he could bear to hear any more, theorized, “So, he left to tie me up and put me in the trunk, and that must be when he moved the pickup.”
“Strange behavior, in the middle of an assault,” Barnes mused, leaning back as he took the couple in. “It would have made more sense if one of them stayed behind and did it first. Are you sure they were both in the room at the beginning?”
“Yes.” Her voice was strong. “I’m absolutely sure. It’s not something I’m going to forget.”
“So, Andrews carried you in. And McHenry was right behind?”
“I don’t know where he was on the way in, but yes, he must have been behind. I know he tied me to the bed right away.” She ducked her head and plucked nervously at her sling.
“I suppose McHenry had the axe?”
She looked up. “I don’t know. I didn’t see it if he did.”
“Did the police find the pickup?” Eric asked. “It couldn’t have been far.”
Barnes glanced through his notes. “A green 1957 Dodge C Series is registered to Fraser McHenry. No, it hasn’t been found. Go ahead, Ms. Chauveau. When they were both in the room, where was the other one? Show me.”
She pointed to a spot near the window. “Mostly there, I think.”
“Okay.” Barnes made a note. “You were tied to the bed. How did you get loose?”
“I’m not sure. The rope was tight at first and rubbed my wrists, but after a while it was looser, and I got my left hand free.”
“Do you know when you sustained the fractures?”
“Oh—I guess he—McHenry—broke my cheekbone when he hit me in the face. It didn’t hurt right away, but when he shoved me against—” She covered her face with her left hand, hiding her pain from Eric and the lawyer.
“Take your time,” Barnes said.
He could afford to be patient, Eric thought. They were paying for his time. Eric wanted more than anything to put his arms around her and comfort her. He kept reminding himself, minute by minute, that he wasn’t allowed to touch her yet. He put his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together, and pressed them against his mouth.
Desi glanced at him and then continued. “It hurt so much,” she said. “Blackie put a pillow… I don’t know when my collarbone got broken—from my arms being twisted? I didn’t notice it until later. I untied my right hand, and my arm wouldn’t work right, not like it was broken, but it was kind of numb, and it hurt to move it.” She squeezed her upper arm, remembering. “I had to use my left hand when I picked up the axe.”
“What were the two men doing when you got loose?”
“I don’t know.”
“Were they in the room?”
“I don’t know. It felt like it, but I can’t remember seeing them right then. I was looking at the knot, and… No, they weren’t. They were in the front room.”
“They were done with you, at least for the moment, and they went in the front room. Were you afraid they would come back?”
“Yes. I could hear their voices, but not what they were saying.” The dreamy tone was back. “I wanted to climb out the window, but I couldn’t find my jeans, and I looked through the door to see if they were coming.”
“Were they?”
“No, they had their backs to me. One was looking out the window, I think.”
“Standing up? Not sitting or kneeling?”
“Standing up,” Desi said firmly.
“Did you maybe climb on something?” He pointed to the diagram. “Couch? Chair?”
“No, I don’t…no.”
Eric straightened up and put his hands on the table. The two men gazed at each other. It was hard to imagine Desi, at five-four, bringing an axe down on the heads of two tall men.
Barnes let it go. “Had either of them threatened you or said anything to make you fear for your life?”
“I don’t think so. But the whole situation did… And the axe… It was so sharp.” She glanced at Eric. “We heard them cutting wood when we came back from our hike, but the axe was like it had just been sharpened. So sharp.”
“Maybe when he left, he sharpened it,” Eric suggested. “Maybe he planned to kill us.”
“Are you sure it was the same axe?” Barnes asked.
She shrugged. “It was an axe. It was big.”
“Was there one in the cabin?”
“Yes,” Eric said. “Hanging by the fireplace. I never touched it, but it was used to chop kindling.”
“Had you handled it before that afternoon?” Barnes asked Desi.
“No.”
“Too bad. It would have been an alternate explanation for the fingerprints. Where was the axe when you first saw it in the cabin?”
“I don’t remember.”
“But you picked it up? You didn’t take it from the fireplace?”
“I remember picking it up.” Again she mimed lifting something in her left hand.
“With one hand? Are you sure you didn’t use both hands—maybe break your collarbone in the…process?” Barnes studied her intently.
“No, I had to use my left hand… Maybe steadied it with my right?” She demonstrated awkwardly. “I’m not sure.”
“Think carefully now.” Barnes leaned in. “This might be more important than you realize. Which one did you attack first?”
“Attack?” Desi repeated. “It didn’t feel like an attack. It was like the axe went in by itself. It was so easy. Like it wanted to do it.”
“Which one first? Do you remember?”
“The blond man. McHenry. He deserved it.” She glared at each of them defiantly. “The other one…”
“He was…considerate?” Barnes suggested. “For a rapist?”
“No, but…the lesser of two evils.”
“What did he do when you went after McHenry?”
“I don’t remember… I think he started to turn around.”
Barnes asked her to show where the two men had stood.
She indicated an area near the front window.
“What did you do with the axe? Do you remember?”
“I remember it was heavy. I think I dropped it.”
“Where?”
Desi pointed, and he made a small x on the diagram.
“Okay, this is what we have to start with. It will be tough because they were in another room and not coming toward you. Any time a nonviolent option exists—climbing out the window or hiding under the bed, say—it’s hard to push self-defense, but we have state of mind. You weren’t thinking clearly. You ‘spaced out’ because of what they did to you.”
“Can she plead guilty to manslaughter or something?” Eric asked.
“We’ll see what the prosecutor is amenable to. They know a jury may side with us if they put her through too much in court. A lot of factors will build sympathy—her youth, that she was with her fiancé, plus she’s gainfully employed—yes?” He looked to Eric for confirmation.
“She’s a paralegal.”
Barnes grimaced. “We’ll play that down. Lawyers aren’t too popular.”
“I was a waitress before,” Desi offered.
“Worked her way through college,” Eric said.
“That will work. The prosecutor will jump on anything that weakens your story, anything that suggests you could be lying or in some way culpable. Ever been arrested?” Barnes asked Desi directly.
“No. Not even a DUI.” She was calmer now that the questioning had moved on.
“Drink a lot?”
“Hardly at all.”
“Drugs?”
“Never.”
“You?” Barnes lifted his chin in Eric’s direction.
“No. Parking tickets is as bad as it gets for either of us. Not even moving violations.”
“That’s all good.” He made a note and then glanced up quickly, springing the next question on Desi. “How many men have you had sex with?”
“Whoa!” Eric pushed back in his chair, hands up.
“Sorry, but this is exactly what the prosecutor will do in court.”
“I had a boyfriend before Eric,” she answered. “Just the one. I was also raped when I was fifteen.”
Eric stared at her. “You never told me that.”
“When I told people, they looked at me…differently. I didn’t want you to. I tried to put it behind me.”
“Is that why you denied it this time?” he asked.
“Maybe. I’m sorry.”
“That’s why you said that thing? About…damaged goods? God, Desi, you were fifteen!”
Barnes was making notes while they talked. “Was it reported to the police?” he asked.
“No. Nobody believed me. It was a friend of the foster family I was living with. They believed him. He got away with it.”
“So,” Barnes said smoothly, “you made sure it wouldn’t happen this time?”
She shrugged. “It didn’t.”
Silence. The room suddenly felt smaller.
Eric finally spoke. “What happens next?”
The lawyer shuffled his papers. “They have to schedule a preliminary hearing within sixty days, unless we go to court and waive your right to it. We’ll see what the prosecutor has to offer.”
Before they left his office, he said, “A little personal advice—Until this is over, don’t break your engagement, even if it’s only pro forma. And don’t get married.”
“Why not?” Eric asked. His hand hovered protectively an inch from Desi’s back.
“If you break up, jurors will think she must be guilty. And if you get married—people watch TV and put too much importance on spousal privilege. They’ll think you got married so you wouldn’t have to give damning testimony against her.”
“Which wouldn’t apply if I did testify.”
“We won’t get married,” Desi said. She wouldn’t look at Eric.
They left, their steps echoing in the small office.
In the parking lot, he didn’t start the car right away. “I know it was hard, but you did great,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice tight. She must have been exhausted. Fragile.
“Do you want to go home now, or…?”
“Home.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m talked out.”
After a brief inner struggle, he said, “Maybe it would be better if you did crash with Cathleen for a few days.”
She was caught off guard and turned to face him. “Why?”
“It’s really hard for me not to touch you.”
“What—that turned you on?” Rage bubbled to the surface again.
“Desi! God! No! You are mad at me, aren’t you?”
“No…sorry.” She shook her head.
“I meant—to hold your hand, touch your arm, your hair, put my hand on your back. It’s so natural to me, so instinctive, to want to comfort you, to show my support, to express my feelings for you. I love you.”
“Sweet talk again,” she said, but with the hint of a smile.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’m glad you’re still in there.”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. “Am I?”
“Yep. Peeking out at me now and then.” His lips curved into a private smile, an unusual sensation of late. He took a breath. “That first time—”
“Oh, please. You want that story too?” She was more exasperated than angry.
“No, I just meant you got past it.”
“This is a lot worse.”
“I know…”
“No, you don’t!” She didn’t raise her voice, but her intensity was chilling.
“I’m sorry.” He quelled his instinct to give her a reassuring hug and added, “Let’s go home.”
She touched the bump on his head. He tried not to flinch. “I keep forgetting you got hurt too.” It sounded like an apology.
“Just my hard head,” he said. But the real pain lay deeper and couldn’t be soothed with aspirin.
When they got back to the apartment she called her friend Cathleen. Eric listened to Desi’s side of the conversation as he made a snack for them both. As it turned out, she couldn’t stay with Cathleen right now, because her sister and her new baby were visiting, but she promised to come by for a little while the next morning.
Desi napped for a long time before dinner and didn’t eat much, but she was calmer. Likely just as relieved to have the meeting with Barnes over with as he was. She wouldn’t let him help her undress, but she touched her lips briefly to his cheek as a goodnight kiss. He slept on the couch.
Chapter Six
In the morning, Cathleen helped Desi in and out of the bathtub and while she soaked, Cathleen sat on the toilet and talked to her. Eric figured their girl talk was meant to be private, so he stayed away and got some work done online in their little office space while he listened to music with headphones.
After Cathleen left, Desi came in and gestured for him to remove the headphones. “Hi,” he said, pulling them off as he turned to face her. “Feel better?” She looked better, and her hair was braided neatly. She wore a skirt, a blouse with buttons, pink lipstick, and her favorite subtle scent.
“Yes. Cathleen said we should go out and do something fun today, try to forget about everything. Do you want to, or do you have work to do?” Her expression was hopeful.
“Yes, but it will wait. You come first. In fact… I’m yours for the whole weekend, if you can manage on your own while I go into work for a while on Monday.”
“It’s a deal.”
“Where shall we go? Not out to breakfast, I guess.”
“Actually, I think I’d like to try that. A liquid diet gets really boring, and I think I could eat something besides oatmeal. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon… I’m hungry.”
“This is sounding better all the time.” He turned off his computer and got to his feet. “Shall we drive to the beach after breakfast?”
“I’d like that.” Her smile was warm, if a bit lopsided. Eric sternly repressed the desire to take her hand. It was painful to remember how often, how naturally, they had once touched each other.
Breakfast was not an unqualified success. The food was good, and she was able to eat small bites of scrambled eggs and hash browns, crumbly bits of bacon, and applesauce, but she was very slow, and eating with her left hand was awkward. Worse were the curious stares of strangers. Her face was still bruised and swollen, and Eric assumed they thought he had hit her. When the waitress seated a middle-aged couple two booths away, Desi started to get edgy and stopped eating.
Driving to the coast and along the beach was less complicated. It was overcast and a little chilly near the water, a gray day in keeping with their restrained mood. They stayed in the car most of the time and only got out to enjoy the view and take pictures where nobody else was around. At lunchtime they stopped at Mindy’s, a small, casual eatery where Desi couldn’t eat anything on the menu except soup—but Mindy’s served fantastic soup. Afterwards they bought ice cream from a stand on the beach, ate it in the car, and visited a few gift shops—usually one of her favorite activities.
