Victim 18 post 10

CHAPTER 3
REALITY CHECK


“Wren. Wren, you need to wake-up.”

Wren stretches, yawns then looks around outside the truck then over at Norman.

“Have I been asleep all this time? Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

“I thought you needed the sleep after the night you had and it didn’t feel right to wake you.”

“But it wasn’t fair to you to have to drive all the way back with no one to keep you company.”

“Don’t worry about it. If I had needed company I could have woken you up at any time. Are you hungry?”

“I feel absolutely famished. Tell you what, we’re close to my place, why don’t we go there and I’ll fix you some dinner.”

“I really don’t want to impose on you. We could just go get something somewhere.”

“No you’ve done enough for me today, the least I can do is make you dinner. And maybe it’ll help get my mind off everything if I just jump back into life like it didn’t happen.”

“Alright, I won't argue. Besides one of your home cooked meals sounds pretty good right about now.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to make yet.”

“Doesn’t matter if your cooking is always delicious.”

When they get to Wren’s apartment they find the door to the apartment is partially open. Upon pushing it open the rest of the way they discover everything is gone. All the furniture from every room, the pictures from the walls, her clothes, the food from the refrigerator, even her cosmetics and toilet paper. Everything is gone. At one time she feels two separate emotions, one like she has moved out and was just looking around to make sure she hadn’t missed anything and the other is the sense of being violated all over again after finding the only thing that was left behind is a message in lipstick on the mirror.

“You should be dead. But don’t worry you soon will be.”

They call the police and wait in Norman's truck for the patrolman to arrive.

“Why, why is this happening to me? Everything I’ve worked so hard for all gone. First they take my dignity, then my virginity, and now this. Why, what did I do to them?”

“We may never know the answers to those questions. You have insurance and things can be replaced. As to your dignity the only ones who really know what happened and the only people who need to know are us. And have you really lost everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“You still have your life and I’m still here aren’t I?”
“I guess you're right again.”

A police cruiser pulls up alongside them. The tall dark skinned patrolman picks up a few things from the seat beside him and steps out of the car. Wren and Norman get out and approach him as he nears Norman’s truck.

“Excuse me officer, are you here for the burglary?”

“Yes, would you happen to be Miss Robbins?”

“Yes sir I am.”

“Would you mind showing me your apartment?”

“When we got here the door was ajar and we pushed it open and found, well, nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“When you step inside you’ll see what I mean.”

They all step inside and the strangeness of the scene still shocks Wren to see it. The feeling of violation is the main feeling this time causing her anger and frustration as she looks around the empty rooms explaining to the patrolman what all had transpired over the last twenty-four hours.

“We were told at our pre-patrol briefing that someone had managed to escape from the rape gang but I never would have dreamed I would meet you. I’m not sure what to say but congratulations on escaping.”

“Thank-you. But what about my apartment?”

“Unfortunately this is pretty standard procedure for this group. Every victim’s house has been done the exact same way. Typically there is no trace left behind every item in the house is taken and all of the surfaces washed down so there are no fingerprints to find. Maybe with your escape they’ll have been in too much of a hurry and missed something. If we have any further questions will there be a number we can reach you at?”

Norman pulls out another card and hands it to the officer.

“I think this would be the best number to try and then I can find her if need be.”

“I’d like to wish you two a nice evening and I’ll get in touch with you if I have any questions. I’ll give you my card with the report number on it so you can give it to your insurance company for your claim.

Wren and Norman return to his truck and pull out of the apartment’s parking lot. Norman takes them back out onto the highway occasionally taking a side street or two until he is quite certain there is no one following them.

“How does Mexican sound for dinner?”

“That’s fine Norman.”

“I won’t lie and say I know what you must be going through. But I can say I’ve seen a lot of men lose everything in a divorce. I guess it’s kind of the same. But I still don’t know what to say.”

“Nor do I. All I can say in response to your analogy is that at least you can take the ex-wife to court and try to get his stuff back. I on the other hand in the last day have been drugged, hauled two hours away in my own car trunk, drugged some more, forced to strip naked, humiliated, raped, and left to die in the cold. Who do I sue to get all of that back?”

“No one. All you can do is pick up what’s left and go on with your life.”

They do not speak any more for some time. Norman pulls off of South Lindbergh and into the lot of Casa Gallardo. As usual on a Saturday night the line is long with teenagers and young lovers out for the evening. They put their name on the list and wait in a corner for a table. They sit in silence holding hands Wren leaning her head against his shoulder. He can feel her warm tears soaking through his shirt as she finally starts crying. He pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to her for her tears. Still she keeps crying, his heart breaking more with each passing minute. He feels lost and beside himself not being able to completely understand what she is going through. He wants to help her to just take it all away but he doesn't know how. Wren quickly recomposes herself when their name is called though. Only her reddened eyes and slightly runny nose really give away that she has been crying.

“Can I get you anything to drink while you look at the menu?”

“I’ll have a Piná colada.”

“And for you sir?”

“Just a Coke.”

The waitress leaves and they look over the menu silently for some time before she returns with their drinks.

“Have you both decided?”
“I’ll have the beef and pork chimichanga.”

“And you sir?”

“I’ll have the enchilada platter.”

“So what will you need to spend the night?”

“Excuse me Norman, I wasn't paying attention.”

“I asked what you need to spend the night at my place.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Then where do you plan to stay tonight?”

“My house.”

“But there’s nothing there and if they cleaned it out don’t you think they’ll come back for you?”

“No, not my apartment. My house, well Grandma’s old house actually. Although I really hadn’t planned on moving in so soon. But, I doubt they know about it and that makes it the safest place I can think of.”

“Then I’ll stop on the way and pick up a couple of things. Then we’ll spend the night there.”

“We’ll spend the night? I’ll be fine. You have done so much for me already, you don’t have to do anything else.”

“I’ll feel much better knowing you're safe.”

“I only have one bed left in the house and you know my feelings about sleeping together.”

“Just because you sleep in the same bed it does not mean you have to have sex. Besides until your test results come back it may not be safe for either of us to do anything like that. And as I have said I would feel much better if I knew you were safe.”

“Well I don’t think it’s a good idea but if it will keep you from worrying I’ll give in to your request.”

“So we stop and pick up a few things and some pajamas and head for your house.”

“Oh yes I think some pink satin pajamas with black lace trim would suit you just fine.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of plain cotton or flannel.”

With a giggle to her voice “No I really think pink with black lace trim would suit you better, maybe kind of low cut to highlight your chest.”

Their dinner arrives and they seem to focus only on eating, only Wren breaks the silence with her small mischievous giggles from time to time. After dinner they head toward Arnold down interstate fifty-five. They stop and pick up the few things that Norman needs and start toward Fenton.

“The turn is right there at the pool isn’t it?”

“No two turns after it.”

They turn onto Forest lane and follow its twists and turns back to the end where it becomes the driveway to Wren’s house. Norman pulls up in front of the garage and Wren gets out of the truck.

She walks up to the door frame of the garage and opens a small door then punches in her key code. The big old garage door rolls up and opens with its usual squeaks and pops. Norman very slowly pulls the bright yellow Chevy into the garage and Wren hits the button to close the door.

He steps out of his truck and looks around. The last time he had seen the inside of this garage it barely had room for the old Grand Marquis that was in it. Now, it is almost empty. A workbench runs across its back with the gleaming chrome of tools hanging from a pegboard over it. Where a second car would now fit sits Wren’s Kawasaki Ninja ZX-10R racing bike, its titanium and gray finish gleaming in the light from the garage door opener completely clean and polished as fit Wren’s nature.

“What do you think?”

“A lot cleaner than the last time, and I see you added a workbench.”

“Nah, Great Granddad added that years before my Grandpa was even thought of. Just the collection of stuff and other personal treasures piled up over the years concealed it. Would you believe I actually found a surfboard hanging on the wall behind that massive pile on the other side.”

“Why would anyone want a surfboard in St. Louis?”

“That’s pretty much what I thought when I found it. I knew there was a workbench in the back but I was surprised to find all the tools. And it’s nice to have somewhere to keep my bike inside out of the weather.”



Wren opens the door into the main house and they step in. The house is not in the disarray it had been over the last few years of Grandma O’Malley’s life, it is clean and uncluttered with a fresh coat of paint on the walls and wood work. But with the scent of fresh fudge still hanging in the air though as they pass through the kitchen.