“All the details—I’ll give you all I have. The timing, the where and when, but I’d like to just give you the broad points now.”
“Go ahead.”
“Elsi was so young, and her wounds, we’ll say, fresher and more intense. Maybe they’d mixed the dose. Maybe they’d experimented. I can’t say. But she would have those flashes, and find herself waking up with a stranger. She’d have nightmares so violent she’d harm herself during them. She . . . she began cutting herself.”
Blake paused for more water. “It had just happened, only the previous spring, so she saw the faces clearly—as they were now.”
“And you had Charity to draw them.”
“Yes. Edward Mira, I recognized him, and that led to the others. It led, as we’d already believed, to Yale. Only Charity hadn’t attended the university, but she’d been seeing a Yale man on and off, and sometimes attended parties or events. Lectures. On one of her visits, she found herself wandering the campus before dawn, with no memory of what had happened. At first she believed she’d had too much to drink and had blacked out, or possibly been roofied and raped. But she couldn’t remember. None of us remembered it all, until all of us did.”
“So you planned the murders.”
“Not at first. We’d meet—at the house where you found us because it became ours. A safe place, so in a way, it was a crisis center. We talked about how we could prove it, if we’d be believed if we went to the police.
“Could I have some more water?”
Peabody rose, went out to get it.
“We were five women who’d been ripped to pieces. We wanted to find proof. We needed to find justice.”
“It’s the job of the police to find proof. It’s the courts who determine justice.”
“We needed to do something after Elsi . . . I’ve left that out. It’s painful.”
She stopped again when Peabody returned with more water.
“Thank you. I researched the laws. I’d been a corporate lawyer, but I gave myself lessons in criminal law. And for all but Elsi and Charity, the statute of limitations had passed. We’d never reported a crime, as we hadn’t known we’d been victims of a crime—until it was too late for justice. For Charity, the window was closing.”
She pressed her lips together. “I can see, and I should have seen then, we put too much weight on Elsi. She and Charity were the only ones who could file charges. We would all add our own stories, and surely that would prove they’d done this, and done it, and done it. There wouldn’t just be the five of us. There would be more women, and more women would remember when it came out, but . . .”
“Elsi couldn’t handle it.”
“She was so fragile, and she broke.” Tears welled up now, spilled out. “She simply shattered, and we’ll live with that guilt. They raped her, they ruined her, but we broke her trying to put all of us back together again. And then, yes then, we began to plan how to get justice for her, for all of us. At first, we told ourselves we would find proof. But we didn’t. Carlee and Charity sacrificed more than I can tell you, and we didn’t find proof.”
“You had Carlee sleep with Edward Mira.”
“She was strong, she was willing. We’d hoped she might find something to implicate him, more victims, victims who had been more recent like our Elsi. But he was careful there. And then Charity took her place. Carlee couldn’t face any more, so Charity stepped in. But we found nothing. Then, yes, we began to plan how to get justice. For Elsi. For all of us.”
Blake set the water down, wiped the tears away. “I posed as a Realtor, and made the appointment to meet him at the house he wanted to sell. Charity came in with me. We stunned him, we hurt him. We wanted him to know who we were, and what was coming. Then the other man came. We had a moment of panic, but we knocked him out. I knocked him out. He wasn’t one of them, and we had no desire or reason to harm him. We forced Edward into Lydia’s van, and brought him to the basement.”
“One you’d set up to replicate where you’d been raped.”
“Yes. What we did was against the law—we’ll pay the price. God knows we’ve already paid worse. But what we did was earned, it was right, because the law protected them.”
“You’re wrong. You don’t get to torture and execute. You don’t get to decide what payment is made. And the law wouldn’t have protected them.”
“The statute of limitations.”
“They formed a conspiracy—and that changes things, Counselor. You should’ve stuck with corporate. A conspiracy to drug and incapacitate, to kidnap, to hold individuals against their will, to rape and cause bodily, mental, and emotional harm to same. I would have put every one of them away, if you’d given me the chance—the way I’m going to put Marshall Easterday and Ethan MacNamee away.”
“They’re wealthy, powerful men, and the law is slippery, full of loopholes. They would have—”
“Look at me!” Eve slapped a fist on the table. “I would have put them away, and they’d have paid for years. Think about that. They’d have paid for years, not for one night. You decided to be judge, jury, and hangman. So now you’ll pay, too. I would have stood for you, the law would have stood for you. Now I have to stand for the men who raped you. I have to stand for the men you killed.”
“We couldn’t take it anymore.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “We couldn’t bear it, not after Elsi. They’re monsters. Monsters. Imagine a monster forcing his way into you. Imagine revisiting that horror night after night in your dreams. We couldn’t take it anymore.”
She wiped at her wet cheeks. “Each one of us will tell you the same. But they’ll speak to you with counsel present. That’s all I have to say until I, too, have counsel present.”