“Monday night, singing in front of a crap crowd—but a crowd at Last Call—from nine to one. I’d have gotten there by eight-thirty, left by one-thirty. I went home—alone—went to bed. That’s the same last night. Tuesday, I served fancy drinks and fancy snacks to the fancy customers of Bistro East. Eight to two—that’s closing. Today, I’ve got an audition to sing in another craphole, but it’s closer to my apartment. You want the rest of my schedule? It runs pretty much the same, seven fricking nights a week.”
“That’s a hard workload,” Peabody commented. “Do you still go to the group?”
“Twice a month. I leave there and go to work. Not a lot of time in there to kill rapists, cheaters, and wife beaters. More, I don’t care about rapists, cheaters, and wife beaters.”
“Somebody did.” Eve opened the file, went hard. “Somebody cared enough to do this.”
Under that gorgeous skin, Jacie paled as Eve laid out the crime scene photos. “Cared enough to torture three human beings, whatever their crimes and sins, for hours. To mutilate them, to kill them. What was the crime against you, Jacie, what was the sin? Is this how you want the man who hurt you to end? Do you want to share responsibility for that?”
“Please put those away. Please, can I have some water?” She nudged aside her fizzy. “Just some water.”
“Sure. I’ll get it.”
“Get me a Pepsi, will you?” Eve asked as Peabody rose. She put the photos back into the file. “Give me his name. Start there. The name of the man.”
“I don’t like to talk about it. I started going to WFW last fall, months after it happened. I didn’t think I could talk about it, but … Natalia—I guess you’ve talked to Natalia—she’s so calming, so … it’s a fancy word but it fits, so empathetic. And the other women, it’s like having sisters there for you, mothers, friends. It’s helped me so much. I can’t believe anyone in the group did what you’re saying. Did what’s in that file. I can’t.”
“Give me his name. Start there, Jacie, because it’s not going to help you if he ends up in this file. It’s not going to help you if he’s dead.”
“Cooke, Ryder Cooke. At about ten o’clock on August eighth of last year, he raped me, and he ruined my life.”
17
As Peabody came back in, Eve considered the best approach.
“Jacie, we can ask you questions, or if it’s easier, you can just tell us what happened.”
“Nothing’s easier.” Jacie took slow, small sips of water. “I wanted to put it behind me, but he made sure I couldn’t. I have to face it every damn day.”
Peabody started to speak, but Eve shook her head.
They waited.
“I’m a singer. I have a voice, a good voice, and I was willing to do the work, make the effort to improve. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to sing. I didn’t have to be a star, you know? Just sing, make my living, use my gift. I was doing okay, then I got it into my head to come to New York, to push myself. I got some good gigs, too, some really solid gigs. Good reviews, some attention. And a shot at a recording contract. It was like a dream, more than I’d let myself want, but here it was.”
She took another sip, set the water aside.
“A scout from Delray heard me, told me to send an audition disc. I spent a good chunk of my savings booking a studio, good musicians. If I had a shot, I was going to do it right. And it worked, or I thought it did.
“Ryder Cooke is Delray. He’s the star-maker. So when Ryder Cooke asks you to his place to discuss your future, to talk about a contract, you go. I went. We had drinks. I was not drunk,” she added with considerable passion. Her eyes went very bright, not with tears, not now, but with that passion, and with memory.
“I’m not stupid enough to get drunk at the most important meeting of my life. But I had some wine. We talked, and he painted this picture of what I could have, what I could be that meant everything. Then he said there was something I needed to see upstairs.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Was it stupid? I still don’t know. He never made a move, never said anything that made me uncomfortable, so I went. I didn’t even get a bad feeling when I went into the bedro
om with him. Then he grabbed me. He’s a pretty big guy, and I wasn’t expecting … Doesn’t matter. He had me pinned to the bed. I’m telling him no, get off. He says just lie back and enjoy it, baby. Just like that. Lie back and enjoy it, baby.”
She had to suck in air. Let it out again.
“I tried to get him off, to get out, but he was stronger, and he just … After, when I’m crying, and he still has me pinned, he tells me to deal with it. This is how it works. Be a good girl and he’ll sign me, he’ll make me. Tell anybody, make a stink about it, I’ll be finished. Nobody’ll believe me, and I’ll be lucky to earn the price of a sandwich singing on street corners.
“When he rolled off, I ran out. He hadn’t even bothered to pull my clothes off, just my panties, right? I ran out. I don’t know why I didn’t go to the cops.”
Tears spilled now, and she swiped at them with fingertips, impatient. “I was ashamed and shocked and afraid. I did everything wrong that night, okay? I admit I did everything wrong.”
She had to pause another moment, sip more water.
Eve waited her out, signaled Peabody to do the same.