Anya was greeted by a nurse who quickly ushered her down the corridor, past the gym, toward the consulting room. Doctor Temple stood outside, in jeans and a striped shirt, hand on his chin.
Hayden nodded at her. “Thanks for coming so quickly. We have a female inmate-”
“Inpatient,” the psychiatrist corrected. “This is a medical facility.”
“She says she woke up and found a man on top of her. She screamed, but he covered her mouth until he’d finished having nonconsensual intercourse with her, then ran off.”
This wasn’t Anya’s first call-out to a hospital or clinic. She’d attended sexual assault victims at elderly nursing homes and facilities for the severely intellectually and physically disabled. This was her third psych clinic. In previous cases, members of staff routinely preyed on society’s most vulnerable.
“What’s her medical condition like?”
“She’s stable and as far as I can tell there are no signs of her having been assaulted.”
Anya tried to remain calm. If the psychiatrist had already examined her genitally, without collecting forensic specimens, he may have ruined any chance of her collecting physical evidence, and traumatized the patient further, making all of their jobs far more difficult.
“As you know, Doctor Temple, in sexual assaults there is often no physical sign of injury.” Hayden put his head down. He looked as frustrated as she felt right now. “What’s her background and mental state?”
“Schizophrenia since the age of eighteen, with severe psychotic episodes. She’s had numerous admissions for violent behavior associated with treatment cessation and substance abuse. Her parents admitted her when the police picked her up for urinating in public. Prior to this episode, she’d held down a clerical job for three months. She is, however, something of a fabulist, which is why I have to question whether or not she really was assaulted. She is delusional. This isn’t the first time she’s reported something like this.”
Anya put down her bag. A woman suffering delusions would never have her claims taken seriously, so was the perfect victim for a sexual predator. It’s possible she had been sexually abused before, rather than just imagined it.
“What about cameras?”
“Privacy prevents us from having cameras in the rooms or private areas. This corridor isn’t monitored either.” Doctor Temple was pleading for something from Hayden and Anya. “Our patients are voluntary and we’ve never had anything like this happen before. There hasn’t been any need for cameras except in the gardens and entry foyer.”
“In other words, something like this getting out could ruin this place’s reputation,” Hayden said. “And you’re telling us the woman is unreliable as a witness.”
“That’s correct.” Temple seemed to relax.
“If you don’t mind, we have our jobs to do. I need to speak to whoever was on duty this afternoon and get the names of any visitors, delivery staff or kitchen hands, and I’ll need to talk to the other patients.”
The psychiatrist stiffened again. “I’m afraid that is fraught with confidentiality issues.”
“Rest assured, Doctor,” said Hayden, “I won’t be telling anyone unless we find out one of your patients committed rape under your watch. No amount of privacy can stop me charging whoever did this.”
“Where was Gary Harbourn when this occurred?” Anya wanted to know. With his history of sexual assault, he had to be the prime suspect.
With a diagnosis of diminished responsibility, he could use it as an excuse for raping other patients. Even better for him if the police doubted the victims’ stories. It was the perfect set-up for his sick, violent attacks.
Temple’s color faded. “There is a police guard at each end of the ward, but he’s free to come and go within those parameters.”
“Do the other voluntary patients know they’re in with a gang rapist and murderer? What would that do for your reputation?” Hayden hitched up his trousers. “Now, where can Doctor Crichton examine this patient, whose name, by the way, Anya, is Lydia Winter.”
Lydia twisted a handtowel around her wrist and crushed it between her fingers. The nurse helped her into a backless gown; her ribs protruded beneath stretched skin.
Anya explained who she was and what she was here for, but Lydia barely acknowledged her presence. “We don’t say much, do we, Lydia,” said the nurse as she tied the gown at the back. “This is a lovely doctor, who wants to make sure you’re all right.”
Lydia clung tightly to the handtowel.
Anya asked the nurse to collect the panties Lydia had been wearing, along with the sheets from her bed, and placed them in paper bags from her kit.
“Lydia, can you tell me what happened to you this afternoon, after you fell asleep?”
“I had a bad dream. I couldn’t breathe and was being crushed. Then I opened my eyes and he was on top of me, hurting me. I tried to tell him to stop, to call for help, but his hand was over my mouth.” She twisted the towel even tighter, blanching her knuckles.
“Did you see who this man was?”
Lydia shook her head. “I could smell his sweat but couldn’t see his face. It all happened so fast.”
“It’s okay, you’re doing really well, Lydia.” Anya felt for this woman who appeared so fragile, physically and emotionally. “Are you in any pain, does it hurt anywhere?”
“Down below,” she said. “Doctor Temple says there’s nothing there, but it’s sore.”
“Would you mind if I had a very gentle look? The nurse might even hold a light for me.”
Lydia pleaded, “Please don’t hurt me any more.”
“I won’t,” Anya promised, and began the examination.
An hour later Anya emerged from the room. Lydia had gone to sleep on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, still clutching the towel. The nurse stayed with her.
Hayden had spoken to the staff members and some patients and now waited in the next room, while Doctor Temple had gone to notify Lydia’s parents.
“What do you think?” the detective asked after closing the door behind her.
“It looks like intercourse probably took place. There’s a superficial abrasion on the vulva, but my guess is he used a condom. Like lots of young women, she’s had her pubic hair removed-waxed-recently, but there weren’t any odd hairs to sample.” She sat, elbow on the desk, propping up her temple. “With the amount of medication she’s on, sedation included, it’s going to be difficult to verify anything.”
Hayden rubbed his forehead. “It’s not the usual level of violence, but Gary Harbourn has to be our prime suspect. If we can get him to admit that he had sex with her, can’t you say that she was too doped up to have given consent? Therefore it can’t have been consensual.”
“Good try. He’s supposedly on medication and sedation, too, remember? His judgment could be said to be impaired.”
A knock on the door interrupted them. Dan Brody stood in the doorway.
“Temple told me where to find you. Just got your message.”
“What are you doing here?” Anya was confused. She hadn’t even known about the clinic call when she left her message for Dan.
“That’s what I was going to tell you,” Hayden mumbled.
“Judge Pascoe personally ‘requested’ I take on a pro bono client who apparently sacked his lawyer. I didn’t really have a choice,” Dan said, “given his friendship with my senior partner.”
Anya wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but pulled him aside for a quick word. “I got a call today from Jeff Sales at the morgue. You still haven’t buried the baby.”
“My father wanted to wait until the brain had been fully studied, which they tell me takes weeks. He won’t cremate her without all the body parts.”
“Fair enough, but they do have a diagnosis. The retro-orbital tumor was a retinoblastoma. By the size and extent of it, the baby had no real chance of survival. I’m going to visit your father to tell him, I promised I would.”
“He’d like that. Maybe I can come along. Your son isn’t in town, is he?”
Anya smiled. “No, and I promise not to vomit as well. What’s your client being charged with?”
“I gather you already know him. It’s Gary Harbourn.”