Page 108 of It's One of Us

“Yes. She’s an obsession for him. He thinks he’s in love with her.”

Oh, boy.

“All right. Let’s go back to the day you were kidnapped. Do you remember how he got you into the van?”

“It was parked next to my car in the parking lot of the gym. I always park on the far side of the lot so I can get in a few more steps. Under a light, and the neighborhood is so safe, there’s never been anything other than a purse or laptop stolen from an unlocked car. I was putting my gym bag in the trunk and felt arms around me. He slapped a piece of duct tape over my mouth and wrestled me into the van. I fought, I kicked and tried to scream, but it happened so fast. A blitz attack.” She sounds almost apologetic, like it was somehow her own fault for being attacked.

“Hey, he caught you off guard. It happens.”

“Apparently,” she says, drily, and Joey is again impressed at her fortitude. “He bashed me on the head, and when I woke up, we were driving, so I don’t know how long I was out, but when I came to, I started counting. As best as I could tell, I was awake for at least thirty minutes before he got off the highway. And screaming as much as I could—I was hoping maybe someone in another car could hear me. That got him riled up, and he threatened me, threatened Cici, too. That’s something I should have mentioned. He knew me. He knew my name, he knew my wife’s name, he knew which gym I worked out at. I wasn’t a convenient opportunity. He targeted me.”

Joey knows this, though she takes notes as if it’s news. He had a whole list of women, with all the private details they thought safe to share. Their hearts, their lives. All for a lurking stranger to acquire through the guise of friendship.

“Do you know why? Did he tell you?”

“He thought I was friends with Olivia. He said Beverly was, and he wanted me to tell him all I could about her.”

“Are you friends with Olivia Bender?”

“No. I mean, I know who she is. She’s done design work for people I know. But I wasn’t about to tell him that. I made up a few stories and stuck to them.”

Joey is impressed and says it. “You kept yourself alive sticking to that lie.”

“Probably.”

“Did he blindfold you at any time?”

“No. Which is what scared me most of all. He was planning to kill me, so he didn’t bother hiding who he was. He kept my mouth gagged, and my hands restrained, drugged me enough to keep me low-key during the day, and at night...no, he didn’t hide who he was.”

“And when you got off the highway?”

“Another thirty minutes going slower, and then another ten over rutted, bumpy roads. He apologized for the rough ride. Can you imagine?” Jillian laughs. She actually laughs.

The combination of sedative, natural strength, an ebullient personality, and the adrenaline pump of rescue from a certain death is going to Jillian’s head. She’ll come down when her wife shows up, Joey knows. Break apart. When the depth of what could have been lost hits them. In the meantime, Joey needs to keep her talking.

“And he didn’t touch you, all this time?”

Jillian’s eyes cut away; her voice is low. “If he did, it was while I was drugged and asleep. I don’t have any memory of it. I’m not damaged. He was careful.”

Joey nodded. “Okay. Your memory may change as you come off the drugs. It may not.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” she says, shuddering a bit.

“We can run tests, see if there’s any semen or spermicide.”

“The doc already took samples, testing for STDs, but I really don’t know if he did anything. Not really. And with the baths—he let me take baths. The water was cold, but at least I was clean.”

“Interesting.”

“The doctor suggested Plan B.”

“Do you not want to take it?”

Jillian shrugs uncomfortably. “I need to talk to Cici first. I was gone a while.”

“If he raped you—”

“You don’t understand what it’s like. Building a family the way we have. It wasn’t easy. I have PCOS—polycystic ovarian syndrome. Bad. I miscarried a couple of times.” She searches Joey’s face. “I’m going to take it, I think. But I have to work it out in my head, and with Cici. If he did, and if I am...it’s just not as cut-and-dried as if he pulled me into an alley and forced me.”