Page 31 of Good and Gone

“I think you're in love with her,” he says. “It’s the only reasonable explanation I can think of for why you let her get away.”

“It's not like that,” I say. The other thing about men like him, they’re paranoid as fuck.

“You were the only one she was talking to.” He looks down at his feet and then shakes his head. “And then, curiously, she got away.”

“She stabbed me.”

“I’ve always liked her,” he says. “So feisty.”

"Fuck you," I say, even though it could be dangerous speaking to him this way. He could easily take it as a sign of disrespect. That’s why I’m careful about my tone when I say it. Because another thing about men like him? They need to believe they’re playing the game with worthy opponents. Not smarter, mind you. But worthy. Otherwise they get bored. Then you die.

“Anyway, I'm not going to bring her back,” he says. “You're going to bring her back.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” I tell him. “The feds are all over her case.”

“I’m aware.”

I look over at him and stuff my hands in my pockets. “How can I possibly get close?” I ask. It’s a tried-and-true negotiation tactic. Askinghowquestions.How am I supposed to do that?

“You don't have a choice,” he says.

“What if I can’t pull it off?”

He turns and faces me, resting his hand on my shoulder. He gives it a good squeeze. “I think you know what.”

21

Hailey

My husband looks at me like I am a pariah. When exactly the accusations start flying, I can’t pinpoint. I suppose it starts out with the police being frustrated with me because I can’t really tell them anything. I’ve offered descriptions of the men who abducted me, but tall and large with dark features doesn’t exactly give them much to go on. When the sketches come back, even I’m not sure they’re really a match. But how can I explain this? How can I tell them I don’t remember? How can I explain what the drugs did to me?

The hospital runs a battery of tests. They’re trying to find what might be in my system, but if they find anything conclusive, they don’t tell me. The other thing that works against me where the authorities are concerned is that I’m hesitant to agree to the rape kit. Time is of the essence, they say, like I don’t know that.

I’m not exactly expecting a picnic, but my gut was right. The sexual assault evidence kit turns out to be a particularly invasive process. The exam itself takes three and a half hours. They pull pubic hair, examine my body with a fine-tooth comb, swab my genitalia, and perform an exam with a speculum. They use a colposcope, a specialized medical camera they insert to take pictures of genital injury.

I understand the purpose, but it feels like being assaulted all over again.

They say the evidence will be turned over to the FBI and entered into CODIS, a national FBI database that assists law enforcement in tracking serial offenders across the country.

Perhaps, the most surprising result to come of the examination is that my IUD is no longer in place. The doctor says it’s possible it has pushed through the uterine wall or that it has been expelled. When this occurred cannot be determined, but either way, the physician administers Plan B to prevent pregnancy. She tells me to follow up with my gynecologist once I am home, for further testing and a regular means of birth control if needed.

As far as the results of the examination, it will take a while for the forensics to come back from the lab, but the fact that I bathed in the pond prior to being examined is a problem. The doctor performing the exam tells me this is common, but unfortunately, it is likely to affect any evidence that may have been present.

After the exam, I lay in that hospital bed asking myself why. What was the point? Why did this happen to me? I lie there, and I try to rest, but I don’t sleep. I can’t sleep. My head is pounding like someone is using a jackhammer to break through the concrete of my thoughts, and searing flashes of the morning of my abduction still vividly play through my mind. I am desperate for answers. I am desperate for the police to find those men, but I realize that even if they do, it won’t change anything. It won’t solve anything. It won’t bring me peace. It won’t help me sleep at night. It won’t calm my nerves or fill the gaping hole inside of me that feels like someone has reached inside of my chest and ripped my heart out.

But maybe it will save someone else. That’s why I went through with the rape kit. Maybe it will save one of those other girls, those women without faces I sometimes heard whimpering through the walls. I lay there staring at the ceiling, and mostly I think about them. About how I should have tried harder to save them.Why didn’t I try?

The other thing the investigators are frustrated about is that I can't even recall how I got to that park. I have no idea which roads I took, or how to determine on a map approximately where the house they were keeping us in might have been. It was dark, and I just ran. I wasn’t focused on the scenery or street names or directions like north and south. I just didn’t want to die. That's all the information I can offer. The detectives bring in a laptop. We go over maps. Lots of maps and lots of photos. I remember the porch I hid under, and that’s about all. I point out where I think it was on the map. They look at me with pity, but sometimes I'm not sure they believe what I'm saying and I wonder if I should lie. Maybe something would be better than nothing.

Tyler says I’m reading too much into it. He seems to think the investigation is headed in the right direction. He says not to overthink it. The descriptions I provided helped with sketches. Their faces are out there. It won’t be long before they are found.

A nurse comes in and I look up. She can’t get my IV to stop beeping. Eventually, she calls for assistance. I pretend I’m sleeping, the same as I always do when medical personnel come in. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the way they look at me. “It doesn't add up,” the nurse says to the other as they fumble with the machine. “It doesn't pass the smell test, if you know what I mean…”

“I guess you saw what they’re saying online…”

“No? What? I mean, they’re saying a lot of things. Her picture is everywhere…”

“Some people are saying she had it coming. Running in the middle of the night and all.”

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