A String of Beads (Jane Whitefield, #8)(101)

“I’m afraid so, ma’am,” said Herrera. “Our agency was contacted because GHB is an illegal substance. In this case it entered the country from Mexico.”

“But the man. Who?”

“A suspect has been arrested. His name is Daniel Crane, and he had been dating your daughter recently.”

“That can’t be. She just saw her boyfriend killed. She’s been in a state of mourning. She wasn’t ready to date anybody yet.”

McNally spoke. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We understand your surprise, and the precise nature of the relationship will be a matter for the court, no doubt. Our specific task concerns the possession and use of illegal substances. In this case, the drug was GHB, which has a very strong but transitory effect on the victim. By the time she was tested at the hospital, the GHB had been metabolized and the tests weren’t conclusive. That’s why we need her cooperation.”

Herrera said, “In cases that aren’t mostly about narcotics offenses, we’re usually a secondary resource, a source of expert consulting. But because of the kind of drug it was, the local police don’t have much to charge the suspect with. So for the moment, we’re the lead agency in the case. Of course we’ve taken steps to stop the people who sold the drug, and Mr. Crane will be charged with possession of the drug. For the more serious offenses, they’ll need the help of the victim.”

“You’re telling me Chelsea has to be grilled and forced to relive a rape in front of a court?”

“It’s more complicated than that I’m afraid,” McNally said. “Stopping all illegal drugs from entering the country is impossible, but we stop some of them. This is about a victim, your daughter. She deserves some justice.”

“I don’t know,” Sally said. All of this was confusing. But Chelsea certainly had decided what to do—go away for a while, and stay out of sight. “What if she’s not up to this?”

“She might be subpoenaed to testify in a trial. No judge would be able to tell her what to say. But she would be reminded that if she doesn’t cooperate, the man who raped her will pay a fine and walk away. Someone has to stand up and say, ‘I did not consent to sex with this man, but the tests show he had sex with me.’ Otherwise, he’ll do this to other women. There will be other pointless investigations and trials until a victim has the courage to stand up.”

Sally Schnell could think of nothing to say. She knew that they were right. Letting him go on doing this was terrible, a sin.

Herrera said, “She’s not at her home in Avon, New York. Can you tell us why that is?”

“I can’t really tell you. She didn’t even tell me what had happened to her. She went away. Now I guess I know why she wanted to get away.”

“Mrs. Schnell, can you tell us where she is at present?”

“She wants time to get over this, to get her head straight. That’s what she said. It’s what she needs, and she made me promise not to tell anyone anything for any reason. Let her come home when she’s ready to face this.”

Herrera and McNally looked at each other, and their expressions turned grim. McNally said, “We appreciate your position. But I’m going to ask you again. There are two very good reasons to answer. The first and most important is that we happen to know Mr. Crane has been trying hard to find Chelsea. Probably she doesn’t want to hear him pleading with her not to testify. But we believe it’s more serious than that. He knows that he’s about to be charged with a crime that could result in a very long prison sentence.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Think about it. If she testifies he could spend the rest of his life in prison. If she doesn’t, he’ll pay a small fine and the case will be closed.”

“Oh,” said Sally. “I’ve got to call her.”

“We have to ask you not to do that,” said McNally.

“Why not?”

“Chelsea has a choice about whether to cooperate with the investigation—not legally, of course, but in practical terms. She has no choice about whether or not to submit to an interview. We—or our colleagues—must speak with her. And these interviews have to be conducted in person, not over the phone. Please give us her current address, and we can be on our way.”

Sally hesitated. “All right. Do you carry a pad or something? I’ll write it down for you.”

McNally produced a small spiral notebook and a pen. She wrote and handed it back. He read aloud, “Thirteen sixty-four North Chambers Street, Hanover, New Hampshire. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

McNally looked down again at his small spiral notebook, then put it into his pocket. “Thank you, ma’am. We may be in touch later. If you get any other information, call us. Here’s my card.” They headed to the door.

She looked at the card and said, “What was the other reason?”

“Ma’am?”

“The other reason why I should give you her address.”

Herrera said, “We’re federal officers. Lying to us or not answering our questions is a crime. Both you and she could have been charged with obstruction of justice. It would be a terrible thing if the rapist went free and the rape victim and her mother went to a federal prison.”

Then they were out the door. She was relieved that they had not told her the second reason until after she had decided. She would always have had to wonder if she’d done it to save her child or to save herself. This way she knew.