"Where did you feel it?"

She put her hand to her left hip.

"He was behind you when you felt it?" Lena asked, thinking this would make the killer left-handed, just like Sibyl's attacker.

"Yeah."

"So he took you then?" Lena asked. "He ran into you, then you felt the shot, then he took you somewhere?"

"Yes."

"In his car?"

"I don't remember," she said. "The next thing I knew, I was in a basement." She put her hands over her face, crying in earnest. Her body started to shake with grief.

"It's okay," Lena said, putting her hand over the other woman's. "Do you want to stop now? You're in charge of this."

The room was quiet again but for Julia's breathing. When she did speak again, her voice was a hoarse, almost imperceptible whisper. "He raped me."

Lena felt a lump in her throat. She knew this already, of course, but the way Julia said the word stripped Lena of every defense she had. Lena felt raw and exposed. She did not want Jeffrey in the room. For some reason, he seemed to sense this. When she looked up at him, he nodded toward the door. Lena mouthed a yes, and he left without a sound.

"Do you know what happened next?" Lena asked.

Julia moved her head, trying to find Jeffrey.

"He's gone," Lena said, giving her voice an assured tone that she did not feel. "It's just us, Julia. It's just you and me, and we've got all day if you need it. All week, all year." She paused, lest the girl take that as encouragement to stop the interview. "Just keep in mind that the sooner we get the details, the sooner we can stop him. You don't want him to do this to another girl, do you?"

She took the question hard, as Lena expected she would. Lena knew she had to be a little tough or the girl would simply shut up, keeping the details to herself.

Julia sobbed, the noise filling the room, ringing in Lena's ears.

Julia said, "I don't want this to happen to anyone else."

"Me, either," Lena answered. "You have to tell me what he did to you." She paused, then, "Did you see his face at any time?"

"No," she answered. "I mean, I did, but I couldn't tell. I couldn't make the connection. It was so dark all the time. There was no light at all."

"Are you sure it was a basement?"

"It smelled," she said. "Musty, and I could hear water dripping."

"Water?" Lena asked. "Like dripping from a faucet, or maybe from the lake?"

"A faucet," Julia said. "More like a faucet. It sounded…" She closed her eyes, and for a few seconds she seemed to let herself go back to that place. "Like a metallic clinking." She mimicked the sound, "Clink, clink, clink, over and over. It never stopped." She put her hands over her ears, as if to stop the noise.

"Let's go back to the college," Lena said. "You felt the shot in your hip, then what? Do you know what kind of car he was driving?"

Julia shook her head again in an exaggerated sweep left to right. "I don't remember. I was picking up my books, and then the next thing I knew, I was, I was…" Her voice trailed off.

"In the basement?" Lena provided. "Do you remember anything about where you were?"

"It was dark."

"You couldn't make anything out?"

"I couldn't open my eyes. They wouldn't open." Her voice so soft that Lena had to strain to hear. "I was flying."

"Flying?"

"I kept floating up, like I was on water. I could hear the waves from the ocean."

Lena took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Did he have you on your back?"

Julia's face crumpled at this, and she shook with sobs.

"Honey," Lena prompted. "Was he white? Black? Could you tell?"

She shook her head again. "I couldn't open my eyes. He talked to me. His voice." Her lips were trembling, and her face had turned an alarming shade of red. The tears came in earnest now, marking a continual stream down her face. "He said he loved me." She gasped for air as the panic took hold. "He kept kissing me. His tongue-" She stopped, sobbing.

Lena took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She was pushing too hard. Lena counted to a slow one hundred, then said, "The holes in your hands. We know he put something in your hands and feet."

Julia looked at the bandages, as if seeing them for the first time. "Yes," she said. "I woke up, and my hands were nailed down. I could see the nail go through, but it didn't hurt."

"You were on the floor?"

"I think so. I felt"-she seemed to look for a word-"I felt suspended. I was flying. How did he make me fly? Was I flying?"

Lena cleared her throat. "No," she answered. Then began, "Julia, can you think of anybody new in your life, maybe someone on campus or in town, who was making you uncomfortable? Maybe you felt like you were being watched?"

"I'm still being watched," she said, looking out the window.

"I'm watching you," Lena said, turning the girl's face back toward her. "I'm watching you, Julia. Nobody is going to hurt you again. Do you understand that? Nobody."

"I don't feel safe," she said, her face crumpling as she started to cry again. "He can see me. I know he can see me."

"It's just you and me here," Lena assured her. When she spoke, it was like talking to Sibyl, assuring Sibyl that she would be taken care of. "When you go to Augusta, I'll be with you. I'm not going to let you out of my sight. Do you understand that?"

Julia seemed to be more frightened despite Lena's words. Her voice was raspy when she asked, "Why am I going to Augusta?"

"I don't know that for sure," Lena answered, reaching for the water pitcher. "Don't worry about that right now."

"Who's going to send me to Augusta?" Julia asked, her lips trembling.

"Drink some more water," Lena told her, holding the cup up to her lips. "Your parents are going to be here soon. Don't worry about anything but taking care of yourself and getting better."

The girl choked, and water spilled down her neck and onto the bed. Her eyes opened wide in panic. "Why are you moving me?" she asked. "What's going to happen?"

"We won't move you if you don't want," Lena said. "I'll talk to your parents."

"My parents?"

"They should be here soon," Lena assured her. "It's okay."

"Do they know?" Julia asked, her voice raised. "Did you tell them what happened to me?"

"I don't know," Lena answered. "I'm not sure if they know any of the details."

"You can't tell my daddy," the girl sobbed. "Nobody can tell my father, okay? He can't know what happened."

"You didn't do anything," Lena said. "Julia, your dad's not going to blame you for this."

Julia was quiet. After a while, she looked back out the window, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"It's okay," Lena soothed, taking a tissue out of the box on the table. She reached over the girl, blotting the water off the pillow. The last thing this girl needed to think about was how her father would react to what had happened to her. Lena had worked with rape victims before. She knew how the blame worked. Very seldom did a victim blame anyone but herself.

There was a strange noise Lena found vaguely familiar. Too late she realized it was her gun.

"Move away," Julia whispered. She held the gun awkwardly in her bandaged hands. It tilted toward Lena, then back toward Julia as she tried to get a better grip on the weapon. Lena looked toward the door, thinking to call for Jeffrey, but Julia warned her, "Don't."

Lena held her hands out to her sides, but did not back up. She knew the safety was on, but also knew it would take a matter of seconds for the girl to switch it off.

Lena said, "Give me the gun."

"You don't understand," the girl said, tears welling into her eyes. "You don't understand what he did to me, how he-" She stopped, choking on a sob. She did not have a good grip on the gun, but the barrel was pointed toward Lena and her finger was on the trigger. Lena felt a cold sweat overcome her, and she honestly could not recall if the safety was on or off. What she did know was that a round was already chambered. Once the safety was off, a tap on the trigger would fire the weapon.