Chapter 7

She was walking along Piru that Friday, having taken a personal day off from work, I told Cecelia. She came to the big concrete runoff channel there at Tomlinson and walked down to look at Tijeras Arroyo. You remember the place – we were there when we checked out Letty's neighborhood on her case. You'll remember that to the right of that channel, as you face the arroyo, there's a triangle of vacant land, all grown up with weeds and brush, with the wall of the trailer park on the other side of it. Apparently the guy was in there, either hiding or just hunkered down and easy to miss, for she heard a swishing of weeds and then a hand was over her mouth and the guy was behind her, shoving her down onto the slope of the arroyo. She said it was a vacant lot, but it was actually the arroyo where it happened, as the transcript makes clear.

It's a wonder they didn't both break their necks getting down that slope. She couldn't remember, as you found out, how they got down there – maybe he used the trail that takes off to the right along the block wall. But however he did it, he got her into the trees and brush at the bottom, where he produced a knife, held it to her throat, and told her if she made a sound he'd kill her. He forced her into the brush, forced her down, and raped her. She was so afraid that she forced herself to be quiet even when it was extremely painful.

She described a male black, approximately 5'9" to six feet, approximately 180 pounds, unshaven but not for long, dreadlocks over his ears and collar, eyes she didn't catch, an odor of sweat but nothing to indicate that it was long term, very strong though in those circumstances any man might have seemed so. She didn't notice any scars or other distinguishing features. He was wearing a faded red t-shirt with some kind of printing on the front, she doesn't know what, cargo pants, and she thinks black training or running shoes.

When he was done he left downstream, and she thought that perhaps he exited the arroyo through the development on the south side of the channel. When she was sure he was gone, she got herself together somewhat and called 911 on her cell phone. The EMTs took her out through the route she thinks the perp took, since the ambulance couldn't get to her.

When I was done, Cecelia sat quietly for a while. Finally she said, in a soft voice, "What a terrible thing to experience."

"Yeah."

"If I had the chance to make the law on this subject, I would decree that men who commit this dastardly act suffer not merely castration, but surgical amputation of the offending member. It would not remove from them the lust to dominate a weaker person that motivates rape, but it would at least physically prevent them from consummating the act."

"I'd as soon shoot the critters," I said. I held up a hand as she opened her mouth. "Yeah, I know – I've said more than once that the death penalty, if it's going to mean something, has to apply only to the most heinous crimes, those crimes for which execution is the only commensurate penalty." As always my English improved without any conscious effort on my part when I began discussing intellectual things. "But that's my mind talking. Emotionally I want to stand these people up against a wall and use a machine gun on them."

Cecelia nodded. "I cannot quarrel with your emotions. Rape is almost entirely a crime which seeks out women – and though most women will never be a rape victim, it is probably impossible to be a woman and not think occasionally of the risk. I too would not mind unduly – I am speaking also of my emotional state – if the amputation I proposed were to occur at the level of the Adam's apple."

"Meanwhile," I said, "did you spot anything in that account which seemed suggestive?"

"The man was apparently hiding, or at least hidden, in that triangular plot of vacant ground. Where does he live?"

I nodded. "Now that's a good point. He didn't have major BO, just the sort of sweat you might accumulate in your ordinary activities. Therefore he hadn't been days without bathing, nor had he walked miles in the sun – it's fall now, but the days are still mostly warm, and that one was – I've checked the weather online. We can presume that he could have taken the bus from anywhere in the city, since Burque didn't notice any car parked at the curb, and walked down to the arroyo – but would he know to do that, and what would his motivation be? Or we can presume that he possibly lives in the general area, though that's still a lot of ground to cover."

"A question now arises, Darvin: If he lives nearby, why was he sheltering in that area?"

"Hmmm..." I took up the transcript of the interview, and the notes I'd made on what I'd known before Cecelia spoke with Burque. "It happened during the day ... I don't see the time offhand, but I remember it was before lunch when the call came..."

"We never did have lunch that day, due to the attack. I believe, though, that I was occupied and was actually running somewhat late."

"I know you were sewing..."

"Yes, I was. Given the time it would take for Albuquerque to recover enough to fasten her clothing and call 911, for the police and ambulance to arrive, for initial questioning and treatment at the scene, for transportation to UNMH, and for Albuquerque to persuade the officer to call us, the attack had to have occurred in the morning. That eliminates shade as a factor, since the wall is on the west side of the vacant land."