“Could’ve been a rock or a branch or a—Look, I didn’t know what it was. And even if I had, I was in no condition to help.”

They made her retrace her movements for the past year and five months over and over again. Her fleeing to Iowa, her entry into rehab, her work history, her move to Colorado. Several times Cal suggested she didn’t have to answer questions that didn’t pertain to the accident for which she was being questioned. Almost every time she answered anyway, trying to give them what they wanted, what they needed.

They brought lunch, right when she was in the thick of it and she couldn’t have eaten if her life depended on it.

“I’m about to end this interview,” Cal said. “Let’s move this along quickly.”

“It’s probably in the best interest of your client to be patient for these questions and get it all behind her.”

“The client is also my sister,” he said, scowling.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I need it to be over. If it can ever be over.”

“I put a call in to the sexual assault unit,” the detective said. “We have to establish whether there was another crime.”

She looked through a bunch of pictures and bingo, there he was. She identified him and they told her he had a record; quite a few felony arrests for everything from robbery to battery to sexual assault.

She told them he had given her the creeps but he didn’t fit her image of a career criminal; he was so clean-cut, so preppy. After she’d spent a little time with him she knew he was wrong. She never anticipated how wrong.

The sexual assault sergeant introduced himself simply as Charles. He asked her to explain how she knew he was a deviant or maybe just explain why she was dead set against seeing him. So she told them about that one night he was invited inside, how enraged he was with his dysfunction, how difficult it was for him to successfully complete intercourse.

As far as they could determine, his name was actually Craig Dixon. They showed her an artist’s rendering too, a pencil sketch. “That’s him,” she said. “Why do you have this?”

“He’s committed other crimes. He has other victims.”

They asked her seven times where he was. Seven times she told them she had no idea, that she ran from him, that she feared him.

Charles was incredibly tall with giant feet that made her think of Goofy, the Disney character. He folded his legs uncomfortably under the desk. Detective Lundquist left the office briefly, while the remaining two detectives questioned her. “You know it’s best if we locate him and bring him in,” Charles said.

“If I could help you do that, I would. But I don’t know where he is.”

“Is it possible you got drunk and you and your boyfriend ran down a cyclist and left him by the side of the road, critically injured?”

“No,” she said much more calmly than she felt. “He’s not nor was he ever my boyfriend. I’m telling you, I didn’t even know where he lived. We had one official date and he was stalking me after that. I’m afraid of him.”

“Have you seen him at all since that night?”

“I think I see him a lot, but it’s just my nerves. It always turns out it’s not him. It must not be him—he hasn’t bothered me at all. Why would he come all the way to Colorado if he didn’t intend to hurt me again?”

“Wait? Colorado?”

“I thought I saw him in a mall in Colorado Springs, but he didn’t see me. He finally turned and I don’t think it was him. His nose was too big.”

The sergeant fished out a more mug shot—profile and forward—that was newer than the photo and the pencil sketch.

“Oh God,” she said.

“Is this the man you saw in Colorado?”

“Maybe it was. He was kind of far away. But I followed him for a while because I thought it might be him and I had to know. But I was on crutches. I had a sprained ankle. I wasn’t moving very fast.”

“He didn’t approach you?”

“No. And he was gone before I could verify it was him. The story of my life—seeing my nightmare over and over and never being sure.”

“Did he say anything that night? Anything memorable?”

“I asked him what he hit while we were driving and he said, ‘Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t driving. You were driving.’ But I wasn’t. I couldn’t have driven if my life depended on it.”

“I believe that’s enough for today,” Cal said. “Ms. Jones is not under arrest and doesn’t have to—”

“We could arrest you for obstruction,” the detective said. “You were with him in the car and it was 1.7 miles from that gas station that the cyclist was hit. He might’ve died but for the fortuitous presence of a passerby with medical knowledge who came along less than a minute later.”

“Obstruction from a girl who was drugged and raped? That will never get by a judge,” Cal said. “Her head is clearly lolling on the tape and he gets behind the wheel.”

“I have medical records,” she said. “I didn’t report it to the police but I went to a clinic. I was bruised and injured and afraid of disease. I had showered but they did a rape exam anyway. Since the police weren’t involved they didn’t have evidence. But they have records. It was the Macmillan Women’s Clinic.”

The detective looked at his watch. “We’ve been at this all day and it just occurred to you to mention medical records?”

“I talked all day! I answered all your humiliating questions in front of my brother!” She looked at him. “Cal, I’ve had enough.”

“We’re done here. We won’t be answering any more questions without a warrant. You pretty much squeezed her dry. If you have any more questions, we’ll be in Colorado.”

He took Sierra’s elbow to lead her away.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “My turn. You’ve been looking for him? For the hit-and-run?”

“Among other things,” the detective said. “You’re going to have to be very cautious, ma’am. Craig Dixon is a dangerous man.”

“Why are you looking for him?”

“Rape, for one thing.”

“But I don’t want to testify against him! He terrifies me! And if for any reason he isn’t put in prison...”

“Let’s worry about that when we have him in custody,” the sergeant said. “For now, my advice is, caution.”

“Well, he was certainly right about one thing,” she said. “I’ll never forget him.”

The detectives sat stone-still and silent. The sergeant from the sexual assault unit leaned forward. “What were his exact words, please?”

“He said, ‘You’ll never forget me now.’ And then he walked away.”

The men looked at each other. “That’s a wrap. You can go. Make sure we’re able to reach one or both of you. If you change cell numbers, please contact us. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Cal led her away. “You all right?”

She shrugged. “A little beat up. Why were they so hard on me if they know he’s the bad guy?”

“They had to be convinced you weren’t a co-suspect in that hit-and-run but, more important, they want to know if you can lead them to their suspect.”

“Lead them! Don’t they understand I’d be running in the other direction?”

“I’m pretty sure they understand that now. I wondered why this much energy was being spent trying to find him for a hit-and-run when the victim has made a full recovery. Sierra, the man has obviously raped other women. They connected the dots—found his face on that hit-and-run film. They might never have found him if there hadn’t been a felony hit-and-run. That tape would never have been viewed in the first place if there hadn’t been a crime and investigation. That’s why they were looking for you. They tied your car to their suspect. I have a feeling, based on what you’ve said and their questions, they’re looking for a predator. A serial rapist. Or worse.”

She couldn’t speak. Finally she said, “Won’t the other victims bring him to justice?” she asked.

“And what if they can’t?” Cal said.

“Can’t?” she repeated shakily. “Dear God.”

The privilege of a lifetime is to become

who you truly are.

—C. G. Jung

Chapter 17

SIERRA WAS JUST too tired to call Connie. She wasn’t about to explain all this over the phone. But she saw his texts and he’d added another one with a picture of him with Molly. She finally wrote back, I miss you guys, too. Sorry, I’m exhausted and hungry. Tomorrow will be better.

He must have been sitting on the phone. He texted back instantly. If you needed me, I would come.

The sweetest man alive, she thought. She didn’t think she deserved him. She texted back, I’m okay. I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Thank you for being so wonderful.

They went out for dinner in the hotel, then to bed. She slept incredibly well for someone who had just surmised that the only way this monster would go to jail was if she faced him and accused him. And she was sure she wouldn’t be able to.

But God was watching out for her. She didn’t even dream.

The next morning they picked up a copy of her medical records. Cal called Charles—Sergeant Tilden—who had interviewed them and arranged to have the mug shot of Craig Dixon emailed to him. Then they headed for the airport. Cal changed their flight, but they weren’t going right home. They flew to Des Moines and rented a car, making the two-hour drive to the little farming village where Marissa and Jed Jones lived. Given their parents were overly sensitive to drop-in guests, even their own children, Cal called and told his mother that he and Sierra were passing through and wanted to stop by and say hello in the morning.

“Say hello?” Sierra asked with a laugh. “Is that what we’re doing?”