Whispering Rock

“Hey!” Mike said to the cop. “Hey! Come on!”



The police officer finally got in it, putting himself between Brad and Jack along with Mike. “All right, gentlemen,” the cop said. “I have my orders. No scuffling outside Ms. Sheridan’s door. If you want to talk this over calmly, I’d like you to move down the hall.”



Oh, that was not a good suggestion, Mike thought. If they moved down the hall, they wouldn’t be talking. Mike cautiously backed Jack up a few steps. “Take a breath,” he said quietly. “You don’t want to do this.”



Jack glowered at Mike. “You sure about that?”



“Back off,” Mike said with as much authority as he could muster.



Just then a nurse came out of Brie’s room and Brad snagged her too fast for Jack to intervene. “Ma’am, I’m Ms. Sheridan’s ex-husband. Brad. I’m also a police detective,” he said, badging her. “Off duty. Will you ask her if she’ll see me? Please?”



The nurse made a U-turn and went back into the room.



“What’s he doing here?” Brad asked, indicating Mike with his eyes and a jut of his chin.



Oh, mistake, Mike thought instantly, stiffening. Was Brad crazy? Pissing off the guy who was keeping Jack from killing him? He felt his own fists begin to open and close. The ex wants to know why another man is here? He dumps his wife for another woman, but no guy is supposed to pick up where he left off? Mike actually smiled, though coldly. Balls, he thought. I should just let Jack beat him up.



“He’s a cop,” Jack said, stretching the truth somewhat. “I asked him to come. To help.”



“He can go,” Brad said. “We don’t need his help.”



That did it. Mike took one fast step in Brad’s direction, but was stopped by a strong hand on the bad shoulder, pulling him back. That was all it took to get his attention; he wasn’t going to put Brie through this. But if they all ran into each other somewhere else, like the parking lot, he couldn’t make any promises. Right now he wanted a piece of Brad as much as Jack did.



The nurse returned from the room and spoke to Brad. “When the doctor is finished, you can go in.”



Brad had the good sense not to take on any superior airs. He didn’t avoid eye contact with the other men, however.



“Let me ask you one question,” Jack said to Brad, trying to keep his voice under control to avoid being ejected by the uniform. “Were you at work the night it happened?”



“No.”



Jack ground his teeth. “Then if you hadn’t walked out on her for another woman, you’d have been at the house that night. Maybe waiting up for her to get home. Maybe right inside where you could hear her scream. So much for your good history.”



“Hey,” Brad began, clearly wishing to argue the point. But Jack turned away from him and took several steps down the hall. Right then the doctor came breezing out of the room, looking down at the chart as he walked by all three men. Brad lifted his chin, glared briefly and entered Brie’s room.



Mike let out his breath. “That was gonna be so ugly,” he said. He went to the chair outside Brie’s door and sat. Jack paced, fidgeting. He took several steps down the hall, away from the door.



Mike rested his elbows on his knees. He scratched his itchy beard. He noticed the cop was standing beside him.



“This has got to be tough,” the cop said to Mike, indicating Jack just a few feet away, his jaw pulsing and his hands in fists at his sides.



Mike turned his head, looked up at the young officer. He glanced at his best friend; Jack was tortured, helpless. “Nothing can prepare you for something like this to happen to a woman you love,” he said softly. “Nothing.”



Brie was released from the hospital that afternoon and she went home to her father’s house. Sam and Jack drove her while Mike followed in his own car, watching with concern. He hadn’t been around very many sexual assault victims in his police career, but certainly he’d come into contact with some. He had never seen a woman so stoic, so removed. Once they all arrived at Sam’s, she went directly to the room that had been hers when she was younger. She called Jack to come, to cover the mirror.



Brie took her dinner on a tray in her room that night. Her sisters stopped by one at a time, visited with her in her room, but didn’t stay long. There were five Sheridan siblings, all married but Brie. Two of the sisters were older than Jack, one was a couple of years younger and then there was Brie, the caboose, eleven years younger than Jack. Her three older sisters had brought to the family eight daughters, and Jack and Mel had provided the only boy in little David. So when the family was all together, it was an almost unmanageable crowd. A teeming throng filled with noise and laughter—Mike had seen that for himself on earlier visits. It was not unlike the Valenzuela household. Not so now. The house was still, like a mausoleum.



Mike had a quiet dinner with Sam, Jack and Mel.



“You should probably head for L.A.,” Jack said to Mike when the table was cleared.



“Whatever.” He shrugged. “I can stay a day or so, see if anything develops.”



“I don’t want to hold you up,” Jack said. Then he walked out onto the patio and Mike followed. “I can call you if anything happens.”



Sam came outside holding a tray with three glasses. There was a short shot of amber liquid in each and he put the tray on the patio table. Without conversation, the men each took one, sipping in silence. The June air was sultry in the Sacramento valley, humid and almost oppressive. After a few minutes Sam got up and said good-night. Then Jack finished his drink and went into the house. One by one, the lights inside began to go out, leaving only the kitchen light for Mike. Exhausted as he was, he didn’t feel like sleep. He helped himself to another short shot and went back to the patio, lighting the candle on the table.



The whole family is in shock, he thought. They move around silently; they grieve Brie’s lost innocence. Everyone under this roof is in terrible pain; they feel each physical blow for which she bears the marks.



“You should probably go now.”



He lifted his head and saw Brie standing in the open patio doors, wearing the same clothes she had worn home from the hospital. “Brie,” he said, rising.



“I’ve talked to the detectives several times. Jerome Powell, the rapist, was tracked as far as New Mexico, then the trail was lost,” she said, very businesslike. “I can tell you from experience, the odds are at least ninety-five percent he’s gone—pulled a territorial. I’m going to start counseling and group therapy right away—and I’ve decided not to go back to work for a while. Jack and Mel insist on staying the rest of the week, but you should go. Visit your family.”



“Would you like to come and sit with me?” he asked.



She shook her head. “I’ll talk to the D.A. every day, see if he turns up anything new. Of course I’m staying here. If I need any assistance in the police department, I have an ex-husband who’s feeling very guilty. And very helpful.” She took a breath. “I wanted to say goodbye. And to thank you for trying to help.”



“Brie,” he said, taking a step toward her, his arms open.



She held up a hand, and the look that came into her eyes stopped him where he was. She shook her head, kept her hand raised against him. “You understand,” she said, warning him not to get too close, not to touch her.



“Of course,” he said.



“Drive carefully,” she said, disappearing into the house.



Two



One week later Mel and Jack returned to Virgin River to resume their routine. Mel went into Doc’s every morning, the baby with her for the day. If something urgent came up, she could always take the baby over to Jack at the bar, or if Jack wasn’t there, Paige or Preacher or Mike were more than willing to babysit. For the most part, David could be counted on to remain content for the half hour or so Mel needed to see a patient as long as she had the bouncy seat with her and he was neither hungry nor dirty. He still took two long naps a day—one in the morning and one in the afternoon.



Mel had been back from Sacramento less than two weeks when a teenage girl from Virgin River came to Doc’s and asked to see her. Carra Jean Winslow was fifteen and Mel had never seen her before. In fact, even though Mel had lived and worked in Virgin River for just over a year, she didn’t know the girl’s parents. Taking note of her age and obvious anxiety, Mel took her to an examining room before asking her what she needed. When a fifteen-year-old girl who didn’t cough or wheeze or bring her parents came in to see the nurse midwife, the possibilities seemed pretty limited and obvious.



“I heard there was a pill that could keep you from getting pregnant if, you know, you had sex,” she said. She said it very quietly, looking at her feet.



“Emergency birth control. But it’s only effective if the intercourse has been very recent.”



“Two nights ago,” she said weakly.



“That’s recent enough,” Mel said, trying to put her at ease with a smile. “Any problems? Pain? Bleeding? Anything?”



“Bleeding. There was some bleeding.”



“First time?” Mel asked, smiling kindly. The girl nodded. “Have you ever had an internal exam before?”



She shook her head and looked down again.



“I’d like to check you, make sure everything is okay. It’s not as terrible as you think,” Mel said, touching her arm gently. “How much bleeding?”



“Not too much. A little… Getting better…”



“How do you feel? There?”



She shrugged and said, “Still a little sore. Not bad.”



“That’s good. I assume, if you’re interested in emergency contraception, you didn’t use a condom….”



“No,” Carra answered.



“Okay, we can handle this. Can I get you to undress and put on a gown for me?”



“My mom… No one knows I’m here.”



“That’s all right, Carra. This is between you and me. I’m only interested in your health. Okay?”



“Okay,” she said.



“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Everything off, just the gown.”



Poor thing, Mel thought. She ached for young girls who had just stumbled into this sort of thing without planning, without being sure. And that described almost all young girls. But at least she was here, avoiding yet another disaster. She gave Carra plenty of time to get undressed, but didn’t leave her waiting long enough to tangle up her nerves, then returned to the exam room.



“Let’s get a blood pressure and listen to your heart first,” she said briskly.



“I have to pay you myself,” Carra said. “I don’t want my parents to know about this.”



“Carra, confidentiality is important in this office—you can trust that,” she said. “This is all going to work out.” She applied the blood pressure cuff, noting there were a few small bruises on the girl’s upper arm. “You have a couple of bruises here,” she said.



“It’s nothing. It was…volleyball. It can get a little rough sometimes.”



“Looks like someone grabbed you,” Mel suggested.



The girl shrugged. “It happens.”



Mel got the blood pressure, which was normal. She listened to Carra’s heart, looked in her eyes, checked her pupils. Except for the nervous pounding of her heart, she seemed to be in good shape. She showed her the speculum, explained the procedure and eased her carefully into position for the pelvic. “Nice and slow, feet right here, slide down for me. That’s it. Try to relax, your knees apart, honey. Thank you. This isn’t going to be bad at all, so take some deep breaths and try to relax.”



“Okay,” she said, and began to softly cry.