Monday, 2:05 p. m.
The attack had been witnessed by two of Shanaya’s coworkers, who had also been arriving for an afternoon shift at the building on East Ninth. The patrol officer who had taken all the reports provided Jack and Riley with this concise summary: Shanaya had been walking up Bolivar, a busy street in broad daylight, with the two witnesses approaching from the opposite direction on the other side of Ninth, coming from the Rapid Transit stop at Tower City. Though they were approximately 350 feet away, across a busy road, they clearly saw the man stop the young woman. It seemed that a short conversation ensued and then the man pulled her into an alley, where she clearly did not want to go. The two young women instantly dashed against traffic, across East Ninth and sped to the alley, where they found the man punching Shanaya in the midriff. One of the witnesses called 911 while the other leapt onto the man’s back, doing her best to choke him. The first gave police their location, then hit the man across the knees with a piece of rebar she found on the ground. After that he put up his hands and told her to stop and that he would cooperate fully provided she didn’t hit him again. The second witness slid off his back. He made no attempt to leave the scene and even thanked the first witness for calling the cops.
Shanaya, however, ran farther up the alley until one of the witnesses called her name. The patrol officer guessed she’d been about to run out on the whole drama until she realized that they knew her.
“Unless it was just nerves,” the officer told them, confiding his take on her behavior. “Totally panicked and all. And this alley’s a dead end, so she had nowhere to go. I ran all their names and she came up in relation to a homicide of yours. I told Dispatch to inform you and here you are.” He seemed pleased to think he could get back into his car and roll on to the next incident. Not all patrol officers want to make detective or sergeant. Many are perfectly happy where they are, addicted to the constantly changing landscape of law and order in a large city.
“What’s the guy’s story?” Riley asked.
“Once he heard me say there were detectives coming, he declined to give one. His name is Eric Hayes, and he lives on Franklin. He’s a construction worker, commercial jobs. I asked him why he assaulted the young lady, and he said, and I quote, ‘That punch I threw is nothing compared to what she deserves.’ I asked for clarification, and he said he’d wait for you. The two witnesses gave me their info so I let them go.”
A note of caution had entered his voice, and he paused.
“What?” Jack asked.
His word flow, strong until that point, seemed to ebb and falter. “The two witnesses were, well, totally typical. Adrenaline high, both talking at once, jumping all over the place in their story, yak, yak, yak. Since they said they knew the victim because they worked with her, which is where all three were heading, I asked where they work. Dead stop. They said, practically in unison, we work in customer service. Dead stop again. I got them to give me the name and address. . . it’s in that building on the corner, right on—”
Riley said, “Yeah, we’ve been there.”
“Really? Huh.” The officer waited a split second to see if more explanation would be forthcoming, saw that it wouldn’t, and went on. “I got curious, pressed a bit, but they kept saying either technical support or customer service like they were friggin’ yoga mantras or something, and after that they weren’t so excited and talkative, like the adrenaline had drained right out of them both at the same time. It was kinda weird. Then that one”—he jerked a chin toward Shanaya, huddled in an alcove within the alley—“has been trying every which way to wriggle out of here. When I put the guy in my car, she tried to take off but turned around when I started to chase her. I’m not only standing in this alley because it blocks the wind. I figured if I didn’t keep her cornered, she’d try again.”
Riley jotted a few notes before giving up. Trying to write on a tiny pad with thick gloves didn’t work well.
“What do you guys want to do with these two?” the patrol officer asked. “Want them in your car?” When they hesitated, he added: “I only ask because it’s colder than a well-digger’s ass out here, wind block or no wind block.”
“You book him in,” Riley said. “We’ll take her.”
“Keep a firm grip,” the officer warned, and left the alley.
* * *
Shanaya Thomas flat-out begged not to be taken to the station. She couldn’t miss work. She was already late and that was bad enough, but to miss part of the day would probably get her fired—which added insult to injury since she was the victim here. So why did she have to suffer? She had already told them everything: the guy came up, said some nasty things to her, then dragged her into the alley and hit her. Then the other girls showed up.
“What nasty things?” Riley asked, raising his voice slightly. The city-issued Ford had seen better days and the heater made a droning whine, especially when turned up full blast, and Riley had it turned up full blast. He and Jack faced the young woman in the back seat. She wore knit pants tucked into boots, oversized nylon gloves, and a parka, that didn’t seem to have quite enough padding for the weather. Her black hair hung in silky tufts around her face. No puffs of warm air had reached her yet and she had her knees drawn up to her chin, held in place by both arms. And still she shivered.
“That I was asking for it, walking along the street by myself—strutting, I think he said, strutting. I figured, okay, some random nut, but it’s the middle of the morning, right? Daylight. I told him to leave me alone and went to walk around him, and that’s when he grabbed me.”
“Then what?”
Jack let Riley handle the questions; he was much better at expressing sympathy in his tone and expression, whether he felt it or not.
“He pulled me into the alley and told me to give him all my money. I still didn’t believe anything that bad could happen. It was the middle of the day.”
Her voice trembled at points, but she seemed much more angry than upset . . . as well as perplexed. Jack could not decide if she honestly didn’t know why the man had targeted her or if she honestly didn’t know what to do about it. As usual, there seemed one thing she still didn’t want to do under any circumstances: tell them anything that would help.
No, she didn’t know Eric Hayes, had never heard his name or seen his face, and had no idea why he would decide to mug her.
“Really?” Jack said, letting his voice get as harsh as it wanted. “Excuse us if we don’t buy that, since you have lied to us about every single thing from the get-go.”
“I have not!”
“Evan’s workplace, your location, why you abandoned your apartment—” He didn’t mention her quest to get Evan’s personal property, including that little key . . . no reason to alert her of his interest in it.
Their anger didn’t register or didn’t affect her. She stonewalled, being very good at that, with the bald-faced declaration that she had never lied to them about anything. And that she really, really needed to get to work.
“We’ll call your boss for you,” Riley promised, and pulled away from the curb. Shanaya Thomas muttered something under her breath and slumped back in the seat, pouting like a toddler who’d been denied ice cream.
She continued to protest, trying a new angle every couple of blocks. She’d already told them everything she knew. She was the victim, and it wasn’t fair for her to lose her job because of some crazy guy. As they rolled into the Justice Center she pointed out that since she wasn’t under arrest, she could leave if she wished. And she definitely wished.
Inconvenient as it may be, Jack told her, she was the material witness to a crime as well as the victim, and if she tried to leave, they would then arrest her for hindering prosecution.
Riley promised to call her boss and insist that Shanaya could not possibly help being late to work. This did not thaw her, any more than the car’s heating system could. Shanaya had great worries in her life, and they were not one of them. She did not fear the police or the police station, as many people did. She just really, really wanted to be elsewhere.
So they let her cool her heels while they interviewed Eric Hayes.
