In the Wake of Wanting

  I glance at Coley. She was pretty quick to make the leap today. I’ve never asked her out, though. She’s not on the princess high, obviously, so that’s different.

  “What he’s doing is unforgivable. I don’t care who he is. None of you should care who he is.”

  “I don’t now.”

  “Reporting him the first time would have kept it from happening to you. Would have kept it from happening to our friend.”

  Lucy and Coley both look at me, surprised–Lucy, because she didn’t know Asher had hurt anyone else; Coley, because she didn’t expect me to reveal why we were asking these questions of Lucy.

  “He did this to someone else?”

  “A friend of ours was raped. We’re not sure it’s him,” I disclose. “But if he did do it, Lucy, we want to make sure he never gets away with it again.”

  “Is this for The Wit?” she asks. “Isn’t he the president and editor or something?”

  Coley shrugs her shoulders to answer her first question.

  “I’m not doing this for the story,” I tell Lucy. “I’m doing it to try to solve a crime. If there’s a story when all is said and done, then maybe it’s something we’ll tell. Obviously we would have to circumvent him, but if he’s guilty, I doubt that would be a problem.”

  “We can use an alias for you, Lucy,” Coley says. I nod my head. “Do you think you could find out the other girl’s name for me? I’d like to talk to her.”

  “I’ll ask my friend. I’ll be discreet.”

  “Thank you, Lucy. And I’m so sorry that he did this to you.”

  “Trey, as far as I’m concerned, you were my hero that night. Who knows how long it would have continued or how much worse it could have gotten had you not interrupted him?”

  “I wish I’d been faster. A few minutes earlier to spare you of this at all, Luce. No woman deserves this.”

  “No. Do what you have to in order to stop him,” she says. “Even if it’s using my name.”

  “Thanks. And if you need anything–anything at all–please ask me.”

  “Or if you need someone to talk to,” Coley offers, “I’m a good listener.” She hands Lucy her phone number.

  “She is,” I tell her. “If you are in need of another friend, Coley’s a good one to have.”

  Lucy smiles. “I’m gonna tell everyone that I know The Wit poet. They’ll be jealous of me.”

  “Feel free to use me,” Coley says, joking.

  “I like her, Trey,” Lucy says. “You should keep her around.”

  “Right?” I agree as the corners of my lips naturally rise. “Let me walk you down.”

  “I’m fine. Your building’s crazy secure. So many cameras and doormen and concierge and… crazy.”

  “If you’re sure,” I say.

  “I’m sure. Thank you both. I feel a little lighter. Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  Coley’s putting food away when I turn back around after activating the security system. I help her out, but neither of us say anything. When we’re done, the couch seems like the natural place for us to settle. We sit close to one another. I feel the need to be near her; protective of her.

  “I can’t stop thinking about him coming to the hotel yesterday,” she says. “I was scared, but I had no idea what kind of danger he actually posed, Trey. I was standing in front of him in short shorts and a top that–if you looked closely enough–you could see through it. It was an open invitation.”

  “No, Coley. What you wore wasn’t an open invitation. The only open invitation is your request for sex or an affirmative response when someone asks you for it. Understand that.”

  “I know, but it was just so suggestive. He could have easily busted through that door. And no one else was even on the floor. I’d felt so safe all night, but I was so isolated from everyone.”

  “I never meant to put you in danger. I hope you know that.”

  “I do,” she says. She sits quietly in obvious self-reflection, picking at her neatly-filed, polished nails. She shivers, even though it’s warm in the apartment. I know it’s a reflexive response to fear, not the temperature. I put my arm around her to comfort her.

  “How was Pryana?”

  “Distraught. She knew she was raped, but to have a doctor confirm it, too? It was really hard for her. Teri’s been really good with her. It’s good she’s going into psychology.”

  “Rohypnol?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I just can’t believe it. I mean, I believe her,” I clarify. She nods her head. “But… that Asher did it. And now, I believe that he did, but it’s just hard to accept. And to think that he’s done it more than once. That I’ve been friends with him while it’s happening. I just hope I never did anything that may have assisted him. Given someone a drink that was tampered with. Introduced him to a girl who he’d go on to…”

  “You couldn’t have known–”

  “But I did know! I knew about Lucy! I suspected it when it happened. When she told me she was okay, though, I just let it go. But she wasn’t okay. Had I pressed her then, Pryana wouldn’t have been attacked. And what if he’s done it to other women since then? And how many others were there before?”

  “How strong is Rohypnol that she can’t even remember anything?”

  “It’s bad, Coley. It causes partial amnesia. Some victims are so unsure of what happened that they feel there’s not enough to report. It’s likely what happened with the other girl. Had Pryana not confided in you, she may never have told anyone either.

  “You have to wonder if he tried to drug Lucy, too. Had he not gotten that far yet? Did she know better than to take drinks from someone? And why does he do it?” I wonder aloud.

  “I know a lot of girls that want to hook up with him,” Coley says.

  “So do I,” I comment. “But no one like Pryana. No one like Lucy. They’re incredibly intelligent, outspoken, strong women. Ones that make it clear they can succeed fine without a man in their lives.

  “Women like you,” I say, coming to the harsh realization that she’s exactly the type of woman he would prey on. “I’m so glad you had the good sense to turn him down when he asked you out.”

  “It wasn’t good sense,” she says. “I just knew if I went out with him, there was some man code...”

  She doesn’t say any more, nor does she need to. Warmth surrounds my heart and spreads throughout my body to my cheeks. I chuckle lightly with the smile that comes, but remove my arm from her shoulders.

  “Well, friend, I should get some sleep. Thanks to you, I got about none last night.”

  “I think I’ll stay up and catch up on what I missed today at school, if that’s okay. I just need your Wi-Fi password.”

  “Oh, sure. It’s, uh… capital z, four, one, lowercase n, four, then the words is the, all lowercase, and then capital b, three, lowercase s, lowercase t, and two exclamation points.” I hate that Zaina chose my password right now. It’s the most obnoxious, in-your-face thing that Coley could hear after what she just said. “I didn’t pick that, by the way.”

  “Zaina is the best. Hmmm.” She looks up and grins. “The best cook, probably.”

  “Yeah,” I laugh. “Sounds good. She’s not bad. Also, the code to the security system is 4-5-2-3. It’s armed, so if you open any doors or windows, the alarm will go off and you’ll anger my neighbors and quite possibly kill the nice old lady across the hall.”

  Someone knocks on the door.

  “Well, hey, someone’s here. Want to test your deactivation skills?” I joke with her, wondering who’s coming over this late on a Monday. She hops up and rushes to the door, pressing in the four buttons as I look through the peephole. “Go sit down,” I tell her.

  “Who is it?”

  I open the door for two uniformed NYPD officers. “Trey Holland,” one says.

  “Yes?”

  “Would you mind coming down to the station with us? We’d like to ask you a few questions about an incident that happened over the weeke
nd.”

  “Sure.” Coley’s covering her mouth when I look back at her. I pull my phone out of my pocket and send her my dad’s contact info. “Can you call my father and tell him what’s going on?”

  “Of course. Should I come?”

  “No. Secure the apartment and stay here.”

  “I’m sorry, Trey.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a formality. It’s fine.”

  “Ma’am?” the other officer asks her.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you here on your own free will and volition?”

  “Absolutely. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. We work with Pryana. I’m letting her stay at my dorm, so he’s just giving me his spare room while she’s there,” she explains. “Trey’s only trying to help.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  chapter eleven

  I’m led into an empty room for questioning. I really thought how they portrayed these rooms on TV was just for dramatic effect, but it’s exactly like they make them out to be. Desk. Two chairs, one on either side. Large, bright light looming overhead.

  “I’m not under arrest, am I?” I ask, just for clarification.

  “No. We’re just investigating a crime,” one of the cops, who has introduced himself as Detective Raymond, says.

  “But I’m a suspect,” I state.

  “Everyone’s a suspect in the beginning,” the other, Detective Yarbrough, says.

  “Well, my friend Coley got to stay at my apartment, so she’s not. Maybe not everyone.”

  “Trey. Can I call you Trey?” Raymond asks as Yarbrough settles back into his seat.

  “Yeah.”

  “Trey, what did you do last Saturday night?”

  “I went to my fraternity’s formal at the Carlyle Hotel.”

  “Was it a party, or a dance?”

  “Both, yes.”

  “Did you take a date with you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have a girlfriend who goes to school in England, and she didn’t want me taking another girl to a formal affair like that.”

  “But she’s okay with a cute blonde being at your place?” Yarbrough finally gets a question in.

  I don’t see how that’s relevant to Saturday night, so I stare at him as I literally bite my lip.

  “You’re right. That’s none of my business.”

  “Were you drinking at the party–or the formal–on Saturday?” Raymond asks.

  “I had a little to drink before I went down. Just Coke with a splash of bourbon.”

  Yarbrough looks into a manilla folder in front of him. “You’re not old enough to drink, Trey.”

  “No, sir.” I keep talking to try to slide past the subject. “Aside from that drink before going downstairs, I didn’t have anything else while I was at the Carlyle.”

  “While you were at the Carlyle… so you didn’t stay there all night?”

  “No.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I took a walk back to campus. I walked north along 5th Avenue.”

  “What time did you leave the hotel?”

  “Around ten-thirty, I think.”

  “Why did you go?”

  I shake my head, not really sure what compelled me to leave that night. I realize I know; I just don’t want to admit it. “I wanted to see my friend, Coley. I went to the coffee shop where she studies late at night to see if she happened to be there.”

  “Coley… the young woman in your apartment right now.” We’ve already established that.

  Annoyed, I hesitate before answering. “Yes.”

  “Was Coley at the coffee shop?”

  “She was.”

  “And did you stay there with her?”

  “For just a few minutes.”

  “Did you leave together?”

  “Yes.”

  “And where did you go?”

  I retrace our steps from that night, how I walked her to her dorm and how we took a car service to the hotel. I give the cops the name and number of my driver. I explain how I took her to the hotel and walked her in, but didn’t stay. I let them know that the same driver took me home. I recounted how I stayed there the rest of the night and had the security footage to prove it.

  “Did you see this woman at all after you left the hotel?” they ask, pushing a picture of Pryana across the table.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Did you leave out that part of the night?” Yarbrough asks me.

  “No, I just saw her briefly from a distance. She was going into The Wit offices.”

  “The Wit?”

  “The Columbia Daily Witness. It’s the school paper. We all write for it. Me, Coley, Pryana and Asher.” Surely they’ve heard of it.

  “Asher who?”

  “Knoxland. Pryana’s date.”

  “Where were you when you saw her going into the building?”

  “I was outside of Carman Hall waiting for Coley. It’s just two blocks away.”

  “But you knew it was Pryana?”

  “Her sequined dress was very distinctive; it stood out under the street lamps.”

  “Were you alone when you saw her?”

  “Yes.”

  “For how long were you alone?”

  “Just a couple of minutes. The car I was waiting on showed up.”

  “Long enough to follow her into The Wit offices?”

  “No!”

  “We have a report from a witness that says he saw you approach the building.”

  “What?”

  “One of your fraternity brothers says you were approaching the building when he was driving in front of the offices,” Raymond tells me. “He says he called out to you, but you ignored him.”

  “Who said that?” I shake my head. “The only person that I know of who may have seen me in the area was Asher himself, but I never left the corner of 114th and Broadway. He was with Pryana. Their driver would know. Whatever car service they used, their driver would know.”

  The officers shuffle some papers between them. “It wasn’t Asher. Asher states he was at the hotel all night.”

  “Well, that’s just not true.”

  “He has witnesses who can confirm it, yet you have no real alibis.”

  “What do you mean? I have Coley, who was upstairs in her dorm for maybe ten minutes, packing a bag. I have my driver, who was outside with me for much of that time. I have the coffee shop employee, who can vouch for me there. I’d say I have pretty solid alibis.

  “I know Asher went inside The Wit offices. How long they were there, I don’t know.”

  Yarbrough takes over. “So after Coley packs all her goodies and comes downstairs, you take her to the hotel. You said you hung around for ten to twenty minutes, huh?”

  “Twenty, tops,” I state.

  “Were you feeling a little lonely?” he says, suggesting something less than honorable.

  “No.”

  “Was she a little bit of a tease? Did she get your juices flowing while you were there? She kicked you out, didn’t she? Because it doesn’t make sense that you’d just give her your room and go home.”

  “That’s exactly what I did, though. I gave her the room.”

  “No,” he says. “That doesn’t add up. The way I see it is that you wanted something from her, you got a little something-something started, and she shut you down–and shut you out of your own room.”

  “No,” I reiterate.

  “And then you went looking for someone else to finish the job.”

  I glance over at Raymond, wondering if he thinks this is actually what happened. I’m starting to feel more like an actual suspect and less like someone who’s trying to help with the case. I’m starting to feel like the decision to speak without a lawyer present was a bad idea. But I have the DVD at home.

  “No. My driver dropped me off at home.”

  “Did you make any stops?”

  “No. You can call my driver and again, I have security footage that proves I
was in my apartment all night. I didn’t leave there until around noon.”

  “Well, what did you do when you got home Saturday night?” Raymond asks.

  “I, uh… I drank a little and spoke with Coley on the phone. After that, I went to bed and slept.”

  “What time did you get up Sunday morning?”

  “The first time? Around nine, I guess. I took some aspirin and went back to bed until eleven.”

  “Sleeping off a hangover?” Yarbrough asks.

  “Yeah, I was.”

  “So you drank more than you’re letting on?”

  “When I got home, I had four drinks in quick succession.”

  “Sounds like a frustrated man to me,” Raymond suggests.

  “Or a man who knows something he wants to forget,” Yarbrough adds.

  “Look. I’ve told you everything I know from that night.” I’m so angry at whoever made the suggestion to them that I was approaching The Wit offices. I can’t help but think Asher had something to do with it. I think back to my lunch with him today and remember how he’d so blatantly and easily lied to me, and then I remember what he’d done the following morning. “There is one more thing. I had lunch with Asher today. He admitted he’d stopped by my hotel room yesterday morning around seven. Coley said he was pounding on the hotel room door and still in his tux. She said he was at least drunk when she answered. She was terrified of him.”

  “At seven?”

  “She checked out shortly after. At seven-thirty-five.”

  The detectives look at one another.

  “Coley told you this?”

  “Yeah. She said he was looking for me. He doesn’t know I wasn’t there. Thankfully.”

  “Okay, Trey. We’ll need to see this DVD you’re talking about,” Raymond says.

  “I have a copy at my apartment.”

  “No, we’ll need the number for your security company.”

  I nod my head. “My dad handles that.”

  “I have a message that says your dad is here, so… we’re finished with you for now. Thanks for your cooperation. Can we trust you’ll stay close by while we conduct this investigation?”