Chapter 8

7.3K 325 13
                                    

Chantale wasn't particularly good at the morning after and probably should have thought of that before hopping into Declan's bed. Before the sun had even risen, she'd slipped out, heading back to her room. She slid into the shower with the water as hot as she could tolerate, trying to wash off the night before.

Physically, last night had been, frankly, boring. Declan was, without question, a considerate lover, but there hadn't been a spark. For a man who oozed sex appeal, the sex had been distinctly unappealing. So now what? Would he expect her to get into his bed again? Obviously she should have thought this through a bit better. It was just she had never thought sex with Declan would be tedious. Last night he'd managed to coax an orgasm from her, but she wouldn't guarantee it would happen again. Which would be a disappointment because she liked her orgasms. Over the years she'd been with a few guys who cared only about their own pleasure, but some had been willing to give as much as they had expected in return. Chantale knew what she liked, but she'd been too afraid to ask for it. The result had been bland.

Was there something wrong with her? Had Colton been right? How had Rielle put it? That Chantale enjoyed physical exertions. Well there was nothing wrong with that. Life was too short not to get some enjoyment out of it.

Or so she told herself as she slipped into jeans and a sweater. She had almost convinced herself that everything would be okay when she went to the kitchen. Declan wasn't there so she put on a pot of coffee. Then she began to put together a game plan in her mind.

By the time the coffee was brewed, she had a good idea of where she wanted to start. Taking her mug of fragrant liquid into the dining room, she sat in front of the box of evidence. She was going to read each of the women's statements in the order the police had taken, which was not the order in which they'd occurred. One of the victims had waited more than three days before coming forward. Truthfully, it was amazing all of the women had come forward. Chantale knew the statistics of victims of rape speaking up. Many women didn't report. Shame, humiliation, fear, all emotions which played into the decision. Yet these women had come forward. Had there been more? Women who hadn't spoken up, even after Declan had been arrested? That thought added another dimension to the investigation.

Chantale wrote out each name and the date of the rape. Then she went ahead and pinned each one on Declan's pristine wall. Nothing to be done about it now, she thought. Then she walked along the line, noting that the time between each crime had been steadily decreasing. Chantale would have wondered if rushing things might have made him sloppy, but the rapist had only gotten more vicious.

"What do you see?"

Chantale shot Declan a look, noting his crisp white shirt, dark slacks, polished shoes. He looked like he was heading into work instead of being cooped up in his own home. Why bother, she thought. He didn't need to impress her. He sipped his tea and she went back to the wall.

"I'm thinking that this must have been a full-time job for this guy. He went through your class list picking out the youngest women. Then he scouted them to find out which ones lived alone. Then he planned his move, making sure they were alone the night he broke in. He knew all four didn't have security systems. He knew how and when to hit. All that takes planning and, in the end, there was only eight days between the second-to-last and last rape.

"To that end, where did he find the addresses? None of the women reported noticing someone following them or anyone hanging out near their homes. None remembered strange vehicles and none of the neighbours reported anything unusual. Whoever this guy is, he blends in. He's average. Ordinary." She paused. "He's also tall, which could have been a trigger to the women's memories, but it wasn't. Autumn estimated the guy to be over six feet and over two hundred pounds. Even if she's off by a few inches and pounds, he's still a big guy. How do you miss a big guy?"

The Professor's DefenderWhere stories live. Discover now