THE RED SECOND HAND on Dr. Geoffrey Bernard’s wall clock just swept past 8:00 pm. Lights around the campus—and all over the city—were blinking on. Dr. Bernard’s eyes, on the other hand, were nearly blinking shut as he finished marking up his fifteenth term paper of the night. Again he swore to himself that collegiate writing got worse every year.
His head jerked up as the speaker next to the black desk phone announced a call on line one. Rubbing his eyes, he grabbed the heavy receiver, punched the blinking light on the base to connect.
“Professor Bernard speaking.”
“Geoffrey Bernard?”
“Yes, this is Geoffrey Bernard.”
“This is Sergeant McAllister, 26th District, Chicago Police Department.”
Geoffrey’s eyes were fully open now as he straightened in his desk chair.
“You still there, professor?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. How can I help you, sergeant?”
“Professor Bernard, is your wife’s name Madeline Bernard?”
“Yes, yes it is. Why . . . what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, Professor Bernard. I have some bad news. Your wife, Madeline, is in the emergency room at Mercy General. She was apparently attacked while waiting for a bus outside her office about forty minutes ago.”
Geoffrey’s throat went tight as he nearly dropped the receiver.
“Mr. Bernard? Professor? Do you have means to get to the hospital? Otherwise, the female Lieutenant who’s currently getting your wife’s statement and the rape kit and such can arrange for transportation.”
“Eh? Uh, no. No, I can get there on my own, thanks. I can . . . ” he trailed off as he stared vaguely around his office.
Rape? Rape! The word echoed in his head. Oh my God!
Unconsciously, his body propelled itself down the hall, mumbling something in passing to the department secretary who had stayed late to help him wrap up end-of-semester paperwork. In minutes which felt like hours, he was at the door of the hospital.
* * *
As he peered through the narrow opening in the thin cotton privacy curtain separating his wife from other Emergency Department patients, Geoffrey Bernard expected to see the back of a doctor’s white coat or a nurse’s surgical scrubs. Instead, he saw the black leather duty belt of a female patrol officer, equipped with handcuffs, baton, mace, and service revolver.
“Yes, officer, I’m pretty sure there were only three of them.” His wife Madeline’s voice.
He burst through the curtain, stepped swiftly to her side and she sat up to embrace him.
“Oh, Geoffrey!” Her tears wet his shoulder.
“I’m here. I’m here. It’s alright now.”
They held each other until the police officer had to gently interrupt, identifying herself and confirming her assumption that he was Madeline Bernard’s husband.
“Yes, I’m Geoffrey Bernard.”
“Mr. Bernard, I should probably talk to you out in the hallway. The nurse has a few more things for your wife.”
“That’s fine. Honey, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Oh . . . alright . . . ” Madeline replied, reluctantly releasing her grasp on his hand.
* * *
“Mr. Bernard, your wife has been through a lot . . . “
“I still need to finish processing her . . . “
“I should never have let her work late, but it’s tax season . . .”
“I know it’s difficult for both of you, but in order for us to apprehend the perpetrators of this attack, and prevent other women from experiencing the same thing your wife is going through, we have certain procedures to follow. They may be difficult . . . for both of you . . . but I assure you, they are necessary.
“You will also be asked at a later date, assuming we can make an arrest, to appear in court to testify . . .”
“Testify . . . ?”
“Yes, and that may actually be the hardest part of this ordeal.”
Read Chapter 1