Free Date Rape New York by Janet McGiffin Page B

had thrust at her. She had listened with dark, sad eyes while Grazia related all that she had gone through in the emergency room. Now she turned her attention to the message.
    Grazia shook her head, baffled. “All I remember is holding a glass of champagne. Then I woke up here this morning.”
    “You still don’t remember how you got back to the hotel?”
    “I had a nightmare about an old lady shrieking, ‘Jacky! Bite!’ then I actually met an old lady and her dog, Jacky, outside the hospital.” She explained about Mrs. Springer’s belief that Jacky could identify the man. “And Manuel must have seen the man who brought me back to the hotel. Manuel could describe him to a police artist, and he could do one of those drawings.”
    Sophia gripped her arm. “Grazia, forget finding this terrible man. There’s no way to punish him, not in our world. It could be worse. You could be pregnant. This same thing happened to someone I know and she got pregnant.”
    “I’m not pregnant. I took the morning-after pill.”
    “Women will always suffer when there’s sex involved. That’s why we’re born stronger than men. We know how make something better from our suffering.”
    Grazia paced the room. “Detective Cargill thinks that the man who attacked me could be a Italian tourist or here on business. He thinks he’s staying near the Brazilian Bar because people don’t go far for a drink in deep snow. Once, you told me that a lot of Italians work in hotels around here. Could you ask them to check their registration books? We’re looking for a single man, Italian, medium height, registered Saturday night.”
    “You’re hoping for a miracle, but I will ask,” she sighed with resignation.
    “And tell housekeeping to take that round table out of this room.”

 
    Chapter 8
     
    After Sophia left, it was four o’clock. Grazia double-locked the door and attached the chain. Feeling shattered, like an explosion had blown her apart, she collapsed on the bed. The muscles in her arms and legs twitched. When she tried to relax, thoughts flitted through her head like frenzied mosquitoes with high-pitched whines: “You were raped. You were drugged.” The whines grew louder. “Lost your memory, no one will want you.” She shook her head to drive them away, but the motion made the room swing. She sat up, rubbing her ears. “Food!” she said aloud. “Eat. That’s what Detective Cargill told you to do. He even ordered you lunch.”
    The round table was out of the question; she felt sick just looking at it. She sat on the floor, broccoli wrap between her outstretched legs, drinking the tomato-carrot soup from the carton. Afterward, the headache and nausea were gone, but she felt exhausted. Her eyelids kept closing. But as soon as she lay down on the bed, the mosquito whine came again. Her jaw clenched. Her hands balled into fists; she loosened one and the other tightened. A knot of fear moved from her stomach to her chest. A tap on the door brought her bolt upright. Heart thudding against her ribs, she threw herself at the peephole. A man’s face loomed; the shadow of another lurked behind him.
    “What do you want!” she shrieked.
    “Housekeeping. We came for the table.”
    “Go away! I’ve changed my mind.” She glued her eye to the peephole until they had drifted off, joking in Italian. She jammed a chair under the handle, then her knees went weak and she dropped to the floor, face in hands.
    Hot bath—that’s what Cindy had recommended to relax her. Besides, she needed to clean herself. Her body felt filthy and tainted. She opened the bathtub taps, holding her hand under the rushing water. The sound drowned the mosquito whine. Emptying a bottle of liquid soap into the tub, she watched the rising bubbles. They calmed her. She lowered herself into the hot water, at first going all the way under, then only her face above the surface. For a long time, she lay still, feeling the water gently tug her hair and the bubbles