Free Dead Even by Emma Brookes

man, since it was still light out when she had been abducted. Damned idiot! Mike reached for his cigarettes, irritation mounting. Better take a refresher course, asshole! Severe trauma can cause memory loss, in case you’ve forgotten!
    There was a copy of the interview with Audra’s roommate, Carrie Wilson. She stated that the two girls had helped with registration all afternoon, then Audra changed into her running suit in the women’s restroom. She sent her purse and clothing back to the dorm with Carrie, promising to meet her for dinner at seven. When she had failed to return by nine, Carrie had contacted the dorm mother, who called the police. At eleven-thirty, Carrie had been called to the hospital to see if the girl who was brought in was her friend. She had been accompanied by the dorm mother, who had only taken the position for the second semester, and would not be able to make the identification.
    There was a report from another student, who stated he spoke with Audra briefly outside the library where she was doing her routine stretching exercises. He remembered telling her there was a storm moving in, and that she should stay close to campus. There was a notation that the officers had no way of knowing whether Miss Delaney followed his advice—no indication as to where or how the assailant came into contact with her.
    The rest of the report was just basic police work. A heavy snowstorm had moved in around midnight, obliterating any evidence they might have found in the area. The attack had taken place in a remote area, only reachable by a winding dirt road. Had it not been for the two teenagers who used the spot as a necking place, Audra’s body would probably have not been discovered until spring. Either the assailant knew the area, or had gotten mighty lucky.
    The Lawrence police had questioned all known sex offenders, several transients, and a few college boys, with no success. They had never received a solid lead in the case, and the investigation was still open on their books.
    The initial report from the psychiatrist suggested Audra had some form of amnesia about that night. He further stated that it might take months, or years for her to remember—if she remembered at all. His report to the police advised them to back off, because the subject was in danger of going clear over the edge mentally. His recommendation was for extensive therapy.
    Mike lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply. What the hell had happened that night? Something more than the rape and stabbing? Something so awful that even after ten years Audra couldn’t face it?
    *   *   *
    That night Audra dreamed again. She was being chased by a man wearing a hideous Halloween mask. “Say you love me,” he kept yelling. Then he was on her, pawing at her, ripping her clothing. She tried to scream, but something forced its way around her neck, making it hard to breathe. The man in the Halloween mask danced around her, chanting. She tried to understand what he was saying but it was garbled, like a record played on the wrong speed.
    She wanted to run but her legs wouldn’t move. The man came up close to her and she could smell his sour breath and see his insane eyes shining with anticipation. She reached up to pull the mask from his face, and his head came off in her hands. She awoke screaming.

Chapter SIX
    Early Sunday morning, Mike rang the doorbell of the fashionable ranch style home located on the east side of the city. It had been easy enough to trace the phone number. It belonged to a Howard Simpson, age fifty-two, an insurance salesman who had lived in Hays for twenty-one years. He had no record, belonged to several area civic clubs, and every year supported the police carnival held for underprivileged children, even running some of the booths on occasion. Markham had warned them to go slow, make no accusations. With nothing more to go on than a voice identification of a ten-year-old crime,