ASCENSION

Prologue

“Mayor McKay . . . Mayor McKay,” hollered a beautiful young reporter, stretching out her microphone, following the horde of journalists. Again, she prompted, “Mayor McKay, what’s the city, what are the police doing about this ‘College Rapist’?”

 The robust, frayed-looking man that she addressed turned to look at her, and their eyes made contact across the crowd.

“Ms. Flaherty,” he said sternly, “I thought I made it clear in my press conference that we’re working with very minimal information and even less evidence. We’ve increased patrol in the target area. We’re giving information sessions at the colleges and universities. We’re convening a task force . . . I don’t know what else you expect us to do.”

Turning abruptly away from the crowd, he paused for a moment then turned back. He looked for the eyes that he had last made contact with and said, deflecting the responsibility, “You know . . . we can’t be responsible for everyone. There comes a time when the citizens of our city must be responsible for themselves. If a woman goes to a bar and gets so drunk that she doesn’t know what’s going on around her, maybe the accountability falls there!”

A trembling voice rang out from the crowd, “I was raped by him, and I wasn’t drunk . . . I resent your statement. A woman never deserves to be raped no matter what the circumstances.”

The mayor’s gaze shifted from the reporter toward the voice. The crowd went silent and parted as a young woman wearing a university sweatshirt stepped forward, gripping the mayor in her sights, tears streaming down her face.

“I don’t mean to say a woman deserves to be raped,” he retorted hesitantly. “What I mean is that the police can’t be everywhere. People need to be vigilant so they can keep themselves safe.” He paused briefly and took a deep breath, thinking carefully about the next words he would say. “Students drink. Alcohol inhibits the ability to be aware of your surroundings. It inhibits reaction time. It makes you more vulnerable. There’s more than one rapist in this city, and people, especially women, need to be careful . . . always.”

His appearance changed from annoyance to concern as he looked at the young woman. The awkward, brief silence was broken by another irate voice, this time a man.

“My daughter was assaulted in the subway, and even though she tracked down a cop almost immediately, nothing was done,” said an average-sized man with a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair, standing behind his beautiful young daughter.

The crowd, as though at a tennis match, looked in unison to the man and his daughter, back to the mayor, then back to the man as he continued with his outburst.

He stepped out from behind his daughter, walking toward the mayor with fists clenched, and continued, “Are you going to blame her too?”

The mayor’s entourage stepped in front of him, but he insisted on responding. “I have a daughter too. She rides the subway, and I share your concern for the safety of our public transportation system, but this is not the forum to discuss it.”

The crowd formed a front with the man, supporting him as he demanded, “What is the forum to discuss a young woman being violated? What forum deals with the police not doing their job?”

One of the entourage members took the mayor by the arm, trying to direct him away from the crowd. Mayor McKay stood his ground and answered with a compassionate voice, “I can appreciate your frustration. The system isn’t perfect and never will be. Who is the bad guy here? Not the police. Let’s try to remember that. We’re on the same team! If anyone has information regarding the College Rapist or any other perpetrator, I encourage you to come forward . . .”

Abruptly, the news report on the TV screen was replaced by a Law and Order: SVU rerun as a devious grin lit his face. He put down the TV remote and fondled the cross pendant on his chain. Relaxing in his armchair, satisfied, sipping his beer, he watched Benson and Stabler catch someone . . . someone like him.