"Oh my God!"
"What happened?"
"Can someone help this poor girl?"
As the crowd murmured in alarm, Jack quickly approached, removing his jacket to cover the girl lying on the floor.
"FBI! Please step back and give her some air," Hannah said, helping to clear the area.
"How is she?" Rick Castle crouched beside Jack, who was examining the girl's injuries.
Alexis, who had somehow managed to find a clean white towel, dampened it with bottled water and handed it over.
"Please, help her. She's my daughter! Oh God, what did she go through?" The girl's father, panic-stricken, kept fumbling with his phone, his blood-stained fingers unable to unlock the screen.
"Something terrible happened to her, but she doesn't seem to be in life-threatening danger. It's best not to move her. I'll contact CSI—the evidence collection right now is crucial," Jack said gently. Noticing the father's dazed state, he glanced at Rick for assistance.
Rick nodded, understanding Jack's meaning, and gently placed a hand on the father's shoulder. "Mr. Peacock, right now, the best thing you can do is stay calm."
After Mr. Peacock regained some composure, Rick whispered a few words to him.
"Okay, thank you, Mr. Castle…and you too, kind sir." Mr. Peacock covered his mouth, choking back a sob, as if he could hardly believe what had happened to his daughter.
Ten minutes later, an ambulance arrived. After examining Robin, the medics administered an IV drip. Meanwhile, the NYPD and CSI teams arrived on the scene.
Leading the NYPD response was Detective Kate Beckett—a striking woman with short red hair, dressed in a trench coat that accentuated her long legs, leaving Rick Castle momentarily stunned.
"Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. Who's in charge here?"
Alexis gave her dad a firm nudge, propelling him a couple of steps forward toward Detective Beckett.
"I'm Rick Castle. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The Rick Castle?" Kate Beckett looked intrigued, as if she'd heard of him before.
"Uh, I believe so." Rick pointed back at the banners and life-size cutouts promoting his book signing event behind them.
As Rick introduced himself, Jack and Hannah were briefing CSI personnel Mac Taylor and his deputy, Stella Bonasera.
"The victim's name is Robin Peacock. Her father said they planned to attend Rick Castle's book signing together. She lives alone in an apartment on 50th Street and 32nd Avenue," Jack explained.
"Additionally, Mr. Peacock is a publisher, and Robin works at his publishing house."
Mac Taylor shone his flashlight over the bloodstains on the ground as they walked forward. "Did the victim give any details about the assault?"
"No. She's not fully conscious. She has head injuries, which caused most of the bleeding, along with extensive bruises and scrapes. I can't yet determine whether her memory loss is due to a concussion or psychological trauma caused by the assault.
"It took me several attempts just to get her to say her own name," Jack replied.
They stopped at a staircase near a fountain, with Central Park looming darkly behind it.
"So the incident happened in Central Park," Mac said, glancing at the shadowy expanse of the park. Jack sighed in agreement; Central Park, covering 843 acres, would be a daunting place to pinpoint the exact location of the assault.
As Jack and Mac discussed, Hannah and Stella documented every trace of Robin's path from the banquet hall. Outside, they found her bloody handprint on the hood of a parked Lincoln limousine. Robin was also missing a high heel, but despite their search, it remained unfound.
"So, will the FBI be involved in this case?" Mac looked at Jack, who then glanced at Hannah. She was watching the ambulance depart, her expression showing deep concern for Robin.
"We'll assist as needed, provided the NYPD has no objections," Jack replied. Although the FBI didn't technically have jurisdiction over the case, he could tell Hannah wouldn't easily let go.
Fortunately, their supervisor, Dana Morje, had granted them flexibility. As long as the NYPD agreed, they could lend a hand on regular cases when no priority tasks required their attention.
"I have no objections to the FBI assisting. But what's the deal with this guy?" Beckett asked, glancing at Rick Castle with suspicion.
"Mr. Peacock and his daughter were my guests at the event. I feel obligated to help the police however I can." Rick's words barely left his mouth before Kate Beckett interrupted him.
"Thanks for your offer, Mr. Castle, but this is police work. If we need you, we'll reach out."
"Okay, here's my card." Rick's hand, holding his card, hovered awkwardly in the air as he watched Detective Beckett turn and walk away with a brisk, confident stride.
Whatever they had just discussed, it was clear Rick hadn't made the best impression on Detective Beckett.
"So, what's the plan? Do we search Central Park thoroughly to find the crime scene?" Beckett cut right to the heart of the issue, showing she was far from a mere bystander.
"Let's start by examining the victim's clothes. Stella, go to the hospital and get her clothes to the lab as soon as possible. Analyzing any trace evidence on the clothing might help narrow down the location," Mac suggested.
Jack glanced at the shadowy park in the distance, as dense as a small forest, and added, "My partner Hannah can go to the hospital too. Once the evidence is collected, she can take it to the lab directly. Your people may still need to conduct a medical examination, right?"
It was evident that Robin had been sexually assaulted. This was why Hannah had kept the crowd at bay, preventing anyone from taking invasive photos of the injured girl.
The open-minded American attitudes toward sex didn't mean victim-blaming wasn't rampant. In fact, "slut-shaming" was prevalent here. One only had to consider the gymnastic team doctor who got away with his crimes for decades to understand the pervasive, complex issues surrounding victims of sexual assault.
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