The Survivors Club by Lisa Gardner

hell have the police been doing anyway?’ I understand after their first appearance, the AG’s phone didn’t stop ringing for a week.”
    “They gave the crimes a face,” Griffin filled in.
    “The Survivors Club gave the crimes three extremely attractive faces. Ever take Psych 101? People really do judge a book by its cover. Ugly people get what they deserve. Pretty people, on the other hand . . .”
    Griffin nodded. He understood. “They hold a lot of press conferences?” he asked curiously.
    “I don’t know. Five or six.”
    “Always all three women?”
    “
Always
all three women. No individual interviews, they made that clear in the beginning.”
    “What about their families?”
    Maureen shrugged. “Sometimes you saw Carol Rosen’s husband or Meg Pesaturo’s mother in the background, but the press conferences were very clearly the women’s show. After all, they were the ones viciously attacked while the Providence cops sat on their asses for six weeks.”
    “They’re bitter?”
    “My words, not theirs.”
    “Emotional?”
    “Sometimes. Not often. More like . . . focused. For each venue, the Survivors Club had clear demands. For example, when they held a press conference in front of the PPD, they were asking for more foot patrols in College Hill. When they were in front of the mayor’s office, they launched an appeal for community policing. In front of the AG’s office, they wanted a more aggressive investigation, get a suspect and get him off the streets, now, now, now. We’re talking a serial rapist, after all, and we all know serial rapists don’t magically stop on their own.”
    “In other words, they whipped the public into a frenzy,” Griffin mused. Oh yeah, he could see that. The Providence detectives had to love those afternoons. Nothing like a public flogging by the very people you were trying to help, to make you feel good about the job. Of course, if it had been the state’s case, they would’ve nailed the guy day one. That went without saying.
    “Eddie Como attacked four women in six weeks,” Maureen said firmly. “He killed one of them. How do you think it must feel to be Jillian Hayes right now, knowing that if the Providence detectives had been paying more attention after the second attack, maybe the third attack never would’ve happened? Maybe her sister would still be alive.”
    “She say that?”
    “She never had to. Just by standing up there, she reminded the public of what happened to her sister and in turn, what could happen to one of their sisters as long as the rapist remained at large. The public responded to that. Hell, the public ate it up. I’ll bet you the women could hold a press conference this afternoon announcing that they’d shot Eddie Como, and no one would bat an eye.”
    “They’re that attractive?” Griffin asked dryly.
    “No!” Maureen rolled her eyes. “They’re that . . . compelling. Think about it. You got Jillian Hayes, the hardworking older sister who runs her own business while taking care of her invalid mother. She’s polished, she’s poised, plus she’s always holding a bright, smiling photo of her younger sister, who was only nineteen when Eddie Como killed her. Then, you have Meg Pesaturo, looking like Bambi, with her big brown eyes and trembling shoulders. Trust me, there’s not a man in this city who can look at her and not want to kill Eddie Como himself. And finally, we have Carol Rosen, a blue-eyed blonde, the socialite wife who on the one hand lives in a mansion, but on the other hand spends her time doing work for local charities. You couldn’t cast a better group if you tried.”
    “A business woman, a college coed and an upper-crust wife. In other words, a little something for everyone.”
    “Exactly.”
    “Each taking turns on the mike,” Griffin murmured.
    “Oh no. Jillian Hayes serves as the spokesperson for the group. She does all the talking.”
    “All the time?”
    “All the time. I’m guessing they have