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repeatedly in the face. ( Photos courtesy of Marion County Prosecutor’s Office )
    The other questions that came out of this early part of the investigation at Melissa’s apartment were: How did her attacker know she was alone? How could he know that inside her apartment wasn’t a 250-pound linebacker sleeping next to Melissa? If he was simply just taking a chance, it was quite a gamble. Seasoned investigators knew that skilled serial rapists and serial attackers don’t take chances like that. They did other things in order learn about potential victims, instead.
    So, had he stalked Melissa? Had he known her every move? Had he known, for example, that her male roommate had moved out recently?
    A fingerprint and several blood smears attest to the absolute horror Melissa went through, as well as the clumsiness of the attacker, who left behind key pieces of evidence. ( Photos courtesy of Marion County Prosecutor’s Office )

CHAPTER 14
    HOME
    There was no way Melissa could go back to her apartment. The horror of what she left behind would be too much to endure, especially so soon after the attack.
    “When I finally left the hospital after four days, I went to my grandmother’s in Anderson, Indiana,” Melissa recalled. “I thought that would be my safe haven. But my grandmother really didn’t grasp how afraid I was to be alone, especially at night. She, unfortunately, was [not completely healthy herself] and would sometimes leave the house and leave the keys in the front door.”
    Melissa found comfort in television. She still “refused” to fall asleep and would generally drift off during the daytime, taking extended naps when she felt safe.
    “I decided to watch a lot of TV, but couldn’t stomach watching anything dramatic.”
    Thus, Melissa turned to Comedy Central, which was on twenty-four hours a day.

    I also decided to go back to work after about a week. The doctor recommended against it, but I couldn’t stand just sitting there doing nothing. So I went back to work. And, of course, every customer I faced usually had a barrage of questions for me because of the massive bruising, swelling, and stitches. I would explain the situation every time. I had no problem talking about it. Again, it was surprising that I was talking, but somehow I was. I had learned to talk without moving my jaw, kind of enunciating my words.

    After a few weeks of working and answering what became countless questions from customers and friends regarding what had happened, Melissa realized she couldn’t stay in Indiana. She needed to get the hell out; that scene was weighing heavily on her. She’d have to go somewhere else to recover and truly pick up her life again. Part of this was, obviously, an unconscious desire to get away from the memories of where her attack had taken place and the fear of this guy still walking the streets, roaming around. Melissa did not have a good picture of what he looked like, so he actually could be stalking her still and she would never know.
    For all intents and purposes, he could be a customer. Or a coworker? Maybe the guy at the local drugstore she saw from time to time? Perhaps the guy standing next to her at the supermarket? The mailman? The clerk at the dry cleaner’s counter? A former boyfriend? A former roommate?
    Mr. Anybody.
    “I wanted to go home,” Melissa said.
    Originally from Florida, she decided to head south and stay with her father, at least for a while. Her parents had Melissa later in life. Her brother had been eighteen, her sister sixteen, and both her parents in their forties when Melissa came along.
    “So at this point they are already in their sixties and my grandmother is almost ninety,” Melissa explained. “I went. But my dad became even more overprotective than usual under the circumstances, which made it hard to go to the beach or mall.” These were two normal things Melissa looked forward to doing while back home in the Sunshine State.
    As Melissa figured out her