Blood Ties (20 page)

From Harvey or Helen or Jimmer or whoever. If you’re expecting some tough chick with a heart of gold, picking fi ghts and getting kicked out of bars in the quest for justice, you’ve got me pegged wrong. I’m not tough, just screwed up enough to defi nitely not be yours, or anybody else’s type.”

“No. You’ve got it wrong.”

“How so?” Ash scattered over the table as I waved my cigarette. “You don’t know me, so let me fi ll you in on all the nasty details.” I dragged deeply and blew the smoke right in his face.

He didn’t even blink.

“I’m a shitty person. No one likes me, including my family. I’ve got few friends because of my big mouth. I smoke too much, drink too much, and cuss like a fucking sailor. I barely eke out a living at my dead-end job, and 207

the only woman I know with lousier taste in men is my dead mother.”

Tony didn’t move, neither did his gaze. I, on the other hand, had the urge to wriggle out of the booth and run like hell.

“Nice try,” he said with a sexy smirk, “but I don’t buy it. Don’t kid yourself, either. Few men would have the balls to tangle with Dick and Helen and Roger and Harvey all in one night. You did. Why? I’m guessing it
is
some perverse sense of justice for Samantha Friel that has nothing to do with the fact you’re a
secretary
with the sheriff ’s department. And, I’m also betting you won’t quit until you fi nd whatever it is you’re searching for, regardless of the personal consequences. Most people wouldn’t bother. Th at

alone makes you diff erent.”

“Yeah, as in
bad
diff erent.”

“Doubtful. But bad is very good for me. Actually, I prefer it.” He grinned in that cocky, dangerous manner that so few men pull off . “Jimmer warned me about you.”

“Yeah? What did he say?”

“I’d either end up killing you,” he said, touching my face with reverence, “or sleeping with you.” Gently he brushed his fi ngertips over my bruised jaw, down my chest, grazing his knuckles back and forth over the exposed skin of my cleavage before he elegantly slipped from the booth.

“You guess which option appeals to me.”

Shit.

208

“Consider what I’ve said, blondie. Focus your attention beyond Dick Friel.”

“But . . .”

“No buts. I’ll be in touch. Soon.”

And he was gone.

Sobered up by bad coffee and Tony’s words, I replayed our conversation, reluctantly skipping the off er of becoming his biker mama. Since Dick Friel was my only suspect, I didn’t buy into Tony’s testimonial. Notes I’d scrawled on bar napkins didn’t make sense. Th

e only conclusion I

reached was that we needed to meet with Shelley as soon as possible.

Th

e next morning, Kevin still hadn’t returned my calls.

I made an executive decision to tackle the Shelley situation on my own. Since non-family visiting hours at the rehab center were Monday mornings and Th

ursday afternoons, I

called in sick. I didn’t see an alternative. Waiting four more days to question Shelley wouldn’t help anyone.

Once I entered the rehab center, I knew the drill. Sign in, hang out, and wait. When I was ushered into a small, bland conference room, the blue air didn’t hide Shelley’s 210

black mood.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here. I’m to the point I don’t care. Just ask your goddamn questions and leave.”

“Good.” I jerked the padded chair away from the table, turned it around to straddle it. “Let’s cut the bullshit right now. Why did you lie?”

“What do you mean ‘why did I lie’? About what?”

“About everything, it seems. Did you really think we wouldn’t fi nd out that you’d hired Charles LaChance?”

Th

e pinched lines around her mouth deepened. “How’d you fi nd out?”

I shrugged. “Th

ey don’t call us private dicks for nothing.” My teeth fl ashed in a non-grin. “So, why? You said you couldn’t stand him.”

“I didn’t hire him. I didn’t sign a contract or anything.

He was looking into some things . . .”

“Th

ings like fi nding out if Samantha’s biological father would be forced to pay back child support?”

Th

e blood drained from her face. “Who told you that?”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to know why that snake was working for you
before
Sam turned up dead.”

Flustered, she automatically reached for her cigarettes, forgetting that she’d left one burning in the ashtray.

I pulled the pack from her grasp at the last second, fi guring I’d get her undivided attention. “Which leads me directly to lie number two. Why did you tell us you’d been raped?”

211

She directed her glower out the window. “I was raped.”

In the silence an angry, fat fl y beat his body against the glass, repeatedly trying to get out. I knew the feeling.

My head began to buzz and my thin patience snapped.

“Come on, Shelley. I haven’t got all day.”

More

silence.

“It didn’t happen like you said, did it?”

Finally, she muttered, “Th

ink you’re so goddamned

smart. How did you know?”

“Does it matter?”

“Guess not.” Th

e gaze that fl icked me top to bottom

bordered on revulsion. “But I thought
you
would understand.”

I didn’t rise to the bait. “Again. Why did you lie?” My conscience called me every foul name in the book, but I demanded, “Tell me.” When she lifted her head my direction, I steeled myself against the tears dripping from her weedy chin.

“I was raped,” she repeated. “Th

at wasn’t a lie. But, not

by a group of guys. By one.”

By the way she was dragging this out I knew that wasn’t all. And, I hadn’t heard the worst.

“While another one watched,” she added.

Th

e coff ee in my stomach curdled. “You knew who he was, didn’t you?”

“Not at fi rst.” She swiped the tears, a surprisingly delicate mannerism. “Th

e coat and pick-up part happened

212

like I’d told you. I passed out for a little while. But then I came to.”

“What do you remember?”

“Besides being scared shitless, thinking I was going to die?” She squeezed her eyes shut.

I knew she’d fallen back into the grotesque memory, but I could do nothing but watch, wait, and hope for this horror to end quickly for both of us.

“At some point while I’d blacked out they’d tied my hands above my head, blindfolded me, and shoved a gag covered with my own vomit in my mouth. I woke up when I felt rocks digging into my bare back. I remember hoping maybe I’d slept through the worst part, maybe they’d already left.” She cupped her palms over her shoulders to stop the tremors. “Th

en, I heard it.”

“What?”

“Grunts. Didn’t know what it was at fi rst. Th en, I

recognized the sounds of sex. Not the kind I was used to.

When it was over . . . and they came closer, I pretended I was still passed out. But they started to argue, saying disgusting things to each other . . . and I guessed what was next.”

“Who are they?”

She ignored my question. “He raped me. While the other guy watched and made sick remarks.”

Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask,
my brain chanted, but the words fi lling my mouth tasted like gravel and I had no 213

choice but to spit them out. “What did they say?”

“Th

e one humping me wanted to prove he wasn’t a fag. Told the other guy if he could get it up for an ugly dog like me, then whatever happened between them didn’t mean shit. He was no cocksucker. After he fi nished with me, he taunted him. Telling the other guy how good fucking a woman was compared to . . ” Her red-rimmed eyes fi nally opened. “Well, you can guess what he said.

When he got another hard on, he raped me again. Two more times, actually.”

I lit one of Shelley’s cigarettes and passed the pack back over. We smoked in the most hellish silence I’ve ever experienced. I’d sucked so much nicotine into my lungs I felt woozy. Sick. But the tough questions still needed to be asked and I needed to toughen up to get through them, even though I’d rather crawl under the table and cry.

“Did these guys leave you then?”

Her short, harsh laugh twisted my innards. “I wish.

No, evidently the act of taking me against my will turned the other guy on.”

Blood rushed to my face. I managed to say, “And they . . .”

“Fucked like dogs. It was immoral, the things I heard them doing to each other.” She dragged the cigarette down to the fi lter in one inhale. “Afterward, they propped me against a tree, took off the gag, and forced me to drink Jack Daniels until I passed out again.” She shuddered. “Never 214

could stomach the stuff after that. Hell, I couldn’t suck down a shot of Jack if my life depended on it. Anyway, when I woke in the morning, they were gone, my hands were untied, and my pants were on the ground.”

“But, you knew who they were?”

She spoke to her ragged fi ngernails, “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you turn them in?”

“Because they had it all worked out. Warned me if I told anyone, they’d claim that I begged them to take me home and wanted to do them both.” Her chin trembled.

“God, everybody already thought I was a whore. How many people saw me drunk that night? No one would’ve believed me anyway.”

Rage brightened the room around me to vivid red.

Surely, if she knew them, and had gone to the police immediately, her accusations and the physical evidence would’ve sent him to jail. Who was she protecting?

“And you believed them?”

“At that point I didn’t know what to believe,” she said quietly.

I got up and poured us each a glass of water. Shelley left hers untouched and picked the cuticle on her thumb until it bled. Th

en, she moved on to the next hand. At this rate her fi ngers would be nothing but bloody stumps. I fl ung her a Kleenex.

“Did you tell the counselor this? Th

at you knew your

attackers?”

215

“No.”

“Samantha?”

Her eyes went wide.

“Charles

LaChance?”

Silence.

“Jesus, Shelley. You didn’t give LaChance that information? Especially when you told me you hadn’t signed a contract with him?” I deliberately softened my tone. “You do realize then that nothing you said to him was privileged information?”

She started to cry again, this time without fragility.

Huge, wet tears ran in rivulets through the grief etched in her gaunt face. “He came here after Sam told David about the rape. Reminded me he was at the fair that night. He started naming names, hinting around if I knew who did it, I should make the guy pay. Either with his reputation or with cash. He said he could help me. But I didn’t tell him.

I swear to God I didn’t.”

Th

en, it clicked. “Why did he show up at your house?

Did he tell Sam that you knew who’d raped you?”

Th

rough a watery blink, she refocused. “Charles LaChance was at my house? When?”

“I guess the day Sam came out here and caused a scene.

She didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

She started picking the cuticle again. It annoyed me, but at least she wasn’t pacing. “Why wouldn’t she . . .”

216

“What else do you want?” Shelley snarled. “When Sam showed up she was furious, but mostly she was hysterical.

Couldn’t understand a fucking word she said. Finally, I just couldn’t stand
her
. I told the counselors to keep her away from me.”

“So, the next time you saw her?”

“Th

at was the last time I saw her.”

My mind’s eye saw poor Samantha causing a scene and wanting her mommy. Only Mommy didn’t want her. My skin crawled. David had been right. No one gave a shit about Samantha Friel.

I

did.

Seemed my burden was to fi nd justice for the dead.

But Eve Dallas I wasn’t, and without Shelley telling me the whole truth, this case would remain as dead in the water as Samantha.

I opened my mouth to speak but Shelley beat me to the punch.

“Don’t think I’ll just up and tell you who raped me.

I won’t tell anyone else. Not now, not ever.” Her fi st beat into the table, until the water pitcher bounced to the ma-roon carpet with a muffl

ed splash.

“Fuck you for coming here and fuck me for telling you more than I should have. It’s too late. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Don’t come back again.” She swept from the room with her head held high.

Dismissed again. I was getting mighty sick of it.

217

I went home and called Kevin. He promised to swing by after clearing his Monday pile of paperwork. I didn’t even want to think about the stuff piled on my desk. Missy wouldn’t do a damn thing. Guilt fi lled the black chasm inside me, making my stomach churn. I slipped into my pajamas and crawled back in bed. No one had to know the sickness I suff ered from was the mental variety.

Th

e heavy pounding on the door roused me from dreams worse than reality. I tossed back the fl annel sheets and shuffl

ed sleepily to open the door, expecting Kevin.

Ray stood on the steps. Anger shimmered around him like a hive of pissed off bees.

“Where is he?” he said, knocking me and the fl owered welcome mat aside as he bulled his way into my house, metal jogging against metal in his canvas tool belt.

“Where is who?”

He spun around, giving me a disdainful once over.

“Don’t fuck with me, Julie. I’m not in the mood.”

“What the hell is your problem? Why aren’t you at work?”

“I’d ask you the same question, ‘cept I know the answer. You called in sick today. Where is he?”

He stalked toward my bedroom but I grabbed his sleeve. “For the last goddamn time, Ray, who?”

218

“Th

e guy you were with at Dusty’s yesterday.”

Crap. Figure the odds that someone had seen me drinking with Tony Martinez. Double the odds that someone like Pat had informed Ray. No easy way out of this sucker. I waved my hand, deciding nonchalance was my best bet. “It was nothing. Just a guy with some information about the case Kevin and I are working on.”