Faithless (29 page)

“Yes, ma’am,” Roger said. He grabbed Liddy by the arm and practically dragged her toward the road.

“Stupid kids,” Jeffrey muttered.

“Are you okay?”

He sat down on a rock, muttering a low curse, still breathing hard. “I cut my damn foot.”

Sara joined him, aware that she was out of breath herself. “Are you just determined not to get through one day this week without injuring yourself?”

“You’d think,” he allowed. “Christ. They scared the shit out of me.”

“At least it wasn’t…” She didn’t finish the sentence. They both knew what it could have been.

“I’ve got to find out who did this to her,” Jeffrey said. “I owe that to her mother. She needs to know why this happened.”

Sara looked across the lake, trying to find her house- their house. The floodlights had been tripped when they ran outside, and as Sara watched, they blinked off.

She asked, “How’s your foot?”

“Throbbing.” His chest heaved in a sigh. “Jesus, I’m falling apart.”

She rubbed his back. “You’re fine.”

“My knee, my shoulder.” He lifted his leg. “My foot.”

“You left out your eye,” she reminded him, wrapping her arm around his waist, trying to comfort him.

“I’m turning into an old man.”

“There are worse things you can turn into,” she pointed out, though from his silence she could tell he wasn’t in the mood for teasing.

“This case is getting to me.”

All of his cases got to him; it was one of the many things she loved about him. “I know,” she said, admitting, “I’d feel a lot better if we knew where Rebecca was.”

“There’s something I’m missing,” he said. He took her hand in his. “There has to be something I’m missing.”

Sara looked out at the lake, the moon glinting against the waves as they lapped against the shore. Was this the last thing Abby had seen before she’d been buried alive? Was this the last thing Rebecca had seen?

She said, “I need to tell you something.”

“More about your parents?”

“No,” she said, feeling like kicking herself for not telling him this before. “It’s about Cole Connolly. I’m sure it’s nothing, but-”

“Tell me,” he interrupted. “I’ll decide whether it’s nothing or not.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Lena sat at the kitchen table, staring at her cell phone. She had to call Terri Stanley. There was no way of getting around it. She had to apologize, to tell her she would do everything she could to help her. What she would do beyo nd that was a mystery. How could she help her? What could she do to save Terri when there was nothing Lena could do to save herself?

In the hall, Nan shut the bathroom door with a click. Lena waited until she heard the shower running, then Nan’s pained rendition of some pop song that was playing on every radio station, before she flipped the phone open and dialed the Stanleys ’ number.

Since the altercation at the gas station, Lena ’s mind had turned the number into a mantra, so that as her fingers worked the buttons, she had a sense of déjà vu.

She put the phone to her ear, counting six rings before the phone was picked up. Her heart stopped midbeat as she prayed that the person on the other end wasn’t Dale.

Obviously, Lena’s name showed up on the Stanleys ’ caller ID. “What do you want?” Terri hissed, her voice little more than a whisper.

“I want to apologize,” Lena said. “I want to help you.”

“You can help me by leaving me alone,” she replied, her voice still low.

“Where’s Dale?”

“He’s outside.” Terri sounded increasingly frightened. “He’ll be back any minute. He’ll see your number on the phone.”

“Tell him I called to thank you for coming in.”

“He’s not going to believe that.”

“Terri, listen to me-”

“It’s not like I’ve got a choice.”

“I shouldn’t have hurt you.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

Lena winced at the implication. “You need to get out of there.”

She was quiet for a beat. “What makes you think I want to?”

“Because I know,” Lena said, tears coming into her eyes. “Jesus, Terri. I know, okay? Trust me.”

Terri was silent for so long that Lena thought she had hung up.

“Terri?”

“How do you know?”

Lena ’s heart was thumping hard enough to press against her ribs. She had never admitted anything about Ethan to another person, and she still found herself unable to come right out and say it. She could only tell Terri, “I know about it the same way you do.”

Again, the younger woman was quiet. Then Terri asked, “You ever try to get away?”

Lena thought about all the times she had tried to make a break: not answering the phone, avoiding the gym, hiding out at work. He always found her. He always found a way back in.

“You think you can help me?” Terri asked. An almost hysterical note was threaded through the question.

“I’m a cop.”

“Sister, you ain’t nothin’,” she said, harshly. “We’re both drowning in the same ocean.”

Lena felt her words pierce like daggers. She tried to speak, but there was a soft click on the line, then nothing. Lena waited, holding out hope, until the recorded voice of the operator bleated through the receiver, advising her to hang up and try the number again.

Nan came into the kitchen, her natty pink robe tied around her waist, a towel wrapped around her head. “You going to be home for dinner tonight?”

“Yes,” Lena said. Then, “No. I don’t know. Why?”

“I thought it would be nice to talk,” she said, putting the kettle on the stove. “See how you’re doing. I haven’t talked to you since you got back from Hank’s.”

“I’m doing okay,” Lena assured her.

Nan turned to look at her closely. “You look upset.”

“It’s been a rough week.”

“I saw Ethan riding his bike up the driveway just now.”

Lena stood so quick she was dizzy. “I should get to work.”

“Why don’t you invite him in?” Nan offered. “I’ll make some more tea.”

“No,” Lena muttered. “I’m running late.” She was always nervous when Ethan was around Nan. He was too volatile, and she was too ashamed to let Nan see the kind of man she had ended up with.

Lena muttered, “I’ll see you later,” tucking her cell phone into her jacket. She practically ran out the front door, stopping short when she saw Ethan standing at her car. He was pulling off something that had been taped to the driver’s-side window.

She walked down the steps as if her heart wasn’t in her throat.

“What’s this?” Ethan asked, holding up a mailing envelope. She recognized Greg’s handwriting from ten feet away. “Who else calls you Lee?”

She grabbed it from him before he could stop her. “Just about everybody who knows me,” she told him. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come by to see you before work.”

She looked at her watch. “You’re going to be late.”

“It’s okay.”

“Your parole officer told you that if you were late again, she’d write you up.”

“That dyke can kiss my ass.”

“She can send you back to jail is what she can do, Ethan.”

“Chill out, okay?” He made a grab for the envelope, but again she was too quick. He frowned and asked, “What is it?”

Lena saw she wasn’t going to get out of the driveway until she opened the envelope. She turned it over, pulling the tape carefully like she was an old lady trying to save the wrapping paper on a present.

“What is it?” Ethan repeated.

She opened the envelope, praying to God there wasn’t something inside that would cause a problem. She slid out a CD with a blank white label on it. “It’s a CD,” she said.

“A CD of what?”

“Ethan,” Lena began, looking back at the house. She could see Nan peering through the front window. “Get in the car,” she told him.

“Why?”

She popped the hatch so he could stow his bike. “Because you’re going to be late for work.”

“What’s the CD?”

“I don’t know.” She started to pick up his bike, but he took over, the muscles on his arms flexing against his long-sleeved T-shirt. Back in his skinhead days, he had tattooed himself all over with Aryan Nazi symbols, and now he seldom wore anything that would expose them- especially at his job bussing tables at the university coffee shop.

She got into the car, waiting for him to secure the bike and get in. Lena tucked the CD over the visor, hoping he would forget about it. Ethan pulled it out as soon as he settled into the seat.

“Who sent you this?”

“Just a friend.” She told him, “Put on your seat belt.”

“Why was it taped to your car?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to come inside.”

Lena realized she had said “he” about a second after the word left her mouth. She tried to act like it hadn’t happened, putting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway. As she turned back around, she chanced a look at Ethan. His jaw was so tight she was surprised his teeth didn’t start cracking.

Without saying anything, he turned on her radio and pressed the eject button. His Radiohead CD slid out. He held it by the edges, forcing in Greg’s CD as if it was a pill he wanted to shove down somebody’s throat.

Lena felt herself tense as a guitar was strummed, followed by some feedback. The intro took a few seconds, heavy guitar and drums leading up to the unmistakable voice of Ann Wilson.

Ethan wrinkled his nose like there was a bad smell. “What’s this shit?”

“Heart,” she said, trying to keep her emotions flat. Her own heart was beating so fast she was sure he could hear it over the music.

He kept scowling. “I’ve never heard this song before.”

“It’s a new album.”

“A new album?” he repeated, and even though she kept her eyes on the road she could still feel him staring a hole into her. “Aren’t they the ones who were fucking each other?”

“They’re sisters,” Lena said, disgusted that old rumor was still around. Heart had made a huge impact on the rock scene, and invariably, the boys in charge had felt threatened enough to spread nasty rumors. Being a twin, Lena had heard every filthy male fantasy about sisters there was. The thought of it made her sick.

Ethan turned up the volume a notch as she coasted through a stop sign. “It’s not bad,” he said, probably testing her. “Is this the fat one singing?”

“She’s not fat.”

Ethan barked a laugh.

“She can lose weight, Ethan. You’ll always be a stupid bastard.” When he just laughed again, she added, “Like Kurt Cobain was so hot.”

“I didn’t like that faggot.”

“Why is it,” Lena asked, “that every woman who doesn’t want to fuck you is a dyke and every guy who isn’t cool enough to be you is a faggot?”

“I never said-”

“My sister happened to be a lesbian,” Lena reminded him.

“I know that.”

“My best friend is a lesbian,” Lena said, even though she had never given much thought to Nan being her best friend.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” she echoed, slamming on the brakes so hard his head nearly banged into the dashboard. “I told you to put on your fucking seat belt.”

“All right,” he said, giving her a look that said she was being an unreasonable bitch.

“Forget it,” she told him, taking off her own seat belt.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she reached over to open his door. “Jesus Christ, what-”

“Get out,” she ordered.

“What the fuck?”

She pushed him, screaming, “Get the fuck out of my car!”

“All right!” he screamed back, getting out of the car. “You’re goddamn crazy, you know that?”

She pressed the gas pedal to the floorboard, making his door slam from the momentum. She drove maybe fifty feet before hitting the brakes so hard the tires squealed. When she got out of the car, Ethan was walking up the road, his body vibrating with rage. She could see his fists were clenched and spit flew from his mouth as he yelled, “Don’t you ever drive away from me again, you stupid bitch!”

Lena felt amazingly calm as she pulled his bike out of the back of the car and dropped it on the road. Ethan started running to catch up with her. He was still running when she glanced up in her rearview mirror as she turned the corner.

***

“What are you smiling about?” Jeffrey asked as soon as she walked into the squad room. He was standing by the coffee machine, and she wondered if he was waiting for her.

“Nothing,” she told him.

He poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her.

She took it, feeling cautious, saying, “Thanks.”

“You want to tell me about Terri Stanley?”

Lena felt her stomach drop.

He topped off his own cup before saying, “In my office.”

Lena led the way, sweat dripping down her back, wondering if this was finally the last straw for him. The only job she had ever known was being a cop. There was nothing else she could do. Her hiatus last year had proven as much.

He leaned on his desk, waiting for her to take a seat.

He said, “You weren’t at the picnic last year.”

“No,” she agreed, clutching the arms on the chair much as Terri Stanley had done two days before.

“What’s going on, Lena?”

“I thought…” Lena began, not able to finish her sentence. What did she think? What could she tell Jeffrey without revealing too much about herself?

“Is it the alcohol?” he asked, and for a moment she had no idea what he was talking about.

“No,” she said. Then, “I made that up.”

He didn’t seem surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. She let some of the truth come out, a thin stream of air escaping from a balloon. “Dale hits her.”

Jeffrey had been about to take a sip of coffee, but his cup stopped in midair.

“I saw bruises on her arm.” She nodded her head, like she was confirming it to herself. “I recognized them. I know what they look like.”

Jeffrey put down his cup.

“I told her I’d help her get away.”

He guessed. “She didn’t want to go.”

Lena shook her head.

He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think you’re the right person to help her?”

Lena felt the heat of his stare. This was the closest they had come to talking about Ethan since she had started seeing him last year.

“I know he uses his hands on you,” Jeffrey said. “I’ve seen the marks. I’ve seen you coming in with makeup covering the bruises under your eye. I’ve seen the way you cringe when you breathe because he’s hit you so hard in the gut you can barely stand up straight.” He added, “You work in a police station, Lena. You didn’t think a bunch of cops would notice?”

“Which cops?” she asked, feeling panicked, exposed.

“This cop,” he said, and that was all she really needed to hear.

Lena looked at the floor, shame pulsing through every inch of her body.

“My dad used to hit my mom,” he said, and though she had guessed this a long time ago, Lena was surprised that he was confiding in her. Jeffrey seldom talked about anything from his personal life that didn’t connect directly to a case. “I used to get in between them,” he said. “I figured if he was beating on me, he’d have less for her later.”

Lena traced her tongue along the inside of her lip, feeling the deep scars from the many times Ethan had busted the skin. He had broken a tooth six months ago. Two months after that, he had slapped her so hard on the side of the head that she still had trouble hearing things out of her right ear.

“Never worked that way,” Jeffrey said. “He’d get mad at me, beat me to the floor, then he’d haul off on her just as hard. Used to be I’d think he was trying to kill her.” He paused, but Lena refused to look up. “Till one day I figured it out.” He paused again. “She wanted him to,” he said, no trace of emotion in his voice. He was matter-of-fact about it, as if he had realized a long time ago that there was nothing he could do.

He continued, “She wanted him to end it. She didn’t see any other way out.”

Lena felt herself nodding. She wasn’t getting out. This morning was just part of an act she used to convince herself she wasn’t completely lost. Ethan would be back. He was always back. She would only be free when he was finished with her.

Jeffrey said, “Even with him dead, part of me still thinks she’s waiting for it. Waiting for that one hit that knocks the life out of her.” Almost to himself, he added, “Not that there’s much life left.”