Plain Jane (32 page)

“You’re wrong. All they did was rough her up,” he insisted. “There was another girl with her, probably the witness you were referring to. Find her, ask her. She’ll tell you there wasn’t any rape.”

Jane stood up, furious. “I don’t have to ask her, Brian. I
am
that other girl, and I witnessed the whole thing,” she said, pointing her finger at herself. “Maybe I looked a lot different back then, but I’m telling you, I was there. I know what happened. It wasn’t a mugging. It was rape. Gang rape.” She took a moment to regain control of herself. “Afterward, you all ran away like the cowards you were. I helped Connie back to our dorm and tried to comfort her. But she couldn’t be comforted. She was beside herself with fear and grief and despair. She told me to throw away her clothes, that she didn’t want to be reminded of what happened to her. But I didn’t throw them away, Brian. I put them in a paper bag and kept them. A bag full of DNA. Proof. I even kept the pictures I took of her bruises. Polaroids.” She looked past him at a row of dark purple African violets. Her mind scampered around as she took in their beauty. Every African violet she’d ever bought had died in a couple of months. “Connie made me promise not to tell what happened to her, and all these years I kept that promise. But I’m through keeping it. It’s time justice is served.” She looked down, her eyes meeting his. “When you came to see me that first time, everything that happened that night came back, and it’s been haunting me ever since. A while ago I decided that I couldn’t live with myself anymore until I told what happened.” She took a deep breath and sat back down. “Do you want to tell me how you got that black eye?”

Brian’s expression was grim, his massive shoulders slumped. “I went a couple of rounds with Ben Nolan. He claims to have absolutely no memory of that night. I think he remembers now, though.” His hands clenched into fists. “Don’t get the idea I condone brute force. It was called for, just the way it was called for when you socked Betty’s psychiatrist. To my knowledge no one ever talked about what happened that night. I was only a third-year man then. The others all graduated, but I saw them over the years, and no one ever said a word.” He picked a dead flower off one of his African violets and rolled it between his fingers. “I see Todd Prentice on alumni business all the time. Most of the time all I get is a curt nod. He looks right through me.” He turned sideways on the bench. “I didn’t know Connie died for almost a year. I didn’t find out she took her own life for something like four or five years. I never asked questions. She was out of my league, like the rest of those guys. I swear to God, I did not know. It sure as hell makes sense now, and you’re right about me needing a lawyer. Look, Tony and Mitch knew I left that night. They were busy holding down the other girl . . . you. I met up with them at the library. Marcus is the one who said we had to do one of our brothers a little favor. Son of a bitch!”

“The favor was . . . what?”

“Rough up Connie. Todd was trying to break off the relationship because he’d met this rich girl, but his wedding was like six weeks away. I think the invitations were in the mail or something like that. It was his way of picking a fight with Connie so he would have an excuse to break off the engagement and cancel the wedding. I thought that’s the way it happened since he married Miss Rich Bitch!”

“Maybe that’s what they told you, but that wasn’t what Todd Prentice intended. I went to see Connie’s parents because I was carrying around all this guilt. They gave me some computer disks of Connie’s. Some of them read like a diary. She detailed Todd’s visits, his conversations, his accusations. She said it was like he knew what had happened to her. All those things you said about Betty when you came to me that first time—those were the very things Connie said. She was afraid Todd wouldn’t want her once he knew she’d been raped. She was a victim, just the way Betty was a victim. Now they’re both dead.”

Brian dropped his head into his hands. “What are you going to do, Doc?”

“I’m going to take my evidence to Baton Rouge and turn it over to the police. Then I’m going to call Connie’s parents. I’ll be a witness when it goes to trial. Mr. and Mrs. Bryan aren’t going to sit still for this. Nor should they. Connie was their only daughter, their only child. They had every right in the world to want and expect her life to be happy and to see grandchildren. If I were you, Brian, I’d get your two friends, the two you said didn’t do anything, and make a full confession. Stat. And I’d think about selling your business before the dark stuff hits the fan. There’s going to be a lot of media coverage. A lot of lives are going to be uprooted by what you all did. When you think about it, the only one who benefited from what you all did was Todd Prentice. He got rid of Connie, married a rich wife, and got a position in her daddy’s firm.” Jane’s throat was tight with the emotions she was holding back. Sitting beside her was one of the people who was responsible for Connie’s death and her own years of torment. She should feel nothing but hate for him. Hate and loathing. Ironically, she felt sort of sorry for him. Because his years of torment were just beginning.

“Tell me what to do, Doc.”

“You took the first step by admitting your part in it. Go to the others, tell them the situation, and all of you lawyer up. You need to get there first, Brian, or you’re going to hang by your thumbs. I can testify for you to a point. You are the one who was on the sidelines, right? I didn’t see your face, but I sensed when you left. I didn’t see the faces of the others either. But I bit one of you, clear through to the bone. He should have a dandy little scar on his hand.”

“Oh, Jesus! Is that what that contest was about?”

‘’Uh-huh.”

“I’m scared, Doc.”

“Fear is a healthy emotion. All you have to do is tell the truth. I have to go, Brian. Do whatever you have to do.”

Brian nodded. “Here, take this,” he said, handing her a beautiful African violet. “It’s called Wisteria, because of the color. I gave one to Betty that last day. She loved flowers and green plants.”

Jane accepted the gift and got up to leave. “Yes, she did. Thanks.”

“I don’t mean to scare you, Doc, but if I tell those guys that you’re going to blow the whistle on them, you could be in danger.”

Jane shrugged. “By the time you tell them, my attorney will already have their names and my evidence: the computer disks, the bag of clothes, the pictures, everything. They’d be wise not to get themselves in any deeper than they already are. Get right on it, Brian. Don’t waste time. This is going down as we speak.” Jane took a deep breath and walked outside.

“I don’t understand why you’re giving me an edge. It’s true that I left, but I knew they were planning on roughing Connie up. I was a real prick when I first came to you. I lied to you. I didn’t even show you the respect you deserve. Why?” His broad shoulders were heaving as he breathed.

She walked a few steps ahead of him, thinking. She turned around. “Because you made me take a long, hard look at myself, something I hadn’t been able to do before. I’ve wanted to make this right for a long time. Odd as this may sound, you gave me the guts to do it, and now that tremendous weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders for so long is starting to ease up. If you were on the sidelines, that gives you a bit of an edge. It’s a wonderful feeling, Brian, to have the burden eased.”

Jane looked at the kitchen clock: 7:45
P.M
. It was going to be a long night. Trixie had said she was coming down with a cold and was going to turn in early. Mike was attending a seminar that would go on all evening, so she wouldn’t be seeing him. She looked down at her dinner. Since meeting Mike she’d developed a distaste for eating alone. Olive had gobbled her food and was asleep under the kitchen table. She could go into her office and pay bills, read through Connie’s files again, or she could watch the tube.

Maybe what she really needed to do was sit and think; work out a plan of action. There were at least a hundred phone calls she needed to make. Maybe she should square that away before she did anything else. If Trixie was under the weather tomorrow, too, that would mean she would have to do double duty.

Jane pushed her salad plate to the center of the table. The cup of tomato soup followed. Coffee cup in hand, she headed for her office and the computer. The Bad Dog screen saver popped up. As always, it made her smile. She typed in her password and opened her files. She brought up her “to do” list and typed furiously. Thirty minutes later she scanned her progress. Well diggers would arrive early in the morning. Pending: Connie Bryan . . . all evidence and computer disks to be delivered to police in Baton Rouge by way of her attorney tomorrow. Pending: Mike . . . wedding. Pending: Mother/ rethink destroying house. Pending: Brian. Settled: Todd Prentice. Pending: Other Rapists. Pending: Betty . . . in hands of police.

Jane was about to close the file when the phone rang.

“Dr. Lewis, it’s Brian Ramsey. Tony Larsen and Mitch Iverson stopped by. They want to know if they can talk to you. We can come to you or you can come to my house. I think you know where I live. Yeah, I saw you peeking through my window that night. It isn’t too late, is it? They lawyered up this afternoon.”

Jane hesitated before answering. What would it be like to have three out of the six who had raped Connie in her own house? Mike would tell her she was crazy even to talk to them and that she would be insane to let them come over. But she wasn’t Mike. “You can come by, but I can’t do anything. Make sure you tell them that.”

“I did. They still want to talk to you.”

Jane waited.

When she opened the door, she cringed. They looked just the way she thought they would look. Both men had put on a few extra pounds and both had receding hairlines. Both wore the same panicked expressions. Brian made the introductions.

She invited them into the living room, offered coffee, which they all declined, and sat down on the chair closest to the fireplace. She’d built a fire just after Brian called. A good blaze always gave her comfort.

Olive circled the chairs, her tail between her legs, her eyes alert and wary.

The three of them sat down on the couch. “I just want you to know I didn’t do anything,” Tony Larsen blurted. “Neither did Brian or Mitch. Marcus said Todd wanted Connie roughed up and scared so he could pick a fight with her and get the wedding canceled. That’s what he told
us,
anyway. I didn’t rape Connie, so you won’t find my DNA on anything. Brian split first. Mitch and I right afterward.” He steepled his hands as if praying. “Look, this is going to ruin my family if it gets out. It was a stupid, dumb-ass thing that happened. Connie wasn’t supposed to get hurt. At the time it seemed like we were helping a buddy. Even that was wrong. We should have had more sense. I’m not taking the fall for Marcus, Ben, or Pete, and Todd can go straight to hell. All of us will testify the whole thing was his idea from the git-go.”

“What do you think that’s going to get you? Todd Prentice has a real rich daddy-in-law. He’s going to get the best of the best when it comes to lawyers. His DNA isn’t going to be found. He was probably miles away with sixty witnesses who can testify to that very fact. Guess you know where that leaves you guys.”

“What about the disks you said Connie made? Don’t they make him a suspect?” Mitch asked.

“A smart lawyer would cover that right away,” Jane said.

“He’d say Todd broke the engagement, Connie was despondent, girls keep diaries, and sometimes they’re fanciful. Your buddy, Todd, is going to skate. Isn’t that the term they use on those crime shows?” She felt no pity where these two were concerned. But neither did she feel glad that she’d finally brought them to their knees.

“Won’t you help us?” Mitch Iverson pleaded.

“There’s nothing I can do. As I told Brian, it’s out of my hands. I’ve turned all the evidence over to my attorney, who turned it over to the police in Baton Rouge. And don’t even think about asking me to lie. Connie Bryan’s parents lost their only child, Connie is dead, and I’ve spent the best years of my life plagued with guilt because I felt like I didn’t do enough to help her. Like it or not, gentlemen, you all were part of it, and now it’s time to fess up.” She sat opposite them, clutching a small pillow. “I don’t know anything about the law, but I can tell you that Louisiana is still under the Napoleonic Code as opposed to all the other states, that go by case law. That could be bad for you. I suggest you all get together, talk things out, and see what you can do so you can help yourselves. You know, character witnesses. Job records. That sort of thing. Don’t forget your buddy, Todd, is involved. You might want to put him on notice, too.”

“Listen, Doc, how would you feel about hosting a meeting with all seven of us?” Brian asked.

“To what end, Brian?”

“The rest of them need to hear it all from you. Will you do it, Doc?”

Once a fool, always a fool. “Sure. How about tomorrow night, eight o’clock?”

Three heads nodded. “Okay, I’ll see you all here at that time. Call me if the others don’t agree. Don’t take up my time with just one. It’s all or nothing, and that means Todd, too.”

Jane heaved a sigh of relief when the taillights of Brian’s car faded into the night. It wouldn’t happen. She was almost sure of it. But if it did, she was going to need a plan.

18

The bulldozer and the well diggers’ equipment stood idle as the men stared in dumbfounded amazement at the skeleton resting at the bottom of the well.

“I guess those stories were true after all,” the foreman said. “Tuben, fetch Ms. Lewis. Henry, get me my cell phone so I can call the police.”

Jane wiped her hands on the dish towel as she followed Danny Tuben out to the site of the old well. Tears burned her eyes when she saw the skeleton—Billy Jensen. All she could do was stare while Olive wiggled her way in between her legs, whimpering softly.

“What do you think we should do, ma’am?” the foreman asked. “This is your property. I called the police, but I think they’ll leave the decision up to you. You certainly have enough acreage here to bury the boy’s remains.”

Jane found her voice. “We can’t . . . we can’t just . . . I’ll call . . . what I’ll do is call the funeral home and have them bring out a . . . a coffin and we’ll give him a proper burial in the flower garden if the police say it’s okay. You have the machinery to do that, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am, we can do that. You pick the spot.” He turned to his men. “Don’t disturb anything, guys. The police and the coroner need to do their thing first.”

Jane pointed to the far side of the flower garden. “Right in there, someplace. Did you find a boulder in the well?”

“Sure did, ma’am,” he said, pointing to the back hoe. “It was bigger than a bushel basket. My guess is it’s what killed the boy if it fell on him. Then, of course, he could have drowned.”

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it,” Jane said as she eyed the boulder. “I want you to take it away or smash it up but don’t leave it here. If I have to pay extra, I will. Just do it.” She ran to the house, Olive at her side.

Jane dialed the funeral home first, then Father John. She heard the police siren and wondered what the emergency was. The boy had been dead for over a hundred years. What was the hurry now? She felt like crying.

Every emotion she’d ever felt in her life seemed to attack her at once. She ran through the house calling Billy’s name. After searching the second floor and still not finding him, she gave up. “I think he’s gone, Olive. He’s already crossed to the other side, and we didn’t get to say good-bye. I didn’t think it would happen so quick. I thought there would be time . . .”

Olive dropped to her belly and whimpered.

Jane sat down on the bed and sobbed her misery. What seemed like a long time later, she wiped at her red eyes, then, with Olive at her side, she walked downstairs to open the front door.

Father John was coming up the porch steps. “Don’t you worry, Jane, I’ll take care of everything. The police said it was okay to move the . . . remains, so I’ll lay out the skeleton in the casket and seal it up. Then I’ll say a prayer and we’ll lower it into the ground.”

“His name . . . his name was Billy Jensen,” Jane said, then pressed her hand against her mouth to stop the strangled sounds that were about to erupt.

It was five-thirty when Jane walked away from the flower garden. She felt like she’d lost one of her best friends. The urge to cry was so strong she had to bite down on her lip as she made her way to the old well. The boulder was gone and the hole filled in. The workers were grading the soil as she watched. Piles and piles of rock and brick waited to be carried away. In another hour, the ground would be level and no one would ever know there had once been a well on the spot. Maybe in the spring she’d lay some sod and perhaps plant a shade tree and some flowers around the base. Maybe she could make it look like the old trees on Tulip Street. Billy would like that if he ever came back. He could sit under the tree and watch Jeeter dig up the flowers. When the tears she’d been trying to hold in check burst from her eyes, she ran into the house.

It was late, and she had to get her act together. Since she hadn’t heard from Brian, she assumed the meeting was going to come off on schedule. That meant she had to call Trixie and put her plan into action. If she had anything to be grateful for, it was that Mike had gone to his parents for the weekend to bring his father home from the hospital. The elder Sorenson had undergone knee-replacement surgery, and Mike wanted to be on hand to make sure his father did what the doctor ordered. Mike definitely would not approve of this little meeting tonight. She was grateful also that Trixie had somehow blown off her head cold by drinking eight ounces of Kentucky bourbon and was back on the job. Without Trixie, there would be no way to carry out her plan.

“Let’s go upstairs, Olive. Come on, girl. It’s not the end of the world even though it seems like it at the moment. I have to get ready for this evening. Just a quick shower and a change of clothes, then I’ll fix us some supper.” Olive sat looking up at her, her tail still against the floor. “Please, Olive, you’re making me feel bad. God, if you could only talk.” When the springer wouldn’t budge, Jane sat down on the floor and cuddled with the dog. “Billy and Jeeter didn’t belong here, Olive. They sort of went home. It wasn’t fair to keep them here when I had the . . . power . . . for want of a better word, to . . . to make things right. Look, I don’t know if this is real or not. Whatever it is, we have to live with it. Don’t make me carry you, Olive. Get up!” she said in her most authoritative voice. Olive whimpered but obeyed the command, followed Jane upstairs, and headed for her bed in the corner. She never slept in the bed, but she did keep all her toys and treasures along with a bunch of dog bones in it.

Jane was on her way into the bathroom when Olive started barking. It was such a loud, joyous bark that Jane turned around to see what was going on. Olive was nosing her sheepskin bed. Jane walked over for a closer look. On top of a pile of stuffed animals was a tattered burlap ball tied together with a vine. Jane watched as the springer gently nosed the ball from the pile of toys and bones. When it toppled onto the floor, she rolled it toward Jane.

“It’s Jeeter’s isn’t it, Olive?” She smothered a sob. “He left you his ball. See, I told you it was okay.” She watched as Olive flopped down and worked the ball until it was under her chin. Once she had it secure, she sighed with contentment and closed her eyes.

“Thanks, Billy,” Jane said. She waited to see if there would be a response. When nothing happened, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and once more headed for the shower.

Jane watched their arrival from the small window on the first-floor stair landing. Brian must have used some extraordinary force or else he was more verbal than she had previously given him credit for. They were all there, even Todd Prentice. But they were in two groups—the good guys, as she more or less thought of them: Brian, Tony, and Mitch. And the bad guys: Marcus, Ben, and Pete. Todd Prentice brought up the rear. The pariah. Even a blind fool could see the others were distancing themselves from Todd.

Long years of hatred bubbled in Jane as she stared with narrowed eyes at the men responsible for Connie Bryan’s death. She wished she had the guts to shoot them dead on the spot. She mumbled a prayer that she wouldn’t do something she would regret later on. The bastards were actually there, in her house. She closed her eyes for a moment to ward off a wave of dizziness. She thought she could feel strong hands pinning her arms to her side, thought she could smell her own fear and Connie’s as well.

When the doorbell rang, Jane almost jumped out of her skin. She made her way to the door taking deep breaths as she went along.

“Gentlemen, come in. Let’s go into the living room. I can offer you coffee or beer.” There were no takers.
Why in hell am I acting so civilized? Because I am, and they aren’t,
she answered herself.

Jane’s furniture was arranged in a
U
to take advantage of the beautiful fireplace. Four of the seven ex-football players squeezed together on the couch behind the coffee table. Two others sat in overstuffed chairs at each end of the coffee table, and Todd sat in one of the two straight-backed chairs flanking the fireplace.

Marcus pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”

“No. Go right ahead.” She opened the end-table drawer and took out two large ashtrays and set them down on the coffee table. Three of them lit up. Before long the room would be filled with smoke, and she’d have to air out the house.

Brian opened the discussion. “I told everyone what you told me, Doc. Pete, Ben, and Marcus don’t seem to want to believe me. They say they didn’t do anything but rough Connie up. I told them about your evidence. Maybe you should clarify it for them. They don’t believe you were the other girl that night either,” Brian said, looking directly at her.

Jane hated being in the spotlight. They looked so big, so . . . menacing. Just the way they’d all looked on that dark night so long ago. She must have been out of her mind when she concocted this plan but now . . . Now it was too late. Displaying a confidence she didn’t feel, she sat down and crossed her legs. “What Brian told you
is
the truth. I was the other girl, the one you didn’t take into the bushes. If you still doubt me I have pictures . . . pictures of the bruises, cuts, and abrasions you inflicted on Connie. I also have,
had
rather, all the clothing she wore that night. The police have it now,” she lied, straight-faced. “Your DNA, gentlemen, has been preserved. While I can’t show you the actual physical evidence, I can show you the pictures. What that means to all of you is you do not have one iota of wiggle room here.” She turned toward Todd. “The only one here tonight who wasn’t physically at the scene is, you, Todd,” she said, retaining her affability even as her eyes narrowed in revulsion. She swung her gaze back to the others. “If you want him to walk away from this and continue to enjoy his good life while all of your lives go down the drain, then by all means keep lying for him.”

Jane got up and walked over to the cherrywood secretary, opened the drawer, and withdrew a large envelope of computer-generated pictures, scanned from the Polaroid originals. She handed them to Brian to pass around.

“As you can see, the first three pictures are of Connie and the other pictures are her clothes, the ones that are full of your DNA. It only takes a drop, gentlemen, one tiny little drop, and bingo, a match! If you look carefully at the pictures, you will see her name label on the garments.” Perverse though it might be, she was enjoying their looks of fear. “Your legal fees are going to be astronomical. Your families are going to be sick over this. Your wives might even divorce you. And your kids will be tormented in school. No matter how you look at it, your lives are never going to be the same. Just the way my life was never the same after that awful night. We all know what happened to Connie.”

Jane walked behind the sofa where Marcus, Pete, and Ben were handing the pictures to one another. The moment she saw the scar on Marcus Appleton’s hand something in her snapped. “You stick out in my mind most of all, you sick son of a bitch! I’m surprised you don’t remember me. I’m the one who bit your hand and left you with that dandy little scar. You called me a beached whale and a tub of lard, remember? You’re one of the reasons Connie Bryan is dead.”

Marcus leapt up off the couch and turned toward her. “I’m not listening to this. So what if I have a scar on my hand? Millions of people have scars on their hands. I don’t even know who the hell you are. Ramsey here said you were going to go to our families and tell them some wild story. The only reason I’m here is to see for myself what kind of nutcase you are. Come on, guys, I’m leaving.” He took a step around the coffee table.

“Sit down, Mr. Appleton,” Jane said, pointing her finger at him. “You leave when I say you leave. Not one minute before.” She might have been holding a gun for the way he stopped midstride and stood statue-still. “What do the rest of you have to say for yourselves?”

“It was Todd’s idea,” Pete blurted. “He had this plan. He said he’d get us all good jobs with his wife’s family business. Back then, he used the word
girlfriend.”

“This is bullshit!” Todd yelled as he stood up, his hands clenched into fists.

Before he could say another word, Ben Nolan was in his face. “Don’t try weaseling out, Prentice. If I go to jail for this, so are you. We go down, you go down.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Brian injected. “Mitch, Tony, and I had nothing to do with Connie’s rape. The worst thing Tony and Mitch did was hold the doctor down. I was there, but I left before things got out of hand. Tony and Mitch can verify that. We’ll take whatever punishment the courts want to inflict on us for that part of it, but that’s it. The rest of you are on your own.”

“Don’t try pushing this on me,” Prentice blustered. “You all acted independently. I didn’t tell you to do anything, and you can’t prove I did. I’m outta here.”

“Sit down, Todd,” Jane shouted, stopping him short. “Trixie, this might be a good time to bring in our big guns.”

Wearing his bulletproof vest and his badge, Flash, followed by Kimba, a soon-to-be K-9 graduate, trotted into the room, each coming around the
U
of furniture to stand next to the two fireplace chairs.

Jane was rewarded with instant silence and a rapid scramble for seats. Confident that she’d made her point, she sat down opposite Todd and crossed her legs, affecting a casual pose. “Flash, Kimba,
seitz,
” she said, her voice quiet but firm. The dogs obeyed instantly. The sitting dogs reminded her of the stone lions guarding the New York Public Library. “You were saying something, Todd? I couldn’t quite hear what it was,” Jane said coldly.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Not much from where I’m standing.” She strived for an innocent look. “Oh, you mean the dogs. Are they bothering you? I know they’re big and ferocious-looking, but I assure you they’re very well trained. They’ll do
anything
I ask.” Todd’s look of smug confidence was gone. “Now where was I? Oh, yes. In one of Connie’s letters . . .” She slapped her face and clicked her tongue. “Oh, jeez, I forgot. You don’t know about her letters, do you?” She waved her hand. “Let me get you guys up to speed here. I visited Connie’s parents and they gave me her old computer disks. I recovered her letters off of them.” She looked directly at Todd. “Anyway, she said that after you two were married you were going to get a dog and a cat. You do like dogs, don’t you? Listen, if you want to leave, go ahead.” She moved her gaze around the room. “You can all leave if you want to.”
If you dare to,
she thought and almost laughed. “Trixie, do we have any refreshments? Cocoa with those little marshmallows and some of those gingersnaps would be real good about now.”