The Heart Knows What the Heart Wants (12 page)

"So, you gave up on your dream to be a rock star. Wasn't there anything else you wanted to do with your life?" Shane asked Star as she drove them toward Hannibal.

A twinge of regret knotted inside her stomach. There were
many
dreams she'd had once upon a time, including a nice house with the proverbial white picket fence, and a supportive husband. She'd wanted two kids and swore she'd be a better mother to them than her own mother had been to her.

She didn't have to worry about being any kind of mother at all now, seeing as how she'd never give birth. Yet another thing Derek had ruined for her. She'd been about seven and a half months pregnant when something set him off on a drunken tangent. He held her down and repeatedly punched her in the stomach.

She'd lost the baby, and there had been such severe damage to her reproductive organs, the doctors didn't hold out much hope that she'd ever conceive -- much less carry to term. That should have been the final straw for her, but it wasn't.

"Not really. I never went to college or anything. I did astrology readings for friends, but that wasn't a dream I aspired to or anything." She sighed. "I messed around with jewelry making for a while. I sold some things on eBay and Etsy, it was just a hobby, mostly."

"It's never too late, you know," he said as he stared out the Jeep window.

"Pot meet kettle." She laughed. "Why didn't you ever go to college?"

He was silent for so long she wondered if he was going to skip giving her an answer altogether. He took a deep breath and said, "You want the novel length version or the condensed one?"

"Just start at the beginning and talk until you run out of things to say," she encouraged.

"In high school I played basketball. I was good enough that I earned a full ride scholarship to Iowa State." He stopped talking and peered sideways at her. "I told you that part of my story already."

"Yes, but you never told me what happened. Why you didn't follow through with your plans," she said.

"A bad car crash. I was pinned inside the car. My leg was smashed. That pretty much fucked me out of the basketball scholarship," he said, filled with bitter regrets.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Did you ever think about becoming a coach?"

"Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach," he said bitterly. "Anyway, I decided I'd take a year off and try to save up some money. I figured maybe I'd be able to work my way through college. I hadn't given up on going at that point, it just got delayed."

She took her eyes off the highway long enough to peek over at him. His eyes, dark and heavy, met hers. He pulled his hand through his long hair and took a deep breath. "Then, my mom found out she had cancer... well when she died I honestly wanted to die right along with her. Believe me I felt sorry enough for myself that I thought about doing just that...until Aunt Neona, and rehab happened."

"You're still young, Shane, you shouldn't give up on your dreams," she said quietly.

"No, I don't think college is in my stars. Every time I thought I'd be able to go, something bad happened. I guess superstition keeps me from trying again."

"Superstition? You superstitious? I find that hard to believe, Mr. Left Brain," she said. She smiled at him. "I think you should check into it."

Shane shook his head and faced out the window. He felt like such a loser. He'd never be able to afford college with what he earned at the convenience store. Studying the stars was just a long gone pipedream.

Star bit her bottom lip and remembered the night he'd had the nightmare and the girl's name he'd called out. "Who's Lila?" she asked.

His head whipped around, and his eyes narrowed to slits. "What the hell did you hear about Lila?"

She flinched at the tone of his voice. "You were having a nightmare one night. You called out her name in your sleep."

His jaw twitched and he said, "Lila was my high school girlfriend."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Messy break up?"

"You could say that; she's dead. I killed her," he said. "I think that's enough twenty-one questions for now."

"What do you mean, 'you killed her'?" she asked. When he didn't reply, she reached her hand across the space separating them and rested it on his thigh. "Since I know you're no cold-blooded murderer, I'm sure whatever happened was an accident. You can't keep it bottled up inside forever, Shane."

His eyes dropped to her hand on his leg. "I could offer you the same advice, you know."

The two of them remained silent for the rest of the ride. She'd never seen him in such an agitated mood. Her past experiences with Derek warned her not to push. Especially given the amount of painful details he'd already shared.

She turned into the parking lot and slowly cruised up and down row after row of used cars. A small white Ford Focus sparked her interest. She stopped the Jeep and hopped out to take a closer look without saying anything to Shane. Walking around the car, she saw that it was in surprisingly good shape for its age and mileage. The price was a bit more than she'd wanted to spend, but it was still doable and likely negotiable. She opened the door and got in.

The passenger side door opened, and Shane folded his lanky body into the seat beside her. She refused to look at him. The weight of his gaze caused her to squirm in the car seat. "Look, I don't want you to think I'm a heartless dick. Or some sort of a sociopath. I should probably clarify a few things for you," he told her. He reached toward her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She reached for his hand and squeezed. "I don't think you are either of those things. Trust me, I've had firsthand experience with someone who fits both of those bills," she said softly.

"Lila was my girlfriend all through high school. She was an amazing girl," Shane said.

A fist-sized lump formed inside Star's throat. She nodded and turned toward him. "Normally, this is where I should interject something totally unselfish. Like, 'you don't owe me an explanation,' or something that would imply I'm willing to blindly trust you. But truthfully, I'm tired of misplaced trust. I'm tired of always believing the best in people, only to turn around and have it bite me in the ass. So by all means, feel free to enlighten me," she encouraged him.

"I'd just graduated, and we were out celebrating. I'd had too much to drink, but was too fucking stupid to hand my keys over to someone else. We were only going a few miles, to the next party. Nothing could possibly happen, I was invincible, right?" He laughed bitterly.

"I blew right through a stop sign. I never even saw the other guy coming. He plowed into the passenger side of my truck, with enough force to flip us. Lila was thrown from the vehicle...they told me later that she died instantly. I didn't get so lucky."

Star's face heated with instant remorse. She turned in her seat, facing him full on. Tears streamed down his tortured face. "God, Shane. I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn't have pressed." She reached for him and pulled his head against her chest.

They were interrupted when the car door opened behind her. "Can I help you folks?" a deep voice asked.

Shane cleared his throat and pulled free of her arms. She turned and looked up at the man standing there eyeing her curiously. "Keys? Do you have the keys? I'd like to take this car for a drive."

The salesman looked between her and Shane skeptically. He nodded and extended his hand. "William Barnhart," he said. Star shook his hand and forced him to step back as she got out of the car.

"Mr. Barnhart. Star Lambert. Paul Caldwell sent us." she told him.

Just like that, the doubt left his expression, and he smiled broadly at her. "Good, good. Come on up to the showroom, and I'll need a copy of your license and proof of insurance, and then we'll take this little gem for a drive."

A few hours later, Star was behind the wheel of her brand new -- for her -- Ford Focus on her way back to Red Vale. Shane followed behind in Neona's Jeep. She was pretty proud of her skills of negotiation and felt a strong, inexplicable sense of relief now that she had her own car again.

Roxy had done her part and gotten Taylor's cell phone, and then Derek had held up his end of the bargain by fucking her in the parking lot behind Crow's Landing. He grinned at the look of terror on her face as he wrapped his fingers around her neck. The way her eyes bulged made his dick rock hard.

He didn't want to kill the whore; he just liked the feeling of power it gave him -- the control he felt as she struggled beneath his iron tight chokehold -- knowing he could end her life if he wanted, while repeatedly shoving his cock into her. Previous experience told him how far he could push things, how long he could choke her before she would lose consciousness.

While simultaneously letting go of her neck and burying himself to the hilt inside her, his release came just as she sputtered and gasped for air. He laughed at the terror in her eyes and watched as her features morphed into fury. She swiped her talons across the side of his face, causing him to fly into a blind rage.

Singlehandedly entrapping both of her wrists in one of his giant paws, he held her immobile while he pulled his still semi-hard dick out of her and tossed the used condom to the ground. He jerked her upright with one hand and crashed his other fist against her jaw hard enough to cause her head to snap back.

Roxy should have left well-enough alone and walked away, but she'd learned a thing or two about self-defense. She'd be damned if she'd let him get away with nearly choking her to death. He never even saw it coming when she jackhammered her knee into his crotch. The force and pain it inflicted on him was enough that he momentarily loosened his grip, allowing her to stumble free from his hold.

He dropped to his knees and struggled to catch his breath. The bitch's knee to his junk caused the oxygen to rocket from his lungs. He watched as she yanked her dress down, struggling to cover herself. His eyes narrowed into angry slits and he slowly pushed himself upright. He zipped and buttoned the fly of his jeans and grinned maniacally at her.

Most women would have been grateful to be free from such a sadistic prick, but she was too lit up on whatever her drug of choice had been for the night. Her muscles twitched and her movements were jerky as she lunged for him. "You could have killed me, you crazy bastard!" she forced out from between clenched teeth.

He quickly brought his elbow up, and with one quick jab, smashed her nose hard enough he heard the sound of crunching bones and cartilage. She teetered backwards, losing her balance, and fell on her ass. Her legs spread wide in front of her and loose gravel dug into the palms of her hands, drawing blood. She crab-walked backwards, trying to put distance from him as he loomed over her.

He lifted his leg and crushed his boot into her face. Her head connected with the ground and made a sickening thud. He kicked her repeatedly until she blacked out. He then strolled casually away the few yards to where his truck sat idling. He climbed inside and was about to leave when he remembered the phone.

"Fuck me," he grunted under his breath. He used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to cover his hands and picked it up. He scanned through the messages until he found what he was looking for: a message from Estelle.
So my little butterfly flew north
.

His memory was like a steel trap. He never forgot anything. Especially numbers. He repeated it in his twisted brain, locking it inside, and rolled down the window flinging it in the direction of Roxy's lifeless body.

He gazed at her and knew she wasn't dead. Some unlucky bastard would find the dumb whore and she'd be up and fucking around again in no time. His back tire rolled over the shattered cell phone as he drove from the lot.

When he got home, he tore off his clothes and threw them in the wash before he went into the bathroom to shower Roxy's scent off him. Afterwards, he glared long and hard at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, checking out the scratches Roxy had given him. She'd managed to get in a couple of pretty good swipes with her dagger-like nails. "Stupid fucking bitch," he growled.

He eased his fingers over the deep gouges she'd carved into his cheek. There wasn't any peroxide under the sink, so he had to use rubbing alcohol to disinfect the wounds. He felt the burn clear into the center of his bones, causing him to suck in a quick breath.

When he was satisfied that the wound was clean, he put on a pair of boxers and sat down in front of the TV with a bottle of beer to formulate his next move. His thoughts drifted to Roxy. He wasn't worried about her ratting him out for beating her. Everyone knew Roxy fucked anything that walked. He laughed as he remembered something his dad used to say about sluts: "
If she had as many pricks on the outside as she's had on the inside, she'd look like a fucking porcupine
."

Derek roared with laughter and downed half his beer in a couple swallows.

Star parked her new car out front on the street and walked toward the house. She stopped and watched as Shane hopped on his motorcycle and left without saying goodbye. She stared after him until he disappeared out of view. Somewhere inside she willed him to turn around and come back, but he didn't.

Up in her room, she tucked her legs beneath her and stared out the window into the big backyard. Her conversation with Shane had left her disquieted. Now, more than ever, she was convinced that being just his friend was not a viable option. She wanted much, much more than that, and it killed her that she had nothing to offer him. He deserved better than her, even if he couldn't see it...she could.

Her chest tightened as she thought about her future. She had absolutely no life purpose. The only real job she'd held longer than a few months was the bartending stint at Crow's Landing, and she had few marketable skills.

Now that she'd bought the car, spending a sizeable portion of her savings, she had to figure out a way to bring in some money again. There were few options. She could continue to live at Neona's house. She could continue working at the convenience store -- at least until Neona's leg was healed enough to go back to work, but she wanted more for herself. She was tired of just existing. She was ready to live her life with purpose for a change.

She pushed off the bed and walked over to where she'd stowed her bags inside the closet. She didn't know what had made her pack her jewelry making kit, but she was glad she'd listened to her intuition for a change. She took the small plastic storage boxes from the bottom of her duffle bag and began going through what she had left.

Designing jewelry might not make her rich, but it would allow her to flex her creative muscles again, as well as bring in some extra cash. She'd done quite well making and selling her creations in the past. She loved the pride she felt in her work, it made her feel like she was accomplishing more than just using oxygen. A smile tugged up the corners of her mouth, and she started to get excited about something for the first time in ages. She stayed up in her room the rest of the afternoon, sketching out some new designs.

Her head snapped up, jarring her back to her surroundings when she heard the buzz from an incoming text. She felt the hair lift at the nape of her neck and was almost too afraid to look and see who it was from. She closed her eyes and reached for the phone. She laughed in relief when she read the message from Shane:
Watch the stars with me 2nite? Plz
.

She didn't stop to talk herself out of her quick response:
What time?

Within a few seconds, the phone lit up again:
After dark :) Bring pie
.

She grinned broadly and shook her head. She tapped out:
OK
.

She started to put the phone down when it vibrated again:
U can come now if u want
.

She got up from the desk and stretched. Glancing at her watch, she saw that she'd been working for hours on her drawings. She closed the sketchpad and decided to bring it with her to show Shane her new designs. His guitar was still where he'd left it. She picked it up with her free hand and ran downstairs to the kitchen.

Neona was sitting at the table with Michael eating leftovers when she came in. Star leaned the guitar case against the counter so she could open the refrigerator for the pie. "Shane asked me to bring pie."

"That your new car out front?" Michael asked.

"It is. I got a pretty sweet deal when I told the salesman that Paul had sent me," she told him.

"What did you get?" Neona asked.

"A 2009 Ford Focus hatchback. It's pretty clean. Low miles. Now I won't have to borrow your Jeep anymore," Star said.

"You were welcome to drive the Jeep any time. Though hopefully, I'll be able to start driving again one of these days," Neona said.

"Oh, that's good news!" Star smiled.

"Yes, well, we'll see about that," Michael scoffed. He turned to face Star. "Why don't you show me your new car?"

Star's eyes darted between Michael and Neona. "Sure. Grab the guitar?"

He nodded and picked up the guitar case while Star stacked her drawings on top of the covered pie dish. "Night, Neona," she called over her shoulder as she followed Michael outside.

He opened the passenger side door and slid the guitar in the backseat. Star gave him a thin smile. "Something tells me you aren't really interested in checking out the new ride."

"Am I that transparent?" he said with a chuckle.

"In a word? Yes," Star said.

"I'll get right to the point. Do you know a woman by the name of Roxanne Crow?" Michael asked. He folded his arms and leaned a hip against the side of the car.

Star's forehead crinkled. "Roxy," she whispered.

"Sorry?"

She cleared her throat and said, "Yes, I know her, why?"

"She was beaten pretty badly last weekend and found behind the bar her dad owns. Crow's Landing? Anyway, the bartender, a Mr. Taylor Beauregard, found her when he was taking out the trash after the bar closed." Michael peered at Star. "The last person she was seen talking to before she left the bar that night was Derek. Witnesses said they left at approximately the same time."

Star felt the blood drain from her face, and she covered her mouth. "Oh, my God. Did she press charges against him?"

"She denies he had anything to do with the beating. She swears she didn't see who her attacker was. The detective investigating the case said she seemed terrified of something...or someone," Michael said. "Mr. Beauregard's phone was found on the ground next to Ms. Crow. It had been smashed, probably by a car tire."

Star's knees gave out, and she sank to the ground. Michael knelt in front of her. "I hope for your sake -- for everyone's sake -- he doesn't come looking for you here."

"There are a million places I could be right now. If he read my texts on Taylor's phone, he thinks I'm in Iowa City." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

Michael helped her to her feet. "Be that as it may, I suggest you turn off the GPS function on your phone. If he has your number, he can find you."

She nodded and brushed off the back of her jeans. "Okay, I will."

"I also think it would be best if you quit working at the convenience store. The chances of him traveling through on the highway are extremely high. His stopping at the convenience store isn't as likely, but still, it could happen. Anything you can do to fly below the radar would be my professional advice." He gave her a thin-lipped smile. "Have a good evening, Star."

Star leaned heavily against the side of her car. She had no doubt in her mind that it was Derek who had beaten Roxy. Her thoughts raced a million miles per hour, and when she tried to hold on to one of them for more than a few seconds, another thought nudged it out of the way.

Her texts to Taylor had given her whereabouts as Iowa City. As far as anyone in West Memphis knew, that's where she was. She pulled her cell phone out and disabled the GPS function, hoping it wasn't already too late.