by Tom Hogan
“I’m more comfortable down here.” He almost smiled. “Believe me.”
Now, three nights into Alexis’s return, they had their routine down. They stayed in the L after dinner, Alexis’s deliberately trying not to separate herself from the camp. Then, around ten, they headed to their separate cabins to change, shower and brush their teeth. By coincidence or design, Alexis would still be in her bathroom—her door locked—when Josh arrived and arranged the bedding.
“So you think Cavanaugh and the others are barking up the wrong tree?”
“I understand their logic—I just don’t think it pertains to Paul. I understand how attractive Mexico is to cops—it’s easy to get into, the police down there don’t monitor our ‘wanted’s’, and there are lots of places to lie low, grow your beard, and disappear. But if that’s their logic, they should be looking in the Keys. Or the Texas coast. Or the Carolina outer banks. Someplace warm, where they speak English. And not in some low-cost hotel, either. He’s in a condo somewhere, sitting by the pool, hoping this all calms down or blows over.”
“I don’t see him anywhere except around here. I see him just outside the tree line, watching the cabin, waiting for you to leave. I know that’s not logical, but logic doesn’t carry a lot of weight these days.”
She got into bed. “I’ll tell you what is logical, though. He finds a sympathetic woman, tells her his side of things, and she takes him in. But then she sees the news or rethinks things and tries to leave. And maybe he does to her…”
She left the light on and picked up a book. Josh did the same, settling into the wingback chair by the door. They read in silence for half an hour, then Alexis put down her book.
“Tell me I’m going to be stronger as a result of this.”
Josh put down his book. “You’re going to be stronger as a result of this.”
“Okay, I deserved that. But seriously.”
“You want my honest opinion?”
“No. Lie to me.”
“Okay. I think you’re going to come out of this. Only it won’t be on your schedule. This isn’t the kind of that you work through in a couple of days, then get on with your life. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Why can’t it? Look, Josh, I don’t feel guilty about anything. I don’t feel shame. I wouldn’t be conflicted or ashamed if someone broke into my car. Well, someone broke into my body. That’s how I look at it, at least.”
Josh smiled slightly. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that analogy. It’s a good one. But it sounds like you’ve never had either your car or your house broken into. Have you?” She shook her head. “Because the word that comes up—even if it’s just your car—from the people who experience it, is ‘violated.’ Some of them don’t want to get back into the car. They sell it instead. Entering the house is traumatic for some of them, to the point that some of them move. And that’s a car or a house—not your body, not the most private part of your body.”
She traced her finger on her bedspread, not looking up. “Maybe, but here’s what I tell myself. Do I feel shame for what happened? No, why should I? Should I have seen it coming? No. Did I resist as much as I could? Yes, until I realized that stopping fighting was what was going to get me out of there alive.” She looked up, her eyes red and angry. “And the whole time that bastard was on top of me, I told myself I’d start healing the moment he was done. Which is what I’m doing.”
Josh’s eyes softened. “You asked me yesterday what I’ve learned from everything I’ve gone through—my time in prison, on both sides of the bars. Working on the book. What I found out is that healing is about two things—effort and time. I admire your effort. I really do. But you need to let time do its thing as well.”
“So I’m damaged goods, at least for a while. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying that this kind of thing changes you. You won’t look at yourself the same way. You won’t look at men the same way.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, but it’s true.”
She flipped her hand angrily. “Okay, so now I know what a therapist—excuse me, a counselor—thinks about it. But before I believe it I’ll want to hear it from someone who’s been raped.”
Josh leaned forward slightly, his eyes hardening. “You just did.”
“You’re not going to tell me about it, are you?” she said into the darkness.
They had been lying in their own silences for over an hour. After delivering the news, Josh had stood up, walked over to the bedside table, and turned out the lamp. Then, without a word, he had unzipped the sleeping bag and crawled inside. Alexis hadn’t moved for the first ten minutes, then had crawled under the covers and lay on her back, staring at the hint of the ceiling through the heavy darkness.
“I told you it happened. That’s enough.”
“Why did you tell me?”
“Because I want you to believe me when I tell you what’s ahead.” He shifted so that he was up on his elbow. “Look, you’re saying all the right things, doing all the right things. Just don’t get frustrated or angry with yourself when they don’t come true as fast as you want them to.”
“So I’m just supposed to lie here and wait to heal?”
“That’s not what you’re doing, and you know it. But this isn’t about bruises—it’s about violation. It’s about what’s inside you. And that takes time. And, believe me, that time won’t be easy. Because once the swelling goes down and you start to look like yourself again, that’s when you’ll kick yourself for not having fought back harder. Or seeing it coming. Or not having your icepick ready.” He hesitated. “And sometimes you’ll be ashamed that you didn’t die trying to fight him off.
The next night, she waited until the light went out. “Was Paul raped in prison?”
“Yes.”
“More than once?”
“More than once.”
“That’s why you took his place, wasn’t it?”
He breathed in the night air and held it. “I was watching my brother disappear in front of my eyes. And for something he didn’t do. At least I thought so at the time—I’m not so sure anymore. But think about what happened to you—except in Paul’s case it wasn’t a one-time thing. It was going to happen again. Perhaps nightly. For years.” She heard him shift in his sleeping bag. “That’s why I did what I did. But what I didn’t do is fully realize what it did to him. I knew it turned him into a coward. But it also taught him how to rape. I should have realized that.”
The next day marked a week since the rape. Alexis awoke in a deep depression, wanting just to stay in bed and be left alone. Josh called down to Barbara Heller, who told him about anniversaries—that Alexis would have her own calendar, and that she would regress on those days. She would be better tomorrow, and if she wasn’t, to give her a call. So Josh headed down to work with Cavanaugh and his detectives.
Later that afternoon, as he was reading on the porch of his cabin, The Gimp’s van pulled up and The Gimp leaned his head out the window. “Paul called the bar twenty minutes ago. He’ll be calling back at four-thirty. Want to ride down with me?”
“No, you go back down. Let me talk to William for a few minutes, then I’ll be down.” As The Gimp started to back out, Josh knocked on the window. “Which phone? The pay one?”
The Gimp nodded. “He thought the L might be tapped. Same with my private line.”
At four-thirty the phone rang. Josh picked it up on the second ring. “Paulie,” he said, somewhere between a statement and a question.
“How much trouble am I in?”
“Where are you?”
“How much trouble am I in?”
“A lot. The longer you run, the worse it gets.”
There was quiet on the line. Josh cupped his hand around the receiver, though the bar was quiet at this time of the afternoon. “How is she?” Paul finally said.
“She’s going
to be alright. Where are you, Paulie? Tell me and I’ll come get you.”
“Tell her I’m sorry, okay?”
Josh closed his eyes. “Goddamnit it, Paul, You didn’t wreck her car. You raped her.”
“I just snapped, Josh. She said no to me, and it was like all the ‘no’s’ I’ve heard for the past year. No, you’re not right for this job. No, we don’t think there’s going to be any work soon. No, don’t bother calling us. No, Mr. Sutcliffe can’t see you. So I got up the nerve to turn my back on all that crap, to start fresh, and she tells me no.”
“So you raped her.”
“It was like there was this fire in the back of my mind that just burned its way right out the front of my eyes. Tell her I’m sorry, that I’d do anything to undo it.”
“Tell her yourself. Turn yourself in. Say the right things—and really mean it—and maybe she won’t press charges if you go into a program.”
A dry laugh came through the receiver. “Don’t lie to your big brother, Josh. This isn’t between me and Alexis—it’s between me and the law. Which means I do time. Big time. And you know I can’t do that.”
“This isn’t going to blow over, Paulie. And unless you’re still around here—which I don’t think your dumb enough to be—then it won’t be Cavanaugh or one of his men who bring you in. It’ll be someone who believes you’re violent. Someone with a gun.”
“Then maybe I need a gun of my own.”
Josh leaned his forehead against the metal phone case and closed his eyes. “You’re in over your head. You know that, don’t you?”
The same dry chuckle. “Speaking of over my head, I went bodysurfing today. The waves were big, like that day after the storm.” He paused. “Don’t worry, Josh. I’m not going to give you any more clues on where I am. I don’t want you to have to decide whether to inform on me or not. Anyway, by tomorrow I’ll be a long way from here, so tell Cavanaugh whatever you want.”
“Then tell me about the surf.”
“It was big. Clean. I took some of the smaller, inside waves, then got up the courage to go outside. It was weird to be out there without you. Anyway, I tried for a few of those monsters, but at the last moment I pulled back. Felt like my balls were up in my throat.”
Josh smiled weakly. “I know the feeling.”
“No, you don’t,” Paul said sharply. His voice softened. “I’m your brother, remember? I can always tell when you’re lying.”
Josh crossed the floor, heading for the door, his head down. At the last moment he changed direction and walked towards the bar, where The Gimp was waiting, an already-filled mug in front of him.
“He’s not giving himself up, is he?”
Josh shook his head. “He’s just going to keep running. Until he runs out of room.” He nursed the beer silently, taking little sips. Then he looked up at The Gimp with wet eyes. “I think I just talked to my brother for the last time.”
The Gimp started to speak, then busied himself behind the bar, getting ready for the after-work rush. At one point, as he passed by Josh, he reached over with his free hand and cupped Josh’s neck for a moment. He pulled Josh’s head forward until their foreheads touched. Then, embarrassed, he let go.
CHAPTER 49
“Did you tell Cavanaugh about the gun?” William asked as they went for a walk before dinner.
“Paul didn’t say he had a gun, just that he might need one.”
“This isn’t the kind of thing you split hairs about, Josh.”
They kept walking in a loose circle around the camp, staying within earshot of Clark’s call to dinner. They moved at a leisurely, almost plodding place. Occasionally Josh reached up and plucked a leaf from a tree, stripping the greenery with his fingernails until all that was left was a bare stem.
“I don’t want an ‘armed and dangerous’ going out if it’s not true.”
“And if it is? You won’t be able to live with yourself if Paul blows some unaware cop—or civilian—away.”
After one more lap around the camp, and without a word to William, Josh broke off and headed back to the L. He made two calls, the first to an oceanographer friend, then to Cavanaugh. He told Cavanaugh that, based on what Paul had told him and surf reports from the past forty-eight hours, he should focus his search on Southern California, specifically, the beaches south of San Clemente. Also, there was a possibility that Paul was armed.
After dinner the next night, William told Alexis he was sick of Josh hogging all her time, to get her coat, he was taking her down to The Gimp’s for a drink. Just the two of them—the rest of Moetown had to stay behind. Before Alexis could answer, Donna asked her to join her in the kitchen for a minute. When she returned, she told William to give her thirty minutes to shower and change.
She joined Josh on the couch. “This feels strange.”
“You’ll hurt Will’s feelings if you don’t go. And The Gimp’s been wanting to say hello. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“What if he’s out there? William’s no fighter.”
“Paul’s in San Diego.” He put a hand over hers. “I’ll tell you about it when you get back.”
After William and Alexis drove off, Josh looked over at Donna. “What’d you say to make her change her mind?”
“That she could use a change of scenery. And that she needed to give you a break.”
They returned shortly after eleven. William walked Alexis to her cabin, then came over to Josh’s. He entered without knocking. “You’re up.”
“How’d it go?”
“About what you’d expect. Everyone made a point of dropping by the table for a moment to say hi. The men were a little more awkward than normal and the women a bit too sympathetic, but it was good for Alexis to interact with them, to see that, on this front at least, how little had changed. Anyway, we’re back.”
Josh changed into his t-shirt and sweats and headed over. Hearing the shower as he approached, he let himself in and settled into his chair. She came out a few minutes later in her bathrobe and pajamas, toweling her hair vigorously. “Had to get the smoke out of my hair.” She sat down on the bed and kept toweling. “So tell me about Paul.”
“He called down to The Gimp’s this afternoon.”
“What did he want?”
“To know where he stood. And to see how you were doing.” He held up a hand. “I know.”
She lay the towel aside. “Did he say why he did it?”
He nodded. “Because you said no, just like everyone else in his world these days.”
“Poor thing. Saying no wasn’t my mistake. Saying no without my icepick was my mistake.” She looked at him closely. “Did you tell Cavanaugh about this?” When he nodded, her voice softened. “Good. I know that wasn’t easy, but there are too many people out there—women, especially—who can still say no to him.”
They say together in a comfortable silence. Finally, Josh sighed and straightened his back. “It’s such a helpless feeling, just sitting up here waiting for the phone to ring, waiting to hear if I’ve still got a brother.”
“You’re not just sitting up here, Josh. You’re helping undo the damage Paul did. That’s something. At least to me.”
Josh pulled his knees up. “Is that why you chose me instead of Donna or William? So that I could atone for my brother?”
“I’m not that conniving. Or that selfless. I did it for me. Because, when I thought about what was ahead for me, it seemed that you had the most to teach me. Speaking of which, I need to ask you for a couple of things. I’ve been thinking about them ever since the rape, but they became even more apparent to me tonight as I sat in The Gimp’s.”
“Okay. What do you want to know?”
“First, I want to know how to defend myself. Really defend myself. Not with an icepick, but with real weapons. And hand-to-hand. Whatever it takes.”
Josh tho
ught for a long moment. “I’ll teach you everything I know, but the most important thing for you to understand before we begin is that it’s not so much about your weapons or your skills. It’s about your state of mind.”
“Give me an example.”
“Okay. You used a phrase just now: ‘whatever it takes.’” He paused. “Sometimes ‘whatever it takes’ means submitting. Other times it means doing things that right now, in this cabin, you couldn’t imagine doing.” He looked at her closely. “Are you following me?”
“I think so, but go on.”
He held up a closed fist. “There are two stats you need to know before we go any further.” He raised a finger. “If you’re assaulted, your changes of escaping unhurt are greatest if you resist immediately and forcefully.” As she started to nod, he raised the second finger. “But if you do resist and you don’t escape, your chances of being both raped and seriously injured—killed, even—are much higher than if you’d submitted from the start.”
“So what are you telling me?”
“That submission is always an option, remember that, if, in your estimation, it’s your best chance at survival. But also, if you’re going to resist, you’re going to need a new mindset, one you might not be completely comfortable with.” He looked at her, hard.
She nodded and pulled her robe more tightly around her. “Tell me what you’ve got in mind and I’ll tell you if I’m up to it.”
“Okay,” Josh said. “Over the next week or two I’ll teach you a number of self-defense techniques. Some will involve a gun, but others will involve eyes, testicles, ears and nerves. They’re not pretty but they’re effective. But you’ve got to be willing to use them. Immediately and viciously.”
“After what I’ve been through, why would you think I wasn’t capable of that?”
“Because for many people, when it comes down to it, they hesitate. Or they freeze. They’re too…humane to do what it takes.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Josh nodded. “Maybe. Do you see yourself carrying a gun going forward?” She nodded. “A pistol?” Another nod. “And you’re prepared to go down with me to the shooting range and learn about things like ballistics and safeties? And to practice until you’re both comfortable with a gun and accurate with it?” When she nodded, he nodded back. “Good. Then you’re halfway to being able to defend yourself.”
