I had said no. I intended to stick with that answer.
And yet…
I couldn’t help but wonder if I could do something to help Eric. It seemed strange that he had a head’s up about his impending charges. The victim wanted to settle things outside of court, which usually meant outside the court of the public’s opinion. If word did come out, there was a good chance Eric’s career would be over. Especially in the current societal environment, sexual abuse and harassment was not forgiven, and things that happened long ago had a way of showing up years later and haunting offenders in the present.
The fact that she asked for a settlement was usually a good sign. I believed Eric when he said he didn’t do it, but if she was giving him an opportunity to settle before this came out, it typically meant her motive was money and that there wasn’t hard evidence that a crime took place at all.
Still, that didn’t mean I could make a difference. I understood why Eric couldn’t go to the cops, but that didn’t mean I was the right person for the job.
I pulled up in front of my father’s home. The quiet street of Lincoln was still filled with natural light, though the sun was slowly making its descent against a glittering Pacific Ocean nearby. Besides his old pickup truck I remember him having since I was in grade school parked on the driveway, his yard was kept but empty. He definitely needed to upgrade a few things – a rusted black mailbox, the wooden fence that was giving way to the elements – but I knew it would be a while before he decided to actually do these things. They had been on my mother’s list of things to upgrade before she died unexpectedly, and he wasn’t going to do something he saw as her job.
Her death still haunted him, even seven years later.
I stepped into my father’s home and shut the door behind me. I knew he was already in the backyard waiting for me to arrive. Our weekly dinners were something we did religiously ever since I moved into the dorms at the University of California, Irvine. He was all I had; I was all he had, and despite our busy schedules, we wanted to prioritize seeing each other. Even though things had calmed down somewhat for me, we kept the dinners.
“Right on time,” he said when I stepped into the backyard. A soft breeze tickled my skin and teased my hair out of its loose ponytail. “I got Wedge Burger.”
I grinned. “My favorite.”
“Extra sauce, chocolate shake.” He tilted his own cup – no doubt a Diet Coke already half-drunk – towards me. “I know my daughter better than the back of my hand.”
“I would hope.” I dropped into the chair and felt the weight of the world slide off of me for a moment. It always made me feel better when I was around my dad, as though life wasn’t quite as hard. “I order the same thing every time.”
“I think I forgot –“
“You didn’t say no tomatoes.” I pulled out the thick slice of the vegetable and tossed it into the white paper bag. “Almost, Dad. Maybe next time.”
He took a long sip of his drink, allowing me a moment to chomp into my burger and settle in. I appreciated the fact that he didn’t automatically start peppering me with questions about how my week was and what I planned to do next week. I was especially grateful that he didn’t ask me questions about my dating life – or lack thereof even though he could have, given my most serious relationship was with one of his top players.
Speaking of Eric, I knew I would have to bring him up today, even though I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to. I didn’t know what my father knew, but after talking to Eric, it seemed as though he knew something. What that was, I didn’t know. And judging by the casual way he was popping fries in his mouth and slurping his Diet Coke, he didn’t seem perturbed by it. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.
“Dad,” I said once I satiated my hunger for the time being, “Eric called me.”
He stopped drinking and slowly put his drink down on the table. Instead of asking me anything, he laced his fingers together and waited.
I glanced down at my food and grabbed a French fry. “He told me what happened,” I said, then quickly amended, “what’s going to happen, I should say. He wants me to look into it for him.”
There was a long, drawn out moment. I didn’t know why, but I was holding my breath. It was as though I was waiting for him to warn me against the case or to brush it off as though I was an unnecessary part of the equation.
“Okay,” he said instead, ripping open a packet of ketchup and squeezing it on the paper bag.
“And, uh, I said no.”
His brows shot straight up into the sky, wrinkling his forehead. “Okay,” he said, dunking a fry into the ketchup. “Tell me.” He popped the French fry in his mouth but continued to speak around the food. “Was the reason you said no to Foresburg because –“
“No.”
I shot my father a look. He should know better than to bring up my previous relationship with Eric. We didn’t talk about it when Dad talked to me about hockey and coaching strategy. We both pretended that he was just another unimportant player and that he hadn’t been the love of my life for a very short blip in time.
“I just wanted to ask –“
“Dad.”
“Okay, honey.” He sighed and took another long sip of his drink. He had practically finished the drink. “I just – I just want to make sure you’re not letting the past dictate the present.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you ask?” I dropped the remainder of my burger on my bag and crossed my arms over my chest, deciding to wait him out. My eyes narrowed, my lips pressed together. I ignored the tickle of the sea breeze as it caressed my bare neck, the soft rustling of the leaves my father had in his backyard singing a soothing song. It completely contradicted my mood right now, but even the peacefulness of Newport Beach was not enough to distract me from my father’s ignorance.
“I know how much you cared about him,” my father replied. He started tapping on his bag, making an annoying thwack sound each time he did it. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to help him because of – because of what happened between the two of you.”
“Dad.” I let out a frustrated sigh through my nose, flaring my nostrils in the process. I glanced to my right, eyeing a porch swing my mother insisted my father buy even though he knew she would never use it. It was rusted from the elements, the upholstery ripped up, dirt and spiderwebs at home on different cracks and crevices for the past three years. It moved slightly in the breeze and I wondered if my mother was here, right now, with us. “I have a reputation to uphold. In this day and age, if I were to come out defending Eric when a woman had accused him of rape, I could be losing tons of potential clients. Women wouldn’t trust me to investigate their rapes because I sided with an alleged offender.”
“You don’t believe that bullshit, do you?” My dad gave me a disappointed look and I dropped my eyes. Even though I believed in my convictions, I hated how child-like he could make me feel. I hated disappointing him more than anything. “You aren’t taking Eric’s side; you’re not even helping him prove his innocence. You would be conducting your own investigation, completely unbiased either way.”
I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“Think about it, Meeks,” he said, throwing his arms out. “You’re not trying to help Eric. You’re not trying to help the accuser. All you’re doing is conducting an investigation. If he did rape her, you would be able to find the proof. You know you would. And if you don’t…”
“Just because I don’t find proof doesn’t mean he’s innocent.”
“Come on, Mika.” My dad’s voice was flat but there was an underlying edge to it. “You know Eric. Do you honestly think he’s capable of raping a woman.”
“I knew Eric. Years ago.” I didn’t like where this was going. I looked back at that swing. It stopped moving, even in the breeze. “Just because I knew him doesn’t mean I know him.”
“Sure it does.” My father was getti
ng annoyed, I could tell. “You know Eric isn’t the type to take something. He’s a good looking guy. He doesn’t need to rape a girl to get what he wants.”
“Dad, ew. Please don’t tell me –“
“I know Eric. Eric is a good kid. It pisses me off that some girl he slept with once is going to completely ruin him.” He slapped the table, causing me to jump.
“How do you know she’s lying?” I asked.
“How do you know she’s not?” he shot back. “You have the resources, the experience. You could solve this –“
“The cops can solve it,” I pointed out, but we both knew that argument was weak.
“Yeah, I’m not even going to respond to that bullshit,” he replied. “You could help him, Mika. If not for him, for me. She’s going to make a statement tomorrow. She’s going to come out and say he did this horrible thing. And in this day and age, no one is going to question her. Everyone is going to believe her. And I’m going to lose my best center. Please, Mika. Don’t think of it as Eric asking. Think of it as me, your father.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, shaking my head. “I’ll think about it, Dad,” I said.
He huffed a sigh. “I guess that’s all I can ask for,” he muttered.
“Yeah, well, it’s all I can give right now,” I said.
I leaned my head back against the chair and stared up at the sky. I still didn’t know what I was going to do, but my father had put a wrench in my plans at staying out of it. I shouldn’t care, but I did. There was some small part of me that wanted to help. And that small part of me was starting to grow bigger.
Chapter 5
I strolled into my office the next day just before nine am. I had a small television set up and flipped it to one of the basic news channels. If this was going to happen, if this alleged victim was going to announce to everyone that Eric was a rapist, I wanted to watch it live. I wanted to hear what she had to say, study her facial inflections, her emotions, anything I could. I was recording it on my DVR at home so I could rewatch it if necessary.
I dropped into my chair and started pulling out a couple of files. Commercials for local fast food joints played in the background. I had a couple of clients coming in today to drop off checks and collect their evidence, including the Creekers. That would be applied to my rent as soon as I deposited it.
“…channel seven news,” the news caster said after the familiar theme music. “Before we get into our first story, we’re going to cut to a press conference thrown by Ashley Dunham, a twenty-three year old grad student from UCI.”
I looked up from my file – I wanted to double-check Beech had signed my contract – to catch a look at this young woman who was about to ruin Eric’s life. I began to tap my foot underneath the table, bouncing my knee up and down. I grabbed a pen and started to click it, waiting to see what she had to say.
My first impression of her was that she looked like the quintessential good girl. Her chestnut brown hair was curled and pinned to the top of her head. The style reminded me of high school cheerleaders where appearance was part of the uniform and perfection was key. Her eyes were a pretty shade of blue, her face symmetrical. She was petite, slender – the kind that was obvious she worked out – and she dressed in professional attire composed of a fitted pencil skirt, a collared long-sleeved shirt, and high heels.
She was pretty. I could see why Eric was attracted to her.
She cleared her throat. A man stood beside her and gave her a gentle squeeze. I imagined this was her attorney signaling her that she could begin talking.
“H-hello.” She seemed shy. Her hand reached up and played with the end of her ponytail. “M-my name is Ashley. Ashley Dunham. Thank you all for being here. Um…” She dropped her eyes to the podium she stood behind. My eyes narrowed in on the fact that her fingers shook. Stray strands of dark hair fell into her face but she didn’t bother pushing them away. I wondered if they offered her a safety blanket she could hide behind if she needed it. “I am here because I felt it was important to, uh, to let the general public know about a particular individual everyone, especially in this city, seems to care a lot about.”
She flipped her notecards over. Her eyes scanned the written words before she spoke.
I leaned back against my chair, arms crossed over my chest, wondering if she was a good actor or if she really was this timid. It wouldn’t be a bad strategy, to come across as completely weak. It would vilify Eric more; right now, Ashley looked like a girl that needed protection.
My eyes flitted over to her lawyer and I nearly rolled my eyes. Why hadn’t I looked at him more closely before? Her lawyer was Ryan King. He was a good-looking smooth talker, and unfortunately, used his last name as part of his slogan: Why hire an attorney when you could hire a king?
It was cringe-worthy to the ninth degree.
And somehow, many of my targets had him as a lawyer. Half the time he was in my office, being charming, half the time he was indignant. One would never know, but he was actually really damn good at his job. So much so that Beech absolutely loathed the guy. If I didn’t loathe the guy, I’d think the whole situation was hilarious.
“Eric Foresburg is the first-line center of the Irvine Buccaneers, the professional hockey team that plays out of the Five Point Ice Arena at the Great Park,” Ashley continued. I was surprised how quickly her voice gained confidence, especially after stammering before. “Eric Foresburg is lauded as a future Hall of Famer. He does numerous things for local charities. And people who meet him in person on the street have nothing but the nicest things to say about him.”
At that moment, Ashley looked directly in the camera. Her gaze was hard, unflinching. If anything, she seemed angry.
“Eric Foresburg raped me.”
I shuddered. The statement sounded true. There was power behind it, but also conviction. She honestly believed that Eric raped her. Hell, I believed her.
This wasn’t good for Eric.
I shifted my attention to Ryan King on her right. I wanted to see how he was reacting to this speech, considering the guy had a flair for the dramatic. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if he wrote this speech for Ashley Dunham, including exactly where she was supposed to stutter.
I expected to see his lips twist up in a cocky smirk – a normal look for his sculpted face. In reality, he was stoic, his light brown eyes focused on his client, arms at his sides.
Huh.
That wasn’t what I expected from the guy at all.
Unease filled my body. Could it be that Eric really –
No. Not Eric. Never.
Except…
Except…
I didn’t really know him. Not anymore. I knew the Eric from three years ago. That Eric would never do anything like rape someone. I knew that with all of my heart.
But this Eric? I didn’t know him. And that wasn’t a bad thing. I wasn’t part of his life anymore. He didn’t know me, he didn’t know the woman I was now. As much as I wanted to have faith that Eric was absolutely, positively incapable of inflicting harm on another woman, I couldn’t.
Which meant, if I wanted to do a good job with this investigation, I would have to be completely unbiased. Sure, Eric hired me. Sure, he was my client. But that didn’t mean I was in the business of proving his innocence. I intended to solve the case – or help the police solve the case. I looked for the truth, regardless of what that truth was.
There was a collective gasp heard in the audience. Ashley did not seem to flinch and Ryan King at long last curved his lips upward. I knew for sure that he was responsible for this speech now. That line had the intended reaction and he was proud of it.
“September nineteenth, a couple of weeks after the Irvine Buccaneers began their preseason training camp, I, along with three of my girlfriends, headed to a club in Costa Mesa. We knew the team liked to frequent there Friday nights and we were all big fans and wanted to meet them. I met Eric almost immediately after we got in. He bought me drinks. He said he
liked the way I looked in my black and red dress, that red was his favorite color now because of how I looked in the color.”
I clenched my teeth and looked away. The line was cheesy. Unfortunately, Eric had told me the same thing, except instead of a red dress it was my green eyes.
I also knew that everything she said so far seemed plausible. The team did frequent that nightclub. Luxe in Triangle Square, just off the 55 freeway was popular among college students and businessmen, with the occasional athlete every now and then. Whenever Eric’s best friend, Kevin Durante, invited him out – usually after a win – Eric would accept because of the cheap drinks and the good music.
“From there, we danced. We kissed. And when he asked me back to his place, I said yes.”
I furrowed my brow. That piece of information didn’t sound like Eric. He wasn’t the type to take someone back to his place.
Then again, maybe he changed. Maybe he really was a different person than the Eric I once knew.
Just because he didn’t take you back to his place doesn’t mean he didn’t take other girls.
I pressed my lips together and crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t know why this seemingly innocuous statement was so infuriating to me. I didn’t know why I was restraining myself over defending something that happened years ago.
I shook my head at my own antics, mumbling something about how pathetic I was acting.
“You have a case to solve, for crissake.”
“We got back to his Newport Beach home a few minutes later. Eric has a thing about not parking on inclined driveways or in the street, even in a neighborhood in Newport Beach. He led me through the garage and into his home where he proceeded to pour me wine. I’m almost positive it was laced with some kind of sedative or something to make me weak and unable to fight back.”
I snorted at this. I ignored the fact that she knew about Eric’s weird habit with his cars, ignored the fact that he preferred red wine to white, and homed in on the one thing I knew didn’t sound like Eric: spiking the drink.
Ice Breakers Page 3
