In the Shadow of Revenge

by Patricia Hale

  She swallowed the pills. “I thought I could get something out of him if I played into him a little further. I just figured I’d say no when I needed to and he’d back off. I think he knows who we are,” she said.

  My heart sank, but I kept my mouth shut and waited for her to say more before I came clean.

  “He asked me who you were, but I got the feeling he already knew.”

  “What did you tell him?” Ben asked.

  “Nothing, but I think that’s why he got mad although he made it seem like it was about sex.”

  “Be specific,” I said to her. I thought I might be sick.

  “He asked me who the woman was I was with the night we met at Gritty’s. When I asked him why he wanted to know he just laughed and said, ‘Maybe she’ll put out, ’cause I ain’t getting nothin’ from you.’”

  “What an ass.”

  “I told him that I didn’t give out information about my friends and he looked angry for a minute, but then he laughed and said, ‘Well then, darlin’, what will you give?’ I told him I wanted to leave and he started yelling that we’re all alike and he was sick of it. I went for the door and he grabbed my wrist and pinned me against the wall. He pulled my skirt up and then just stared at me like he was debating on whether or not to continue.” She started to cry. “I kept thinking of Hilary... She was only nine years old.”

  I rubbed her back and she stiffened under my hand. “What?”

  “Nothing, sore from hitting the wall I guess.”

  “So did he...?” Ben’s question faded and I knew he didn’t want to say the words out loud.

  Amelia shook her head. “No, he just stared at me. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face. He kept me pinned against the wall holding my wrists over my head and then he said, ‘I know you and I know your friends. You tell anyone about this and I’ll finish what I started.’”

  Ben combed his fingers through his hair and paced to the other side of the room then turned to face me. “We can’t just let this go.”

  “We have to,” I said. “If we call the cops they’ll slap his hand and he’ll run the minute they release him. Like it or not, you know it’s the truth.”

  “Cecily.” The harshness in Ben’s voice surprised me and I looked at him. “It’s not up to you to serve justice on this guy.” His eyes were hard and his jaw twitched.

  “I’ll talk to Marquette. See what he thinks.”

  “So you’ll take his advice, but not mine?”

  “He was a cop. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Marquette?” Amelia said. “Isn’t he...”

  “I was going to tell you.”

  She nodded, taking my answer in stride. “I’m not hurt and we can’t blow this. He’s looking for something that has to do with us.”

  “I think he’s using us to find Hilary.”

  “Why?” Amelia asked.

  “That’s what we need to find out.”

  Ben turned on his heel and left the room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Just as the sun edged its way beneath the window shade Ben slipped out of bed and pulled on his running shorts. Normally, this is when I turn over for another hour, but I’d hardly slept all night, no sense in trying now. I couldn’t stop thinking about how close I’d come to losing Amelia last night. Dobbs could have done so much more than bruise her skin. He’d already, in a sense, taken Hilary from us and now Amelia was at risk. I could end up losing them both and having to face my greatest fear. Had I just done something that day in the railcar, I might have saved us all from the demons we faced as adults. The feeling that I would pay for that someday kept me returning to the ritual, like a sinner to Sunday Mass.

  When the apartment door clicked shut behind him I wrapped myself in the thick terry cloth bathrobe that lay at the foot of the bed and walked barefoot across the pile carpet. From the top shelf of the closet I removed a long wooden box, careful not to make a sound. Amelia had spent the night in our guest room and I didn’t want to disturb her, nor did I want her to interrupt me.

  I locked the bathroom door and set the box on the back of the toilet. My hands were shaking. I set the purple candles on the shelf beneath the mirror, one on either end, and lit them. Then I pressed my hands against the glass and closed my eyes imagining that one hand was holding Amelia’s, the other Hilary’s and I repeated our mantra, this time with specifics.

  Sisters today and sisters tomorrow, no one shall come between. Let it be heard as it is said, J.D. Dobbs, off with your head.

  Adrenaline jump-started my heart at the addition of his name. It pounded against my chest in anticipation. I reached back into the box and lifted out the straight razor. The overhead light bounced off the metal and into my eyes. I knew I should perform the rite with only the candles and the mantra and that the razor was a thing of childhood clubhouses and blood sisters, not something one carries into adulthood. But I couldn’t let it go. The blade was for me what alcohol was for Hilary and I hid my addiction beneath expensive foundations and designer clothes.

  I turned my hand palm-up and laid the steel edge against the fleshy mound at the base of my thumb. Remembering Marquette’s glance and the uncomfortable silence that ensued, I moved the razor to a place my shirt sleeve would conceal and applied pressure until I saw the familiar red trickle run down the inside of my arm. A drop of blood hit the white porcelain sink and faded to pink as it blended with water. Performing the ritual always left me comforted by the sisterhood it invoked and disconcerted that I still needed it as much as I did.

  By the time Ben came back from his run with the usual weekend bag of bagels, Amelia and I were on the balcony sipping Breakfast Blend. She looked worse than she had the night before, the muscles in her face clenched and twitched. One wrist was discolored and swollen and she held it tight against her stomach when she moved.

  “Broken?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Just sore.”

  My rage grew every time I looked at her. She was fragile and frightened. Even the threat of rape slashes a woman’s confidence tenfold. I couldn’t wait to watch Dobbs go down.

  My phone rang and I asked Ben to go get it, not wanting to leave Amelia.

  He answered, rolled his eyes and mouthed, “Marquette,” then handed me the cell.

  “Do you ever take a break?” I asked. “It’s Saturday, you know.”

  “Some of us don’t have time to put our feet up, counselor.”

  “Is that some kind of dig?”

  He laughed. “I’ve got something for you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Dobbs used to work for Duane Wainwright.”

  I rocked forward and put my feet on the ground. “Are you sure?”

  “That’s what his Social told me. He must have been about seventeen at the time.”

  “Why didn’t this come out years ago?” I set my mug on the table before I dropped it and glanced up at Amelia and Ben’s questioning faces.

  “An oversight. Wainwright was an easy collar for the robbery. His fingerprints were all over the weapon. We didn’t look any further. Didn’t need to. If we had, we might have come up with Dobbs then. Regardless, it’s looking like the rape was no random act,” Nick said. “Dobbs had to have known that Hilary was Wainwright’s daughter. He targeted her specifically and I have a hunch why.”

  “Care to share?”

  “Not until I know I’m right.”

  I hung up the phone and repeated Marquette’s information.

  “Shit,” Amelia said.

  “You can take this back to DeLonge,” Ben said. “It’s a place for them to start.”

  “It proves Wainwright and Dobbs knew each other. DeLonge wants proof that Dobbs raped Hilary and he doesn’t want to have to work for it. How many cops you know who’re
champing at the bit to open an eighteen-year-old case based on a couple of coincidences?”

  “If you tell him what Marquette just told you, he’ll have to look into it.”

  “Do you want to entrust nailing Dobbs to someone who has to. Or someone who wants to?” I asked. “We’re close, but we’re not there yet. Marquette said he’s working on a hunch, but isn’t sharing yet. Let’s sit tight until he does.”

  Ben stared at me, and I could see from the look on his face that he wasn’t into the cat and mouse idea. Normally I wouldn’t be either, but Dobbs was a game changer. If I could gather enough information to draw the attention of the police then I could go toe to toe with him before a judge. I’d have home court advantage and his head would roll. Not just for Hilary, but for me too. It was time to free the little girl who was still afraid of her brother and clinging to a childhood pact. And if I got Dobbs, I could forgive myself for letting Hilary down all those years ago. Maybe she could too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “How likely is it to successfully pin an eighteen-year-old rape on someone?” I stood in the doorway of Michael Steele’s office. When I want an answer I don’t dick around. I go to the horse’s mouth.

  “Highly unlikely. What have you got?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t want to give him answers, just ask questions. “Nothing,” I said. “I was just reading up on an old unsolved case over the weekend and was curious, that’s all.”

  “It’d be pretty impossible unless you bring them in on a new charge and then imply that they may be linked to an old case.”

  I turned back toward my office, my three-inch heels annoyingly loud on the linoleum floor. I wondered if Ben was right and felt my faith waver. But Dobbs had already made some fumbles; he shouldn’t have come back to the scene of his crime, he shouldn’t have said his mother was dead and he shouldn’t have told Amelia that he knew who she was. He’d stumble again and when he did, I’d be there waiting.

  The next morning I was outside Marquette’s office building when he arrived.

  “Why did Dobbs target Hilary?” I asked, following him into the elevator, juggling my briefcase and coffee. “What possible reason could he have had to molest a nine-year-old?”

  He took my briefcase out of my hand and when the door opened, carried it down the hallway. “My guess is that Wainwright pissed him off and it was payback.”

  “That’s a pretty hefty payback. Did he fire him?”

  “Don’t know yet.” He unlocked his office and set the briefcase on the floor beside his desk. “Even so, that doesn’t seem like enough reason for doing what he did.”

  “A lot of people flip out when they get fired,” I said.

  “Postal workers, not seventeen-year-old boys. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find another place to pump gas.”

  “So what’s your hunch?”

  “It was over more than a job.”

  “That’s it?”

  He smiled and tilted his head. “You hired me, right?”

  I nodded.

  “So let me do my job and have a little faith. By the way, nobody’s living in the house in Millers Falls, but somebody’s been there. I knocked on the door and nobody answered, so I looked in the windows. Layers of grit over everything and a bottle of beer on the kitchen counter without a speck of dust on it.”

  “I’m afraid he might be ready to run.”

  “Thought your friend was keeping him on a lure?”

  “Not anymore. He told her he knows who we are then roughed her up and threatened her not to tell anyone or he’d finish what he started.”

  Marquette raised his eyebrows. “Is she pressing charges?”

  I shook my head. “We could lose him altogether if we haul him in for assault.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “As much as it sucks, we both know it’s not enough that a guy slaps his girlfriend around. Should be, but isn’t. And it’s already been twenty-four hours. If she goes in now it looks like she’s undecided about pressing charges.”

  “Is she okay with that?”

  I nodded.

  He shook his head and looked disgusted but didn’t voice it. “If Dobbs told her not to tell anyone, then he isn’t going anywhere yet. He’s here for a reason and it sounds like he’s not leaving until he gets what he came for.”

  Marquette’s cell rang and he looked at the caller ID. “Speaking of women...” He reached for the phone. “Hi.”

  He nodded a few times, agreeing with whoever was on the other end. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was his ex or a girlfriend and what she looked like. Tall, thin, model-ish, hot...

  “I agree,” he said and then, “Absolutely not.” He hung up the phone and looked at me. “My daughter wants to go to the mall with her friends, alone.”

  “And?”

  “She’s ten years old. The answer is no. One of the rare times my ex and I agree. She needed back up.”

  “Kind of like good cop, bad cop?”

  He smiled. “I guess that sums it up.”

  “And which one are you?”

  “You need to ask?”

  “You were always the good one to me,” I said. The words came before I thought about them. A nostalgic look crossed his face and I’m pretty sure he blushed.

  “So where do we go from here?” I asked.

  “I’ll go see Wainwright. Once I tell him I’m no longer a cop he might relax and talk. Maybe I’ll get my oil changed and we can shoot the shit about the good ol’ days.”

  “Were there any?” I asked.

  He looked thoughtful and then winked. “Maybe the good ones are yet to come.”

  “Let’s hope so,” I said, not sure if he was talking about the case or something else. “Call me.” I picked up my briefcase and turned to leave.

  “Looking forward to it,” he said as I closed the door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I wandered down Congress Street delaying going to work, dawdling at storefronts in the Old Port and thinking about Nick Marquette for no specific reason when my cell phone rang. I checked the caller ID and answered. “Hi, Mom.”

  “I want you and Ben for dinner tonight and won’t take no for an answer.”

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “Why does it have to be an occasion? What if I just want to see you?”

  I almost laughed. Not you, I wanted to say. “What about Jarod?” I hadn’t forgotten our last conversation.

  “I left him a message, but he hasn’t called back. I’m sure I won’t hear from him. You know your brother, he always has something better to do than visit his mother.”

  “Can’t promise Ben will make it,” I said, “but if Jarod’s not coming, I’ll be there at six.” I clicked off and cut through Jefferson Square, weaving through others like myself who were juggling briefcases and morning joe. The one similarity Jarod and I shared was a mutual dislike of our mother. But while I maintained a relationship with her out of guilt, he was indifferent.

  A half block from the courthouse I rehashed my last two conversations with Ben. He hadn’t been happy last night regarding Marquette working with us, or this morning when I’d rebuked his attempt to put his foot down about the police. “What the heck are we doing with our lives if everything we work for can’t be trusted when it comes to us personally?” he’d asked over breakfast. A good question and one for which I didn’t have a comeback. Instead, I’d kissed him on the cheek, begged for patience and left to go see Marquette, feeling like I was cheating on him.

  When I reached the courthouse steps I made a conscious decision to leave Ben and my family on the sidewalk and entered through the revolving door. A stack of briefs sat front and center on my desk. I glanced at them and looked quickly away, ignoring the tug on my conscience. I’d been s
huffling priorities like a deck of cards and Hilary always came out on top. I slid the ever growing pile of briefs to the edge of my desk, opened my computer and did a people search on J.D. Dobbs. By four-thirty my case files still sat untouched and I had nothing more on Dobbs than what I already knew. I gave up, accepted the day as a washout and headed for home. Ben was opening a beer as I came through the door.

  “I’m going to Millers Falls for dinner. You want to come?”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Do we have to go through this every time? A yes or no will do.”

  “Ah, no?”

  “Fine.”

  I slipped out of my black pencil skirt and into a pair of faded blue jeans, tucked in the royal blue button-down I’d worn all day and cinched a western belt around my waist. I joined Ben on our small patio and took a sip of his beer.

  “Didn’t you just eat with her a couple days ago?”

  “Yup.”

  “Why again so soon?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s lonely, I think.”

  “I’ll come if you really want me to,” he said.

  “I really want you to.”

  He groaned, then took my hand and kissed it.

  The drive from Portland to Millers Falls is only about thirty minutes, but it was enough time for me to lean back, close my eyes and let my thoughts run. Unfortunately, they ran in a direction I was unprepared for. I saw a young Officer Marquette lifting my bike into the trunk of the squad car as he had on the day I’d gone back to get the Ouija board. His face had changed some, it was fuller now, but mostly it was his eyes that were different. Years ago they’d been bright with the hunger of a new cop; now they were wiser, solemn given what they’d seen. But the wink was there and the same grin that had won my trust that night in the kitchen. I smiled to myself, then I opened my eyes and reached for Ben’s hand.

  My mother’s front door swung wide as Ben and I approached. Jarod stood grinning at me, his hand resting on the old-fashioned glass doorknob. He’d aged since I’d last seen him, grown a potbelly and a beard, but his eyes were the same, smug and arrogant, like he knew something I didn’t.