I thought about the day in the railcar and how I’d wondered then if I’d be next. No more wondering.
“Where the fuck is she?” He twisted my foot so that I had to turn my whole body around with it or my ankle would have snapped. I was facing out from the ladder. I wrapped my arms around the side rails and held on as tight as I could to support my weight, then I lifted my other boot and drove the steel toe as hard and fast as I could in the direction of Dobbs’s voice. I connected. It was like kicking an over-ripe pumpkin. I felt it give.
“Fuck,” he yelled and I was free.
I scrambled up the rest of the metal rungs and found the window. For a minute I wasn’t sure I could fit, but the alternative was back down the ladder. I put my left arm through and tucked my right arm tight to my side, then I turned my head to the left. I inched my head through and an earring ripped from my ear. My right shoulder came next. Wriggling wormlike I got myself out up to my waist, ignoring the sensation of skin rubbed raw. My pelvic bone was pressed against the cement edge of the window and hurt like hell. I inched my butt through, feeling a layer of skin scrape away as I did. I vowed more Pilates and finally pulled free.
“You know there’s a door at the other end,” a voice said.
I looked up. A man and a young boy stood a couple of feet away, watching.
I looked back at the opening, no sign of Dobbs.
“Just wanted to see if I could do it,” I said.
The man extended a bandana. “Doesn’t look like it was worth it.”
I looked down to see blood coagulating on my elbows, dripping from my knees and tingeing the front of my shirt pink. I shrugged and took the bandana.
He checked his watch. “Only a few minutes till the ferry leaves,” he said.
I pocketed the bandana, sure he didn’t want it back now that it had my blood all over it. “Thanks,” I said and started to jog back to the shoreline, looking over my shoulder and wincing with every step.
I didn’t see Dobbs on the return trip, but I also didn’t look for him. I sat beside the captain’s wheelhouse and never moved. When we arrived at the Portland pier, I called Nick.
“Marquette,” he said.
I burst into tears.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Nick pulled up to the curb outside of the ferry terminal, he took one look at me sitting on the bench and jumped out of the driver’s door.
“What the hell happened?”
I hadn’t gone into detail on the phone, just told him to come, and to make it quick. The breeze on the ferry had dried my wounds so that now my skin cracked every time I moved. I winced as he helped me into the car. He drove to his apartment without asking me where I wanted to go, but he had it right. I wasn’t ready to face Ben. I knew he’d flip out, angry that I’d gone off alone. Nick would clean me up and then ask what I had for information. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was more that he understood the job came with a few bruises. He settled me on his couch, handed me a glass of Jack Daniels and then kneeling in front of me, began dabbing at my knees with a sudsy washcloth.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” he said.
I told him about my plan to take the day off and escape to the Punchbowl and that Dobbs must have followed me. “He’s looking for Hilary. That’s why he’s been after Amelia and now me. He can’t find her.”
“What’d you tell him?”
I looked at him, tipping my head to one side. “What do you think?”
“And he let you walk away?”
“Does it look like I walked away? I went into the underground tunnel and kicked him in the head. That’s the last I saw of him.”
“He wasn’t on the ferry on the way back?”
“I didn’t see him, but I didn’t look for him either.”
Nick dried my knees, applied some antibacterial ointment and sat beside me on the couch. “This looks a little sore,” he said and moved the soapy washcloth to my ear lobe.
“Lost a perfectly good earring,” I said, trying to take my mind off the fact that his lips were so close to my neck.
“You could have lost more than that.”
“Don’t start,” I said. “I didn’t plan this.”
“If our theory is right about him being back for his share of the money, then he must think Hilary knows where it is,” Nick said.
“How could she?”
“Maybe he thinks she stashed it for Duane when he went to prison.”
“I don’t know,” I said, “but I can’t think about it anymore right now.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder not caring what he thought. My body hurt, I was exhausted, I closed my eyes. When I opened them again I was lying on the couch with my head on a pillow. A purple and white afghan had been spread out over me. I could hear Nick rustling in the kitchen. The smell of onions and garlic permeated the air. I swung my legs over the edge of the couch, wrapped the blanket around me like a shawl and went to the kitchen. “Smells good,” I said, leaning against the doorway.
He was just setting two plates of spaghetti and meatballs on the table. “My specialty.”
I sat down and picked up the glass of Chianti in front of my plate and raised it to meet his.
“To information,” he said and winked. “However we can get it.”
“Easy for you to say.” I clinked his glass and took a swallow. “This is just what I need,” I said, and took another sip.
“Do you want to call Ben?”
I shook my head.
“Won’t he be worrying about you?”
“He played golf today. I’m sure he’s still at the Nineteenth Hole. Anyway, I haven’t decided how to explain this to him.”
“Why not the truth?”
“It’ll freak him out. Which means an argument. He’ll tell me all this Dobbs stuff has to stop and I’ll tell him it’s not going to stop until it’s finished.”
“Isn’t it still better to be honest with him?”
“If I’m honest, I have to believe Ben’s had enough.”
“Of Dobbs?”
“Of everything.”
His hand moved across the table toward mine, but stopped before touching me as though having thought the better of it. “And you’re not ready for that?” he asked.
I met his eyes, then looked down at my plate and twirled some spaghetti around my fork. “I’m not sure yet,” I said.
We shared a quiet meal and idle small talk about my work and his daughter. We avoided the elephant in the room, although I didn’t miss for a minute the feel of his hand on my back when we walked to his car or the way his fingers moved through my hair so he could check my ear again and the whisper of his breath on my neck. Each movement lingering a few seconds longer than necessary. When he drove me back to my apartment, we sat for a moment just looking at each other.
“Good luck with Ben,” he said breaking the silence.
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
He pursed his lips and looked at the floor then raised his eyes to mine. He smiled a small smile. “I guess, whatever you want it to.”
I slipped my key into the lock on my apartment door and pushed it open. There were voices in the living room, but before I joined whoever was with Ben I wanted to check my wounds and cover what I could. I slipped into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. The bruise on my cheekbone from Jarod had almost completely faded, replaced by a scraped and bloody ear lobe. I pulled my hair forward, rolled down my sleeves, then exchanged my khaki shorts for a pair of jeans from the hamper to hide my knees. When I opened the door, Ben was standing outside.
“Where have you been?”
“I went to Jewels for a hike.”
&
nbsp; He noticed my ear. “What happened?”
“Took a little spill on the rocks. It’s just a scratch.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I said and walked to the kitchen for a glass of wine. I really didn’t need any after a glass of Jack Daniels and half a bottle of Chianti, but I wanted to completely zone out from the day I’d had. “Who’s here?”
“Jarod.”
I almost dropped the bottle. “What? You let him in?”
“He said he came to apologize.” Ben shrugged. “I didn’t know what to do. He’s your brother. I figured he deserved a chance to set things right.”
“You figured wrong,” I said.
Jarod stepped into the kitchen. “Ben’s right. I’m family.”
“Not mine.” I filled my wine goblet to the brim and looked at him, pointing to what was left of the bruise on my cheek. “Have you forgotten that you threw a glass at me?”
“I overreacted. I’m sorry.”
“You’re a major screw-up and I have no doubt that your ex is completely justified in wanting a restraining order. I’m not putting my standing with the court in jeopardy for you.”
He looked at Ben. “You gonna stand up to the bitch? Don’t us men gotta stick together?”
“Not happening, Jarod.” Ben put his hand on Jarod’s shoulder to guide him toward the door.
“I’m family, asshole.” He turned to me. “This is how you take care of your own?”
“You’re not my family, Jarod. Get out of here.” I followed him out of the kitchen and Ben opened the apartment door.
Jarod stepped into the hallway. He looked back and pointed his finger. “You’ll be sorry, bitch. Really fucking sorry.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I said and slammed the door.
“Jesus, he’s crazy,” I said turning to Ben.
“Guy’s desperate. He was hoping for a second chance.”
“Some people deserve second chances. Not him.”
Ben nodded. “I just hope he doesn’t come looking for payback, like he said.”
“Jarod doesn’t like not getting his way, but I’m not obliging him out of fear.”
Ben nodded and went into the living room. I heard Katie Couric’s voice come from the television and walked down the hallway toward the bathroom, more than ready to wash away the day.
Hot water hit my skin like a thousand tiny needles and I grit my teeth. I’d scraped myself raw squeezing through that bunker window, but it was worth it considering what the alternative might have been. I moved a soapy washcloth over my abrasions and grimaced, trying not to look at the mess I’d made of my body. The sting was as much about pain as it was my luck, or lack thereof. I’d escaped Dobbs only to walk smack into Jarod. I turned off the shower and reached for the bath towel hanging over the rack. As I did, Ben walked into the bathroom. His gaze moved from my torn-open ear lobe, to my scraped shoulders and stomach, to my raw elbows and knees.
“Jesus, you took a hell of a fall.”
I hesitated, but only for a minute. He deserved the truth. “I didn’t fall. I was running from Dobbs. He followed me to the island.” I wrapped the towel around me and brushed past him into the bedroom.
“What? Dobbs did this to you? He followed you?”
“I ran into the underground tunnel to try and lose him. I was trapped. I had to go out through the bunker window. It was a little tight.”
He just stood there looking at me and shaking his head. “Cecily, this has to stop now. You’re in way too deep.” He pointed his finger in my face. “Do you hear me? That’s it. No more. I don’t care how good a friend Hilary is. You’re done. Let her get her own justice.”
“I’m not walking away from her, Ben.”
“You don’t seem to have any problem walking away from your brother. Why not a friend?”
“My brother’s an asshole. Hilary has been there for me my whole life.”
“Hilary spends more time in rehab than she does with you.”
“Don’t be cruel. If we can get her justice then maybe her life will change.”
“She has to do that on her own. You can’t risk your life to change hers.”
“I can and I will.”
“I won’t have it.”
“You’re not in charge of making decisions for me.”
“But I am for me and I won’t be a party to your little cat and mouse game any longer. You’re taking chances and making decisions that could ruin your career. I don’t want to be connected to it. I haven’t worked as hard as I have to flush it all down the toilet over a two-bit rapist like Dobbs.”
“What if that two-bit rapist destroyed your friend’s life?”
“It’s not up to me to put people’s lives back together.”
“That’s cold.”
“That’s reality.”
“Then you do what you have to and so will I.”
“You’re choosing Hilary over me?”
“I didn’t say that. You’re the one giving out ultimatums.”
He took a deep breath. “Why’d you get home so late? The ferries stopped running hours ago. Why didn’t you call?”
“There’s no reception on the island.”
“I mean when you got back. Why’d you walk home from the pier all scraped up?”
“I called Nick Marquette.”
“You called Marquette instead of me?”
“Because I knew you’d react like this.”
“How do you want me to react? A known rapist chases you all over an island, you come home bruised and bloody and I’m supposed to be okay with that?”
I’d rarely seen Ben get this angry and never heard his voice reach this level. I liked it. He did have emotions, but they were displaced and it was too late.
“I’ve had enough of this, Cecily, enough of Dobbs and Marquette and Hilary. I want a normal life. I want to get married and settle down, have a few kids. I’d like to know that you want the same things.”
I shrugged. “Maybe someday, but not now. Right now I have things to do and they involve Hilary and Dobbs and Marquette. I’m not giving that up.”
“Not for me?”
I looked at him knowing our relationship teetered on my answer. “Not for anyone.”
“Then I guess this is it.”
I pulled on a bathrobe and went to the kitchen, leaving Ben in the bedroom. I felt excruciatingly sad. After all the time I’d spent with Ben, he had no idea who I was and maybe that was my fault. But as Hilary had so eloquently put it, he knew nothing of the shit storms in life. His rose-colored childhood had kept him out of the thorns that make us who we are, someone good or someone bad, but someone unique nonetheless. I’d known from the day we got together that my brand of uniqueness was not Ben’s and I’d tried hard to hide it. But relationships aren’t built on omissions.
I carried my wine into the living room and sat on the couch. Stitch jumped into my lap and stretched his face to mine, purring and rubbing his whiskers against my cheek. I could hear Ben wrestling around in the bedroom and then the door to our apartment closed. I buried my face in Stitch’s back and let my tears fall into his orange fur, then I placed him gently aside and went to my closet for the box.
In the bathroom, I lit the candles and dipped my fingers in the wax, I needed to feel my girls around me and then I went straight for the razor. I wanted damage. The day called for it. I looked at the thin red line on the flesh below my thumb. It was still scabbed and slightly swollen from last time. Now that Ben was gone I could stop worrying that he’d notice, stop with the layers of Iman foundation at least when I was home. I pulled the silk sleeve of my robe over my shoulder and chose a new site, sliding the steel down the thin skin on my inner bicep. Blood ran warm over my arm. I dipped my fingers into the ho
t wax and repeated the pact.
Sisters today and sisters tomorrow, no one shall come between. Let it be heard as it is said, any intruder, off with his head.
“Off with all their fucking heads,” I said and pounded my fist against the porcelain sink.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Monday morning I showed up at work looking like I’d just stepped off a red-eye and feeling like it too. At my desk, I buried my head in paperwork, forcing myself to let go of Jarod and Ben, at least for the rest of today. McIntire and I were co-counsel on a case involving a day care assistant, three toddlers and three sets of parents. One couple had a history of domestic violence, another father had pending drug charges and the third was on probation. The parents’ fingers were pointing at the assistant regarding the bruises on their children and the day care was pointing at the parents. All in all, a real nice group of people. McIntire had left the police interviews on my desk for review and I settled in for the day.
At five o’clock I put aside the file and with a yellow legal pad in front of me, I listed reasons why Dobbs might be looking for Hilary. And then I had an idea.
Outside Wainwright’s garage I washed down my BLT with a latte from Starbucks and licked the mayonnaise off my fingers. He wasn’t one to put in long hours, so I suspected he’d be closing up shop soon and heading home to drink himself to sleep. With Hilary still in rehab he was spending evenings in his own living room instead of passing out on the cot in his shop. At six o’clock he flipped the Open sign to Closed and locked the front door. He got into his beat-to-hell pick-up and bounced over the curb toward home.
Technically it wasn’t breaking and entering. I knew there was an extra key hidden in the glove box of the rusted-out Ford Bronco behind the shop. Hilary and I had used it plenty of times while Duane was in Thomaston prison and we were teenagers needing a place to party. On Saturdays, Jewels Island was our place of preference, but on Friday nights Wainwright’s garage was a lot more convenient. I pushed in the silver button and the glove box sprang open. Luckily Wainwright wasn’t smart enough to think he might need a new hiding place after all these years. The silver key sparkled in the sun and was warm against my palm.
In the Shadow of Revenge Page 14
