My heart thumped wildly when I crested the hill where Lydia Daniels house sat. The big two-story Victorian appeared dark, which I expected considering it was past midnight. What I didn’t expect? The rush of feelings that attacked when I passed the driveway. Empty. Michael’s car was gone…along with the Mini.
I could hardly see by the time I pulled in front of my house from the haze of water clouding my vision. I doubled over, keeping the pain in my gut at bay. Taylor was gone! She really left. My nose ran in a steady stream from bawling my eyes out, and I reached into the glove box hoping for a napkin, but found nothing. Wiping snot across my registration didn’t seem wise.
My fingers wound around Taylor’s cell phone and I clutched it to my chest, letting another wave of emotion rock my body. I couldn’t even call to beg forgiveness for being such an ass and not believing in her, because I held the only link I had to her in my slimy fingers.
I rummaged through the garbage bag, searching for a used napkin, tossing trash onto the floorboard. The faint smell of a cheese burger drifted up my nostrils when I wiped the end of my nose with a crumpled napkin.
I turned on the overhead light and proceeded to clean up the mess. Picking up scrunched receipts, paper cups, and stray straws took all my strength. A large bundle appeared wedged under the passenger seat. I tugged, but it wouldn’t come out.
What the hell?
I had no recollection of shoving something under there. It would have to wait until tomorrow. I only wanted to dump this garbage and go to my room to indulge in a private pity party. Two sheets of folded paper lay on each side of the overflowing bag. I picked up the one closest and pushed it deep inside, but when I reached for the second, it unfolded.
Dear Riley seized a heartbeat.
Headlights filtered through the pines, slowly crawling closer. I didn’t want anyone to see me in my emotional state, let alone try and explain. I grabbed the bag of garbage, and slipped around the side of the house to the back, praying the slider was unlocked. Lucky met me halfway with a menacing growl.
“Hush. It’s me.” Her tail wagged frantically and I breathed, knowing the door would be unlocked if she hadn’t been put in for the night.
The garage door moaned and whined behind the laundry room and I took the stairs two at a time, barely making it into my bedroom before footsteps slapped across the kitchen floor. I locked my door, and grabbed the flashlight I kept in the nightstand drawer, not wanting to turn on my bedroom light. I had to appear asleep to avoid company.
The bag of garbage toppled over, spilling its contents once again when I dropped it on the floor. Quickly, I dragged my beanbag into my tiny walk-in closet, pushing the folding doors together as close as possible. The chair hissed under my weight and I commanded my heart to slow. The shadow of feet blocked the gold strip of light spreading beneath my floor, and the door handle jiggled.
“Riley?” Mom whispered through the doorframe. I remained silent, hoping my breathy pants weren’t too loud. She waited a couple of seconds, repeated my name, and finally gave up. The ribbon of light disappeared and I waited until I heard the creak of my parents’ bedroom door, followed by the clack, signaling closure. I flipped on the flashlight.
Dear Riley,
I don’t know how I can make things right. Maybe I can’t, but I have to tell you I love you so much. With all my heart, which I’m leaving with you, so please take care of it. Being with you, feeling your hands on my body, your lips on mine, your laughter in my ear—Riley, those are the only things that seem real to me, and they’re only memories. Ones I’ll cherish.
Believe me when I tell you that when Michael touches me, I don’t pretend it’s you. That would make me “feel” and ruin what shred of happiness I have left with your memory. I feel nothing. I don’t even hear his voice. I’m dead. He’s with a corpse, because I’m no longer there.
That’s what scares me, Riley. Each time it happens, I move further into some black space where I feel nothing. I don’t even feel my heart beating. Thoughts of death are more welcoming than being with Michael. I don’t believe he’d ever kill me, but I wish for death every time his eyes go black. Maybe that’s why I stole Grammy’s bottle of sleeping pills. Maybe next time when he touches me, I’ll just disappear and never come back.
Riley, I have to leave today. I know when I go home he’ll be waiting and he’ll be mad that I snuck out. I’m hoping I can ward off or lessen my punishment by agreeing to go back to Boston with him. I’ll be gone and out of your life by the time you read this, if you ever do.
Be happy, Riley. I can’t bear to think of you sad. You deserve the best, and I’m damaged. Find someone who makes you laugh, because your laugh is magical. It makes all the bad go away. Just promise me you won’t go back to that slut, Kaylee. She doesn’t deserve you, especially after what she did.
Fill your picture frame with somebody who’ll worship you and treasure every minute with you. If she’s a teacher, all the better. Teachers rock!
Yes, I’m going to marry Michael. Not because I want to, but because I have to. He’s made it clear my dad’s job is at risk, plus he’ll make my life hell forever, if I don’t. So, I guess I am like Mom and Grams after all. I’ll live a loveless marriage to keep up appearances, only I swear I’ll never give the bastard what he wants. An heir to his throne. You were the only one I ever dreamed about having kids with. Michael won’t get that dream. Not from me.
Love you, baby. Thanks for teaching me what true love is. Try not to hate me forever. Knowing how you’ve been raised, you probably need proof to “support the truth.” If so, follow the instructions on page 2, but I warn you. You may never look at me the same, but it won’t matter, because I’ll never see you again. Only in my dreams. The ones that aren’t nightmares.
Here’s me kissing you goodbye. Forever yours, Taylor.
Page two? A second page existed? I kicked the closet doors apart and crawled to the pile of garbage spread across my floor. The other folded piece of paper glowed against the dark carpet. I held it in my fist and scrambled crablike back to my hideaway.
The lump in my throat made breathing nearly impossible and my chest hurt where my heart tried to break through my ribs.
“I warn you. You may never look at me the same…”
The words played in my mind like a ticker-tape warning of impending disaster. But Taylor was right. I needed proof. I just didn’t know that proof would spin my world backwards. I unfolded the page, unsealing the catalyst to my personal apocalypse.
Riley, if you’re reading this, then you must still not believe me. Not sure how I feel about that. Okay, here goes. Today when I went to the clinic to get one of those pills to make sure I didn’t get pregnant after Michael raped me (that’s why I borrowed your truck), I decided to document what I could, in case I disappear you’ll know who to look for, or how to identify my body.
I took pictures with my cell phone before changing back into my clothes. Maybe it was what the doctor said about telling somebody. Maybe it was because I need you to believe me.
So, I’ve left you my cell phone, partly for the pictures, partly so you can never contact me again. Scroll to My Pictures and under the envelope labeled “Death” you’ll find what you need. Each picture is dated so you’ll have the proof I didn’t lie. I’d never lie to you Riley. You are too important to me to disrespect you with untruths.
Sorry, baby. I wish I could take it all back and rewind the clock. But I can’t. It’s over. If you still need more proof, which I’ll probably hate you for, under your seat are DNA samples. But I warn you, Riley, if you have to go that far, we’re done forever. You’ll have taken the last shred of decency I leave this world. Whatever. At this point, it doesn’t matter. –T.
My stomach swirled with nausea, but I’d come this far. I couldn’t turn back. I flipped open the phone. An angel smiled back, a puff of pink spun sugar sticking to the end of her nose. God I missed her and loved her with every shredded piece of my broken heart. How could she say
I’d never see her the same? I’d sell my soul if I could have Taylor in my arms again. If I could be her “super-hero.”
The phone stuck to my sweaty palms. I swallowed a baseball size lump. My breathing stopped a long time ago and my head buzzed with the panic filling every cell in my body. I clicked on “Death” and set the demons free.
Picture one: Her round boobs that fit my hands like they were meant to be there. At first I felt confused. Why this picture? But my brain and eyes finally connected. Red spots dotted her porcelain skin. Hickeys? The asshole is a fucking vampire! But they looked wrong. I enlarged the photo on one of the strange marks, waiting for the pixels to catch up.
I could have sucked my dresser across the room when the picture cleared. Bite marks! I felt the shudder roll down my spine and a slow burn ignited. Having no choice, I pressed the next frame.
Picture two: Taylor’s toned tummy. The one I loved to smother with kisses, listening to her musical giggles from the tickling of my stubbly chin. I could barely make out the tiny silver ring piercing her navel, except that the metal shined against the large green and purple bruise surrounding it. The bastard had to have punched her hard to make that size of a bruise! Fingers of rage clamped my jaw, holding the scream inside.
My thumb rolled over the next image. Picture three: I recognized the lazy seductive curve of her back, the way it scooped slightly before rounding into her tight ass. There was the butterfly, fluttering high on her hip, marking the boundary between lusting and losing control. It’s pretty pink and yellow wings edged a dark burgundy, purple, and ghastly green mark. I flashed the light to my raised foot. The mark had to be at least a size ten—a boot size ten.
One picture remained, but I couldn’t bear to see more. I knew where more bruises or bite marks would be and my stomach couldn’t take it. I don’t remember crashing out of my closet, or the slam of my bedroom door against the wall, knocking my soccer team picture to the floor. All I knew was the feel of cold porcelain against my palms and the burning, uncontrollable heaves of acid bile my gut wrenched into the toilet.
“Riley!” Mom gasped from the doorway, wrapping her terry cloth robe tight around her waist. She went on autopilot, grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet next to the sink and doused it in cold water. The cool wetness wrapped my neck, tempering the spasms in my throat. Her fingernails lightly massaged my scalp, her hushed whispers calming me slightly.
“Sweetheart? Are you okay?”
I flushed my horrid reaction away and leaned back against the wall, drawing slow deep breaths. Mom lowered beside me, staring with a deep crease between her teary hazel eyes.
My voice rasped when I finally spoke. “Where’s Dad?”
“He should be home any minute. He got called to the station on some new case during the movie, so I came home alone. Why? Is something wrong?”
“I need to talk to him. Something’s really wrong, but it’s not me.” I slipped my arm around her shrugged shoulders and feigned a weak smile. “It isn’t Jax either.”
I stretched onto my feet, reaching a hand out to help Mom onto hers. “I need some air. I’ll be out on the deck.” My thumb eased the slice in her brow. “Stop worrying, okay?”
“Not until I’m six feet under and then I’ll just haunt you.”
“Promise to make that scary ‘oooh’ sound?”
She smacked my chest really hard.
**
August would soon end, hopefully taking the sultry nights with its departure. I sat in a patio chair, staring into the glittery spatter against a black velvet backdrop overhead. My T-shirt clung to me with the humidity and I closed my eyes, picturing Taylor pushing it over my head while her lips sampled my salty skin.
This night would have been a perfect night to lie beneath the stars on a blanket together, naked, basking in the afterglow surrounded by colorful ripped packages. A night we talked about, teased about, and planned. Our first real time together, crossing over the threshold in each other’s arms, leaving our childhood behind. A dream that never came true. A threshold she was forced to cross without me there to save her.
I pinched my eyes against the painful image in my head. Jaxson went back on the graveyard shift at work, but he was the only one I could release my secret to at the moment. The only person I’d confided to, which proved our brotherly bond had been reinforced. I flipped my phone open.
She didn’t lie. I have proof. Telling Dad.
I shut my phone off and rested my head against the chair’s metal frame. My neck felt moist from unacknowledged tears and my sobs were silent to my ears until my father’s voice penetrated the deep silence.
“What the hell is wrong? I haven’t seen you cry like this since you were little.”
Mom’s body fit into the space of the open sliding door, her nails nervously rapping against the metal frame.
“Dad, tell Mom to go inside. I need to talk to you alone.”
“Riley, what’s this about?” he asked.
“Please Dad.”
He considered me a minute longer, then without removing his gaze from me, he called out to my mom. “Honey, go inside. This is between Riley and me.”
“But—”
“Bev.” A sharper, but kind demand. A tone we all recognized as the “end of discussion.”
The slider rolled shut and I watched her walk away, defeated.
A lingering sob shuddered over me. “Thanks. I hate doing that to her, but I can’t deal with her reaction right now.” I faced my father, his eyes still studying me. “I’m not sure I can handle yours, either, but I have no choice.”
Dad pulled another patio chair in front of me, placing us knee-to-knee; eye-to-eye. Even with the black surrounding us, I knew he’d watch my eye inflections to see if I told the truth. It took me and Jax until age fourteen before we learned to hold his gaze without shifting eyeballs. Jax could pass any retina test. Poor Dirk. We’d be long gone by the time he’d need to learn our cagey skills.
I pulled all the air I could into my lungs. “Dad, Taylor’s been hurt. Real bad, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
My dad’s head dropped, his question mouthed to the rotting wood slats beneath us. “Did you have anything to do with her being hurt?” Something in the way he said it made the question sound as if he directed it at a suspect, not his son.
“What? Are you thinking I hurt Taylor and this is some warped confession?”
“You tell me, Riley. You were pretty torn up when I came out here, and you didn’t want your mother to hear what you had to say. You set the stage for suspicion, not me. You and Taylor have been joined at the hip for the past two months, which would make you the number one suspect.”
I jumped to my feet, screaming into the darkness. “NO!” Suddenly, the word “suspect” silenced my rant. My dad’s eyes steeled his emotions when our gazes locked. He had on his “cop face” and I figured out fast, I was being interrogated.
“Wait a minute. What did you mean I would be the most likely ‘suspect’? Has something happened to Taylor?” His eyes dropped and my heart slammed to my toes. Salty tears burned the edges of my eyelids. I prepared myself for the worse.
“Dad, I’ve never asked you about any case you were investigating, but this is different. This is Taylor we’re talking about. I’m asking you to cross the line this once, for me. Please? What’s happened to her?”
A few uncomfortable minutes passed, feeling more like hours as I waited, the fear inside me threatening to unleash the beast within.
“Dad?”
The sigh sounded heavy and resigned. “Sit, Riley.”
“No.”
“Fine, suit yourself. I received a call tonight from Dr. Scott at the Planned Parenthood Clinic about a patient who came to see her this morning. The patient was eighteen years old and didn’t want to give any information, but Dr. Scott said her conscience wouldn’t let it go. Especially when she thought I might become personally involved and she wanted to forewarn me. I didn’t know she was talkin
g about Taylor, until you said something. I put two-and-two together based on your emotional instability, and just realized Dr. Scott thinks you’re responsible for Taylor’s injuries.”
“Injuries?” Besides the ones I knew about? The thought terrified me.
“Keep in mind, Riley, I’m sticking my neck out here. Your mouth has to remain shut, regardless of your personal feelings. This is an ongoing investigation and I can’t risk your jealous heart getting in the way and fucking it up so the asshole who is responsible, walks free and hurts someone else. Swear Riley you won’t utter a word of what I’m about to tell you.”
The pebble in the back of my throat didn’t go away when I swallowed. “I swear.”
“First, I’m going to ask you a very personal question and I need you to tell me the truth. The extent of your involvement with Taylor Wilson is pertinent to how we’ll proceed in levying charges. Have you and Taylor ever had sex?”
“No.” The answer came quick without so much as a breath to slow it down.
The sound of relief huffed through my father’s lips. “Thank God.” He drew another breath and I waited. “Dr. Scott said Taylor had significant bruising on her thighs, and well, other injuries associated with a violent assault. A rape. Son, Taylor was pretty battered up. Dr. Scott was alarmed at the extent of damage.”
Picture four.
“You and Taylor have been quite the item around town and unfortunately, Dr. Scott had her suspicions that you were the perpetrator.”
“Me? You honestly think I’m capable of doing something so brutal? To Taylor?”
I felt as if perched on the roof, watching the transformation take place when my “man-beast” erupted. My chair flew over the railing. My voice shrilled to the highest volume I could manage, feeling the strain on my vocal chords. There would be premature balding where wisps of hair pulled through my fists; my cries, heart wrenching and beyond consolation. I dropped to my knees and buried my head in my hands.
Riley's Pond (New Adult Romance) Page 19
