“So I gather. Is he talking to you about it?”
“What do you think?”
“Stride? I imagine he’s closed up like an oyster working on his pearl. Which means you’re going to have to go in and pull him out.”
“I know.”
“When did the two of you last have sex?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“Well, that’s not acceptable,” Alice snapped. “Who was on top?”
Serena chuckled. She was accustomed to Alice’s explicit interrogations about the details of her lovemaking. “I think it was me.”
“You need to be willing to use that lovely back of yours sometimes.”
“I do, Alice. I promise.”
“You don’t always have to control everything, you know.”
“I know. This isn’t actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not here about myself.”
Alice delivered a pointed stare above the rims of her glasses. “You came to talk to me, Serena, not anybody else. So let’s not pretend you have nothing to say about your own life. You’re concerned about Stride, which means you’re concerned about you and Stride.”
Serena shrugged. “Okay, you’re right. I’m worried about old habits. The easy thing for Jonny is not to talk, and I’m the same way. Sometimes I think he talks to Cat more readily than to me. Actually, it makes me a little jealous. I had a conversation with Maggie yesterday, too, and she told me Stride was burned out and not happy with himself. I told her she was wrong, but you know what? She’s right. And it really pisses me off that she noticed it before I did.”
Alice handed her the stone that she’d been rolling around between her thin fingers. The word inscribed on it was Honesty.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Alice said.
“I suppose I’ll get a bill for this visit.”
“No charge if you tell me more about the sex,” she said with a wink.
“Send me a bill,” Serena replied with a chuckle.
“All right, all right, I’ll stop prying. So what’s the issue today? What do you need my professional opinion on?”
“This is delicate,” Serena replied.
“Ah, so we’re back to sex.”
“Sort of. There’s a woman who has made an accusation of rape. It’s an incident that occurred almost thirty years ago when she was a teenager.”
“I assume we’re talking about the Devin Card story,” Alice replied.
“I can’t say yes or no, but draw your own conclusions.”
“Okay. As we talk about this hypothetical situation, would it be safe for me to rely on the details of that accusation as they’ve appeared in the media?”
“Yes.”
“And you want to know whether this accusation can be considered credible despite how long ago this was,” she said.
“You are too damn smart for your own good, Alice.”
The therapist winked and picked up another rock from her desk, with the word Intelligence etched into the stone. “Tell me what you know. Have you talked to this woman?”
“Yes. She acknowledges that she was drunk the night of the assault. She says she threw up and may have passed out. We’ve been able to identify the likely time and place where it happened, but she can’t verify those details herself. However, she is absolutely certain that she did not consent, that she was raped, and that she knows the identity of the man who did it.”
“And you want to know whether this is a plausible set of circumstances?” Alice asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“I think it’s very plausible,” Serena said.
“You would be correct. It’s perfectly reasonable that a victim would have no clue about the time or place of an assault, or even that she would get many of the accompanying details wrong, particularly if alcohol or drugs are involved. But she could easily still remember being raped and who did it. In fact, I’d be surprised if she didn’t.”
Serena nodded. “Now comes the tough part.”
“Namely?”
“Is it also plausible that she could have made a mistake?”
Alice drummed two of her fingers against her chin. “About which part?”
“Any of it.”
“Well, about whether she was raped at all? That’s extremely unlikely. Some women do manufacture stories of assault, but that’s an entirely different set of circumstances and a very different pathology. If you believe she’s sincere about her memories, then I would conclude that yes, she almost certainly was raped. As to whether she denied consent? That’s much harder to know without context, and both the man and the woman might remember it very differently. On the other hand, if she specifically remembers using words like No and Stop, then I suspect it’s likely that she did so, even if the man didn’t hear it that way.”
“And what about the identity of the man who did it?” Serena said.
Alice’s face twisted into an expression of reluctant discomfort. “Oh, Serena. This is very difficult ground.”
“I know.”
“The overwhelming majority of victims don’t make mistakes about who assaulted them. It’s not a function of how much time has passed. The idea that a victim could be certain about the identity of her attacker decades later—while blocking out many of the other details—doesn’t strike me as unusual in the least.”
“But it does happen.”
“Yes. It does happen. There have been instances where a victim was absolutely certain of her assailant’s identity, and eventually, it turned out that she was mistaken. DNA proved it. In fact, certainty can be your worst enemy. It can feed on itself, making you squash out your doubts because you want to believe in the truth of your memories. On the other hand, that’s far more likely to happen with a stranger, not someone the victim knows. In other words, if this woman actually knew Devin Card and specifically remembered going upstairs with him, I find it extremely unlikely that she made a mistake about that.”
“Thank you, Alice,” Serena said. “That’s very helpful.”
The therapist scooted her chair forward and leaned her elbows on her knees. “And yet you still think she made a mistake, don’t you?”
“I really don’t know. We’ve uncovered some evidence that someone else at the same party may have had a motive to assault her. It could have been an act of revenge against a girl who dumped him that night. And yet the victim knew this person, too, and his name never came up from her. She never mentioned him, never talked about seeing him there. If it was him, I can’t believe she wouldn’t have remembered. I don’t see how she could have substituted someone else in her memory. It’s hard for me to imagine a woman being wrong about that.”
“Then what’s your hesitation? I hope it’s not that you think a man like Devin Card is incapable of behaving like that. Because we both know that isn’t true. No man is truly the master of his dick, Serena. And it’s not that I’m ganging up on Devin. In fairness, I believed the accusations against him seven years ago, but I voted for him anyway.”
“Really?” Serena asked.
“Really. I had a client a few years ago who asked me if I thought it was possible to forgive every sin. I said not only was it possible, it was a human necessity. It doesn’t mean we don’t punish people for what they do, but we also have to accept that people grow and change. And that God’s plan is infinitely more complex than we can understand.”
“Forgive every sin,” Serena said.
“Exactly.”
“That’s hard to do when it comes to rape.”
Alice nodded. “Indeed. In fact, my client said the very same thing.”
29
Curt sat next to Cat on Stride’s sofa and sulked. His mouth was sunk into a permanent frown, and he’d barely said a word since he arrived. His legs were spread wide, showin
g off bony knees below his loose shorts. His long hair sat on his shoulders, limp and unwashed. With his body slumped, even his tattoos seemed to droop on his skin. He looked like a dog whose owner was away on a month-long vacation.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Cat asked.
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want a drink? A beer or something?”
“No.”
“Really? You don’t want a drink, and you expect me to believe nothing’s wrong?”
“Drop it, Kitty Cat.”
Cat sighed loudly. When Curt got into one of his melancholy moods, he didn’t do much more than grunt, and she’d learned over time to keep poking him until he opened up. Ironically, that always seemed to work with Stride, too, although he would have hated the comparison.
Outside, the early evening sky had turned dark, and none of the lights in the cottage were on, making it gloomy inside. Distant thunder rolled continuously, like a plane overhead making endless circles. The century-
old walls rattled and shuddered. Cat could see a spatter of rain on the windows, and more was coming. A downpour.
“What’s up with your Eyes on Duluth thing?” she asked. Then she giggled. “You know, the Big Dickes. Your Ferris wheel down in Canal Park.”
“It’s crap,” Curt replied. “All my ideas are crap.”
“Hey, don’t say that. I like the idea. I think it’s cool. You just need to get somebody with megabucks behind it.”
Curt shrugged. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not in the mood.”
“I don’t lie,” Cat told him. “I mean, okay, I lie all the time. But not about this. I really think it’s great.”
“It’s stupid.”
Cat rolled her eyes. “Fine. Okay. Whatever. It’s stupid. If that’s what you want me to say, I’ll say it. Is that the problem? You can’t get anyone to buy your big Ferris wheel?”
Curt didn’t say anything more, and Cat lost patience with his self-pity. She punched him in the shoulder, hard enough to make him flinch.
“Hey, you get that someone tried to kill me today, right?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Somebody unloaded a whole gun at me and Brayden, and he was hit. So how about you grow a pair and realize that I’ve got shit of my own to deal with. It’s not all about you, Curt!”
That got through to him. His head turned slowly, and he focused his sad eyes on her. “Sorry, Kitty Cat. You’re right. Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. I’m seriously freaked.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“Brayden was bleeding like crazy. I thought he was going to die.”
“Shit. That’s scary.”
Cat glanced at the front door behind her to make sure Brayden was still outside. “We kissed.”
“What?”
“Me and Brayden. We kissed.”
Curt’s eyes widened. “Well, that’s not good.”
“Why not?”
“He works for Stride. Plus, he’s a lot older, right?”
“So what? He’s the same age as you.”
“Yeah, and if anything happened between us, Stride would kick the crap out of me. Assuming I was still alive after Serena got done with me.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care how old he is. I like Brayden. He makes me feel safe. And he’s got this look in his eyes when he watches me, like he understands me. He gets why things are so hard for me. Not many people do.”
“I understand you.”
Cat thought about what to say, because she didn’t want to hurt Curt’s feelings. “No, you don’t. You think you do, but you don’t. I’m not trying to be a jerk, and you know I like you a lot, but you don’t get who I am. You never did.”
“Well, gee, thanks,” he said bitterly.
“I’m sorry. It is what it is. You just can’t relate. Look, it’s not just you. Stride and Serena try, but they don’t get me, either. I don’t know how or why, but Brayden does. We’ve got a connection.”
Curt picked up a paper clip from the coffee table and began playing with it between his fingers. His face still looked unhappy. “For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure he likes you, too.”
“Really? He said that?”
“No, but he didn’t need to say it out loud. Guys know the look. It’s all over his face. Be careful, because if I can see it, Stride can, too, and he won’t be happy.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re right about me, you know. I don’t get women at all. I never have. I suck at it.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” Cat said.
“No, you nailed it. I’m a loser. Colly dumped me today.”
Cat’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Not hesitating, she reached out and pulled Curt into a tight hug. She knew this was the kind of blow that would shake him to his shoes. For all of his macho pretenses, Curt was a vulnerable little boy at heart.
“What happened?” Cat asked. “What did she say?”
“She called me this morning. Didn’t even take five minutes. Said we were done.”
“Did she say why?”
“She said it wasn’t working out. She was bored.”
“Bored? Really?” Cat frowned, because Curt was many things, but he was never boring. “Did you do something to upset her? Did you guys have a fight?”
“Nope. As far as I knew, everything was great.”
She hesitated, biting her lip. “Do you think it could be somebody else?”
“I asked her that, and she ducked the question. That sure sounds like somebody else to me.”
“Do you know who it could be?”
“No. It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, I’m really sorry, Curt. Honestly. You guys seemed good together.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too. I mean, I know it hasn’t been long, but I thought we had something. Hell, she really seemed like she was into me. Nine times out of ten, I have to make the first move, but she saw us talking at the spaghetti dinner and came over after. She said she went to school with you. Anyway, we started talking, and a couple of hours later, we were in bed at my place. It was amazing. I thought I’d hit the jackpot. And now we’re over. One month together, and sayonara.”
“Maybe she’s just having a bad day,” Cat said.
“It didn’t sound like it.”
“You should talk to her. Go over to her place.”
“It won’t make any difference.”
“You want me to talk to her? Talk you up?”
Curt shook his head. “No, that’s okay. I think I’m going to head out, actually. Not that I want to bail on you. I mean, I’ll stay if you want me to.”
“It’s okay, Curt. Go.”
“I just need to take a drive or something.”
“I get it. If you need anything, call.”
Cat leaned over and kissed his cheek, and he gave her a weak smile. She hated seeing Curt with his ego deflated, because he took it so hard. The two of them got up and hugged again, and then Cat walked him to the front door with her arm around his waist. They went outside, where Brayden leaned against the railing on the porch and studied his phone. The sky on the horizon was black, and Cat could see stabs of lightning over the bay water. The drizzle got harder.
“See ya, Kitty Cat,” Curt mumbled, heading down the steps into the rain.
“Yeah, bye, Curt.”
She watched him until he got into his car and headed down the Point toward the lift bridge. Even when he was gone, she didn’t move from where she was. The storm rumbled closer, a shroud of dark, bubbled clouds. She was conscious of Brayden standing silently a few feet away. He’d put away his phone and was watching her, but she didn’t look back at him. Without saying anything, she took a seat on
one of the white Adirondack chairs, and Brayden sat down beside her. The wind was like a wave blowing up the street, tossing the trees.
“That was a quick visit,” Brayden said eventually.
“Yeah.”
“Everything okay?”
“Sure.”
He squinted at the sky. “This is going to be a bad storm.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I like watching the storms.”
“Me, too.”
They were quiet for a while.
“Are you upset with me?” Brayden asked.
“No.”
“Because you look upset.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, you’re being so talkative, it’s hard to tell.”
Cat ignored his sarcasm. She pulled her knees up on the chair and wrapped her arms around them. Her voice was chilly. “I told Curt that you and I have a connection. I think you know that we do, but you’re running away from it.”
“I have a job to do.”
“Does that mean you have to pretend not to feel anything for me?”
“It does sort of mean that, yes.”
“What about when the job’s done?” Cat asked.
“I’ll cross that bridge later.”
Cat shook her head. “Is it the age thing?”
“Partly. It’s complicated.”
“I don’t know why age is a big deal. I’m young, but you know everything I’ve been through. That grew me up fast.”
“I get that.”
“Is it Stride? Does he scare you that much?”
“I’m not scared of Stride, Cat.”
“Well, you can’t be scared of me.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Brayden told her with a smile. “I think you’d be surprised how many men find you absolutely terrifying.”
“That’s bullshit. Most men just want to have sex with me and then walk away. Is that what you want? Because I’m okay with that.”
Brayden waited to reply until she turned and stared into his blue eyes. “You say things like that a lot, but I don’t think you mean it. That’s not the girl you are. Or who you want to be.”
“You don’t think so? Well, I’m telling you, I’m serious. I am. I’m going to go inside and take a shower now. You can join me if you want, and we can do whatever. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that. It could be just like the kiss. We have sex, and then you pretend it didn’t happen.”
Funeral for a Friend Page 22
