Peg's Stand

by Manda Mellett

  “You’ve made us your enemy.”

  He chuckles again. “Isn’t the first time I’ve heard that.” He points to the men holding guns on us. “Doubt you’d be able to get close. And, take me out? I’ve got a board of directors and someone lined up to follow in my footsteps. No, you’re trapped, Drummer. And you better come to your senses and admit it. Time’s moving along, and with your new high interest rate, every second counts.”

  Drummer looks at me and raises his brow a fraction of an inch.

  For the first time I speak. “Judge Chambers. He happen to take a loan out with your bank?”

  As I’ve been assessing him, I think Mercer’s a man who likes to boast. If I’m right, we could get the evidence we need.

  “Chambers? God, yes.”

  Can I get him to admit more? Deciding to give it a try, I attempt to sound impressed. “So that’s how your son got out of jail.”

  “Of course. And now I’ve got you working for me as well.”

  Ignoring the man holding the gun, Drummer gets to his feet and throws his napkin on his plate. “I’ll have to take this to the table, you understand? Needs a club vote.”

  Mercer’s now forced to look up. “Sure.” He waves his hand. “You run back to your little club. But I already know what your answer will be. Has to be. You understand me?”

  “Oh, I’m hearin’ you loud and fuckin’ clear.”

  I stand up alongside my prez, not at all surprised when we’re escorted out by the men holding guns. They wait as we get on our bikes. As I put my key in my ignition, I say quietly, “Hope you got all that, Mouse.”

  Then, engines started, we ride away.

  Parking outside the clubhouse, backing into our usual spots, before I get off I reach up under my t-shirt and rip the sticky tape holding the tiny microphone off, taking some chest hair with it. I notice Drummer doin the same. Fuck, I’m glad to get that off.

  Drum is waiting for me. “Don’t know about you, Peg, but I’m fuckin’ starvin’.”

  My answer is a grin and a slap to his back as I follow him into the clubhouse, heading straight for the kitchen.

  “Looks like we’ve got two hungry boys here, ladies.” Ma wheels herself across. “Fill a couple of plates.”

  “Always hungry for your food, Ma.” I nod at Sophie, who’s put a laden plate in front of me. Now this is more like it. “Never been fed as well since you’ve been here.”

  Sandy huffs and puts her hands on her hips. “That’s all the gratitude we get? You never complained when you were shovelling our food in your mouth.”

  Drum gives a little shake of his head, and I respond by raising my chin. Not worth arguing. But there’s no doubt Ma knows her stuff.

  There’s a whoosh and a grey streak as another hungry mouth appears. “Grunt. Get down,” Heart shouts as he comes in with his old lady. They’re carrying a baby each, and Amy’s skipping alongside. My appetite flees as I’m consumed by envy. I’d thought that was in my reach, but Mercer took it away.

  I push away my uneaten food. “I’m off to see Mouse.”

  Drum stands. Unlike me, he’s bringing his plate. “Yeah,” he says simply, but the fact he’s not wasting time shows he’s as eager as me to put an end to it.

  Mouse just nods to the chairs in front of his desk as we enter his office. It looks like he’s been expecting us. “Got everything.” He gets straight down to it, as though answering the question I’d asked when I left the golf club. “I’ve passed it to Devil. He’s going to take it to the feds.”

  Devil’s the Englishman who is some kind of a security consultant with useful links in the FBI. Having worked with him a time or two before, I know he’s clearly the best man to take this on. He’s got the credibility that we haven’t. Marcia and Mouse have kept up their contact with him, conducting investigations on his behalf.

  “Good move, Brother. I’d have suggested that myself.” Drum shows no sign that he’s bothered Mouse took it upon himself to contact Devil directly.

  “Any idea what’s going to happen next?”

  A grin slowly spreads over Mouse’s face. “I’d watch this space. Obviously the two of you weren’t undertakin’ surveillance on any official basis, but when they investigate, the facts will speak for themselves. Can’t see anyone throwin’ this out, and I expect to see Mercer in cuffs before too long. Oh, and how was lunch?”

  Drum and I just look at each other and laugh. “Not a patch on Ma’s,” Drummer responds.

  Mouse turns out to be right. The next morning the TV screens are alight with pictures of Mercer being removed from his bank and handcuffed, being put into a police car. The news reports speak of collusion and bribery at the top, and the bank’s assets are frozen during the investigation.

  Chapter 39

  Darcy

  Seeing Mercer brought low almost took my mind off my appointment today with the counsellor Ella had recommended. Almost. My anxiety at what I know will be a difficult interview for me to sit through translates into me being completely indecisive today. At first it was choosing what to wear. I’ve still only a limited wardrobe here, and after going through everything, trying to find something smart, decide I’m being ridiculous, and settle for my usual off-shift uniform of jeans and a tee. Both black.

  Peg’s waiting for me to collect my purse, bouncing the keys to the truck in his hands. He’s not being impatient or hurrying me, just watching me with that look of sadness in his eyes I don’t think he knows is there. Despite me being here and spending every night in his bed, I’m unable to let him close. While he’s pinning his hopes on therapy, I can’t see how talking to someone is going to make me feel like my old self again. I’ve been through too much, am simply a shadow of what I used to be.

  He walks by my side as we go down to the shop where the truck is parked, making no move to take my hand. Any physical contact can make me feel trapped and trigger a panic attack, and today, he seems to know it would be even the touch of his fingers around mine.

  “I know I suggested this, Flash. But if you’re not feelin’ up to it…?”

  I could easily take the way out he’s offered. But what if I do? Nothing else has helped. While I don’t set much hope on getting an instant result, there’s enough of me left to want to try anything which might help me through. “Can’t deny that sounds tempting, Peg. But I think you’re right. This is something I need to do.” I risk a glance at him, looking into his kind but hurting eyes. “I don’t know what you’ll be bringing back.”

  Instead of putting Pete’s unwelcome invasion of my body to the back of my mind, today I’m going to be forced to bring it to the forefront. I’m expecting it to be devastating.

  Peg starts the engine, the prospect slides open the gates, and now we’re driving down the track, past the desolate burned-out scenery. My surroundings seem apt for my state of mind. Like the ground that had everything growing stolen by the fire, Pete’s taken away everything.

  We’re a few minutes early, and I fidget as I wait, unable to concentrate on a magazine.

  Peg tries to help. “They’ll soon find out about the judge, bring Pete back in. And Cherry will know it’s safe to change her story.”

  I’m tapping my fingertips together. “Wish I was as certain of that.”

  “Mercer Senior’s alibi won’t hold up any longer. It will be discredited along with him.”

  That’s all I can hope for. Even today with Peg driving I kept looking around, worrying that Pete was out there somewhere. I hate being scared all the time. My eyes flit to the clock on the wall.

  The second hand’s just ticked its way past the hour when an office door opens, and a pleasant-looking woman looks out into the room. “Darcy Cavanaugh?”

  I get to my feet, and she stands back to allow me to precede her into the room.

  I’d expected a doctor’s office, but it’s nothing like what I thought it would be. Two comfortable chairs are casually placed around a small table. As she waves at one, inviting me to sit down, my han
d goes to my stomach muscles protectively.

  Concerned eyes watch me. “You’re still sore?”

  Shaking my head, I explain, “I think it’s become habit now. No, I’m more or less healed.”

  Sitting herself opposite, she leans back to her desk and picks up a tablet. For a second, she reads through some notes.

  “Tell me a bit about yourself, Darcy.”

  “I’m a firefighter.” I’m not sure what she wants.

  “I’m aware of that. But tell me more about you, not your job. Let’s go back a bit. How would you describe yourself as a little girl growing up?”

  I feel a reprieve that she’s not starting by wanting me to describe what Pete did to me, but am confused. Why does she want to know that? I try to answer her question as honestly as I can.

  “Hmm. So, I’d be right in thinking your parents were quite controlling? And you spent a lot of time rebelling?” she surmises after I’ve been talking for a few minutes.

  “Yeah. They tried to push me into the science subjects, but I was more into sports.”

  “Did they put much pressure on you to do what they wanted?”

  “Not so much pressure, just disappointment, you know?” I smile. “In the end, we both decided it was best for me to go my own way. They couldn’t understand me. Instead of fighting, we agreed to disagree. It was a way of avoiding confrontation.”

  The doctor smiles. “Would you describe yourself as knowing your own mind and being determined enough to follow it from an early age?”

  I smirk. “Well, it was difficult for my parents to push me into doing things I didn’t want to do.”

  “And what’s your relationship like with your family now?”

  I purse my lips, thinking how to describe it. “We’re not close. Don’t see each other enough. But we’re still family, you know?”

  “And do they know you were shot?”

  “No. Oh, they’d be there if I needed them, but I don’t.” As I see her eyes narrow, I try to explain. “When I was young they let me go my own way. They didn’t prevent it, but didn’t help either. I got to where I am now on my own. Without their support.”

  “Or their encouragement?”

  I think back. They didn’t actively encourage or discourage me. In the end I shrug, not sure how to answer.

  “Have you ever relied on anyone else, Darcy? Or ever wanted to?”

  Her question brings to mind Peg and the reason I’m pushing him away. “It’s hard for me. I’ve always demanded the freedom to do everything for myself. There’s a man…”

  “A man?” She leans back in her chair, folds her arms, and crosses her legs at the ankles.

  Now I’m not sure why I mentioned him. “Oh, that’s Peg. The man waiting outside. He wants a relationship with me, but he’s a controlling man. Would want to be in charge of every situation.”

  “And he makes the wrong choices?” she taunts.

  “No, no he doesn’t. He’s usually right.”

  “But doesn’t see things the same way as you?”

  Again, I refute that. “We think surprisingly alike.”

  “But sometimes you clash? Your views, opinions?”

  Biting my lip, I admit, “We’ve never clashed.” I remember we even share the same taste in music.

  Unfolding her arms, she sits forward again. “Have you ever wanted a family of your own?”

  “What woman doesn’t?”

  “And the man you would want is someone weaker than you, someone who leaves all the decisions to you…”

  “Certainly not.” I could never see myself with a wimp.

  A smile appears as though she’s scored a point. “You don’t want to be controlled or do the controlling. You want a partner. Seems what you’ve got to work out is whether you’ve already found it.” She hardly pauses before she changes track. “So, I know a bit more about you now, about what makes you tick. Now, this is getting to what I expect you think is the hard part. What you’re going to do, Darcy, is to tell me in exact detail what happened to you.”

  “I can’t.”

  She waves her hand around the office, drawing my attention to how light it is, the soothing scenic pictures on the wall. “This is a safe place, Darcy. What’s going to happen in these sessions is that, yes, you’ll be facing the trauma you went through, but by getting it out in this environment it can help you shape different memories about that night. I know you want to lock it away and not think about it, but you’re just bottling it up. Take a breath, Darcy. And take me through that night step by step.”

  I’ve let down my guard, got side-tracked, and now she brings it up. The details I don’t want to think about, let alone put it into words. As she instructed, I inhale deeply and start. “I thought Truck, another firefighter, was driving behind me. When he flashed his lights, I pulled over. I couldn’t see who it was, got out of my car, and was knocked out. When I came to I was tied up. I ran. He caught me. He incapacitated me. He raped me then shot me again. I reported him, but he had a false alibi and got away with it.”

  There. I’ve got it out. I wait to see the shock and sympathy on her face.

  But her expression doesn’t change, though she’s watching me carefully. “That’s the abridged version. Now let’s fill in the blanks. Take it from the beginning. What did you do? Remember, this is a safe place, Darcy.” Her voice is calm, matter of fact.

  My breath hitches, her question taking me back to the panic I’d felt. Feeling my hands tied behind me, my desperate run through the construction site as I tried to find somewhere to hide. Knowing what slim chance I had of escape, Pete behind, stalking me. I was helpless. I try to find the words to relive it all over again. She probes each time, bringing raw emotion to the fore as I recognise I was seeking to take back control of the situation—power that Pete had stolen.

  “You realise you haven’t dealt with any of this? Have you mentioned how you’re feeling to anyone before?”

  I shake my head.

  “Because you don’t want to admit to any weakness.”

  “I’m a woman.” I’m sobbing now. “I work in a man’s world.”

  “Ah.” She picks up her tablet and jots something on it. Then her sharp eyes look up. “Tell me, Darcy. Your Peg, I couldn’t help but notice how big he is. Would you describe him as a strong man?”

  There wouldn’t be many people who’d be foolish enough to take him on. “Yes. Nothing would bother him.”

  “Hmm.” She purses her lips. “Picture Peg. Now hold an image in your head of him unarmed, his hands fastened behind him, and a man was chasing him with a gun? Do you think he’d be bothered then? What could he have done that you didn’t do?”

  I stare at her, my eyes open wide. In the end I shake my head as I’ve no answer. Could Peg have escaped? Could he have fought back?

  “Seems to me no woman or man could have done more than you did.”

  “But I was raped.”

  She raises her shoulders to her ears. “Men can be raped too. And they’re not immune to bullets. Sex doesn’t come into it.”

  “I’m a firefighter. I should have been stronger.” I break off and continue in a whisper. “I don’t even know if I can go back to my job.”

  “Will you be physically fit enough?”

  I nod.

  “The men you work with, they threaten you? Make you worry they’d overpower…”

  “God no. Of course they wouldn’t. But they know what’s happened to me…”

  “And why would they think any the worse of you for it? We’ve just established even that tall, strong man waiting for you outside couldn’t have done different.”

  I don’t have an answer. She gives me space to think, then asks, “Are you up for carrying on?”

  I know exactly where she’s going to go next. But there’s no point putting it off. The inclination of my head gives her the answer.

  “The man who attacked and then raped you. I believe you knew him. Had you had sexual relations with him before?”
>
  Looking down at my hands, I see they’re shaking. “No.” I barely recognise my own voice. “I know now he wanted to start a relationship with me, and not for the usual reasons. I was someone to get close to, someone he wanted to control. He wanted to use me to get to my parents.”

  “And that was never going to work, was it?”

  “No.” She’s ignoring my reactions, not offering false sympathy. For some reason that’s helping. “That’s how I met Peg. That night Pete had slapped me, and I ran. I don’t know why, it didn’t occur to me to stay and fight.”

  “Flight or fight. It’s an instantaneous decision.”

  “I’d been fooled into letting him stay in my house.”

  “Interesting use of words. Fooled? Or fed a line many people would have fallen for?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “Why do you think it would matter?”

  She keeps challenging me. Like a school kid, I don’t want to fail to come up with an answer. Racking my brains, I say, “Because it would affect the amount of guilt I take on myself?”

  She smiles as if I’ve performed a clever trick. “Moving on. Let’s go back to the construction site and what happened that night. Tell me more about that.”

  “He caught me and shot me in the foot to stop me escaping again. It was at that point he told me what he intended to do.” I shudder as I remember.

  “Did he want to impress you with his physical prowess and ask you to give him another chance?”

  My shudder continues, my body now shaking. “Partly, I think, yes. But he was high on something, and the situation excited him. First he said it was to show me what I’d been missing, but all along I don’t think he intended for me to live. I was lucky to be found still alive.”

  She looks at the clock. “We’re going to have to leave it here for today, but I’d like to see you again on Friday.” As she stands, she tilts her head on one side. “Think about what we’ve spoken about. Think what you could have done differently. Don’t blame yourself for not getting away, put any guilt in the right place. You didn’t let something happen to you, Darcy, none of this was your fault. And it didn’t happen because you sat back and let it because you were weak. You fought.”