by Amber Lin
“You killed her.” The statement left me with the cold realization I had always known, or at least suspected. It was better this way, because she hadn’t left me on purpose. But worse, so much worse. My hate for him, previously shriveled and tucked away, pulsed with new life.
He smiled, a little vacant, a little sad. “I knew you were stronger than her. She couldn’t handle what I did, the way I supported our family. I couldn’t let you go the same way.”
“The devoted father,” I scoffed.
“You can’t question my devotion to you. From the moment she left us, I made everything about you.”
“It was wrong,” I said, knowing he would mock me.
But he didn’t. His forehead creased. He seemed uncertain, as if he had pondered this before. “I kept you from ending up like her. She was so sure of herself. She wanted to leave me, to take you with her. You wouldn’t have had a chance.”
I wanted to laugh, but it caught in my throat. What chance? “Is this how you’ve justified it? The excuses you tell yourself so you can sleep at night? If you were so concerned about my safety, why did you let me prostitute myself? It’s not exactly OSHA certified.”
“I got you off the streets. Off those goddamn online ads where any pervert could call you. Henri knew what would happen to him if you ever got hurt.”
“He hurt me, Daddy. Worse than you.”
“He paid for that,” he said evenly. “He’s probably cold by now.”
I blinked, turning to look at the building we had left. The gunshot. “Did you really kill him?”
“Yes, so you can thank me for saving that cop of yours. He was more trouble than he was worth too, always poking his nose where it didn’t belong. I think he figured it out, but I’m assuming he never told you that.”
My silence answered him. He hadn’t.
“He’s not who I would have chosen for you, but I think he loves you. The way I loved your mother.”
I swallowed—no, not like that. Luke had kept his suspicions from me to spare me pain. My father caused pain and called it love. “I despise you. You can’t understand how much I hate you.”
“I can,” he whispered. “I haven’t been able to live with myself since she died. And then you left. It’s been so hard, but I kept myself from going to you. Doesn’t that count for something? Doesn’t it show I care?”
I squinted, searching, as if I were looking for someone else inside him, someone who understood the wrongness of his actions and how very crazy he had become. I found nothing.
He pulled out a gun. I watched with a kind of disinterest. Would he kill me now? It didn’t quite make sense, didn’t fit with his plans for me to take over, to become stronger, but then, he was crazy. That was the problem I’d always had, a little girl trying to find the care and affections in the actions of a madman.
The metal met the palm of my hand as he pressed it there. He maneuvered it in my hand so that it pointed at his chest.
“It’s time,” he said. “You can do this.”
I recoiled, but he held me to him. “I’m not going to kill you. That’s…that’s suicide.”
“Murder,” he corrected gently. “It needs to happen. Otherwise you’ll never move on. You’ll never find peace.”
Himself. He was talking about himself.
I jerked my hand away, my finger nestled against the trigger. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Do it.”
“I won’t.”
A flash of anger crossed his face, and I waited for him to turn on me. He did, but not the way I was expecting. “I watched sometimes.”
My voice faltered. “What?”
“Half the hotels in Chicago have peepholes between the rooms if you know where to look. If you grease enough palms. Henri would offer them a hotel room free so we would get the right one. You were good at it, Shelly. I was so proud of you.”
I felt sick, like I really might throw up all over the gun, all over him and me and everything. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to rile me up, make me so angry that I pulled the trigger, but I was better than that—oh God, wasn’t I?
“I wanted to leave you alone.”
He was pleading now, for me to forgive him, for me to shoot him—it all swirled together in one sick melee.
“It wasn’t right, the way I couldn’t stop thinking about you. That wasn’t fair to either of us. I tried other women, other girls. Pretty ones with blonde hair. They even slept in your bed, but it wasn’t the same.”
My eyes burned with unshed tears. My finger trembled on the trigger. Almost.
A glint entered his eye. “Your friend’s little girl is cute. Not to my usual tastes, but I can see the appeal. It was my money that paid for her birth, wasn’t it?”
The report of the gun was loud in my ears, but it rang instead with she’s mine, she’s mine too. Had he really said that part, or had my mind filled in the blanks? He lay on the ground, unseeing. He jerked. Was he dead?
I rifled through his pockets. His wallet fell open to a school picture of me. I smiled brightly in the picture, my teeth a little too large for my face. I found his cell phone and dialed 911. A gurgling sound came from his throat. I had become what he wanted me to be—a murderer. I hadn’t wanted to, but now…now I couldn’t find any regret. Couldn’t find any feeling at all. Not even the chill of the wind could touch me. When the operator confirmed that ambulances were on their way, I returned to the building.
Luke met me in the hallway, half dragging himself against the wall. I ran to help him.
“You’re okay,” he slurred. He seemed delirious with the pain and blood loss.
Gently, I laid him on the floor. “I’m okay. Rest now.”
His head was pillowed on my arm, tucked against my breast. My cheek lay against the concrete as I took comfort from him. I needed it, after the confrontation with my father, needed to know I was still alive, and that Luke was too, but just this. Just holding him was enough.
* * * *
The paramedics split us up, bringing us to the hospital in separate ambulances. I let them poke and prod at me. They were determined to do a rape kit on me even though I told them it didn’t matter, it had never been rape. But I could tell by the doctor’s expression that she didn’t believe me, and so I spread my legs obediently and let her touch and didn’t make any jokes about charging her by the swab.
The police questioned me, and I explained that the sex between Luke and me was consensual, since they’d find it in the lab report anyway. The two men exchanged a quick glance but kept their professional cool. They told me he was recovering well—but I knew it couldn’t be too well if he hadn’t come to see me yet.
The minute they were out the door, I wanted to leave in search of him. But the nurse must have filled my IV with something that put me to sleep. And they thought I didn’t understand consent, I thought drowsily.
I drifted in and out of a dreamless sleep. When I woke up, the room was still quiet, but I felt someone there. Allie. She was curled up on the hospital bed at my side.
“Hey,” I said, though it came out more like a croak.
“Hey yourself.”
I read how bad I looked in her eyes. Sad. But not too sad, which meant I’d be fine soon enough. Good, because I never could trust those damn nurses.
“How are you feeling? Hurting? Thirsty?”
“A little of both, but wait, don’t go yet. I just want to lie like this.”
She looked shocked. She knew I didn’t like touching. “Are you sure?”
“I’m working on it.”
She grinned. “I’ll take it.”
Colin came in, holding Bailey in his arms. She squealed at the sight of me, but he held her back.
“No,” I protested. “I want to hold her.”
He eyed the tubes coming off me with clear doubt.
“It’ll be fine,” I assured him.
Bailey nestled between us, showing her frustration at my prolonged absence by smashing her face into mine until n
either of us could breathe. She grabbed fistfuls of my hair and made a nest for herself in the crook of my arm. My lungs burned, my bruises ached, all of it too much and just right. I looked over her auburn curls at Allie, who watched us, her eyes bright. It was in her eyes, the soul-deep relief.
Over.
It was really over. There was no one to find me and force me back into the life. No one to hang over me like a heavy cloud. Even if they put me in jail for my part, I would have felt nothing but gratitude.
That wouldn’t happen, though. The cops and the doctors veiled their pity behind professionalism, but the letter V might as well have been stitched across my hospital gown.
Victim.
And well, maybe so. I needed to take responsibility for every trick I had turned. It was the only way to stay sane. But as much as I would have wished it, I couldn’t deny the truth of my father’s words. He had trained me, and I had performed like an obedient bitch—so was it a hapless struggle or a choice? The way of the world or a sin? I wasn’t sure it mattered anymore. I would never again have that pause outside a hotel room door. I would never again hear those unwelcome footsteps pause outside mine. Over.
Well, shit. “What the hell am I going to do now?”
Allie laughed, a little watery. “You’ll think of something, and I’m sure it will make me want to pull my hair out, but it will be awesome.”
“So basically I’m three years old like Bailey.”
She nudged my foot through the sheet. “You are like my kid. And other times you’re like my mom. That’s what best friends do.”
I lowered my lashes, and she gave me the moment I needed. Looking away, I said, “Speaking of kids, how’s the girl? Did you visit the kennel, take her out for a walk?”
I was referring to the email asking her to keep an eye on Claire. I trusted Philip, but a little oversight never hurt anybody.
Her face screwed up. “Not exactly.”
“Not exactly, you didn’t check on her?”
“We didn’t just take her for a walk. We took her home.” At my alarmed look, she reassured me. “Nothing happened. They were driving each other crazy, and Philip asked Colin to watch her. So she came back to our house. It was completely safe. No one even knew she was there. You know Colin wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”
“I’m surprised he wanted to help Philip. Or that you did.”
“Hmm.” She paused, thoughtful. “I would have said I was doing it for her. But the truth is, I felt bad for him. I think he is really desperate for someone to love him.”
I glanced at Colin, who stood just outside the room, visible through the half-raised blinds. “Yeah, well, he can join the club.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Is that a confession I just heard? Do not give me that professional-working-relationship crap. Something must have happened between you and Luke.”
The corner of my lips tugged up.
“See? I knew it. Details. I need details. Let me just give Bailey to Colin, and then–”
“Wait a minute. If you have Claire, then where is she?”
Allie rolled her eyes. “She won’t come in. I think she’s scared, but of course she won’t tell me. Also, remind me to send Bailey to a convent when she hits puberty. Teenagers are exhausting.”
“Send her in.”
“I’m telling you, she won’t come.”
“Tell her if she doesn’t get her butt in here, I’m going to come out there myself. I have stitches and a hangnail here, so basically I might die. Does she want that on her conscience?”
“Okay.” Allie dropped a kiss on my forehead and dragged a disgruntled Bailey into her arms. “You know, I expected Colin to be annoyed, having a teenaged girl around, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I think he even leaves little stashes of cash for her to find. When she pitches a fit, he just shrugs it off. And then I realized he does the same thing to me.”
I snorted. “Trust me, he does not see the two of you the same way.”
“Oh, I know. I’m just saying, men will surprise you if you give them the chance.”
“Subtle.”
“When someone’s as thickheaded as you…”
“Yes, all right. I’m working on it. See, I’m not denying there’s a possibility for me and Luke. We could be together. Stranger things have happened.” I grinned. “Though I can’t think of any at the moment.”
“Not strange,” Allie said. “You’re not Shelly’s past and Luke’s job. You’re just a man and a woman in love. Love is the great equalizer.”
I was quiet for a moment. “That was deep. Oprah?”
She shrugged. “Saw it stitched on a throw pillow.”
Allie left the room, and a few minutes later, a waif dressed in black lurked outside the door. Finally, Claire slunk inside. She looked nice in jeans and a loose sweater. Her hair had been cut so it didn’t fall into her eyes, though she tried to reproduce the effect by hanging her head. I admitted to myself that Allie had been a better caretaker for her even if I hadn’t wanted to involve her. Claire wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Do I look that bad?”
“No,” she said quickly. “You look great. Really good. I mean, I’m so glad that you look so good and—”
“You mad at me?”
“No, not at all.”
“You’re doing it again.”
She fidgeted with the hem of her sweater sleeve. “I made a little mistake. But the thing is, I couldn’t have known it would lead to all that.”
“Spill.”
She told me that she had kept the gemstones I had given her in a stash with her other things. Except she winced a little when she used the possessive term. Stolen things, she meant.
“I took a pen. I just wanted to, you know, write with it or something. I had no idea it was a special pen or that it cost so much. Who pays a thousand dollars for a pen? So then he comes into my room and is looking all around, and I’m pretending not to know what he’s talking about. And then he finds the whole stash, and he starts going through it and saying everything is his. Which it kind of was. But I told him the rocks were mine and that I was keeping them. Then he says he remembers them being part of some little statue thing in the library, and we had a fight.”
“Lord,” I said.
“Right? Anyway, he takes them, and apparently there are serial numbers on the diamonds. Can you believe it? He says he’ll prove that they were purchased by him through a broker or whatever, and I’m like fine, because I know they’re yours and even if you stole them, you didn’t steal them from him.”
“Appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“So it turns out the diamonds were sold twenty years ago to some guy who Philip knows and hates. So then he thinks I was sent there to spy on him, like the stones were a payoff. He was mad.”
Mad was an understatement. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, but he called Colin to come get me. And he wouldn’t give the stones back to me.”
“Probably for the best. Everyone knows diamonds are blood money anyway.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You mean you’re not going to get them back?”
“We’ll consider it payment for room and board and security. I know you were very concerned about inconveniencing him.”
She looked mutinous, but she’d get over it. Eventually. “The important thing now is to get back your old life. Get back to living.”
Her forehead creased. “I know it was scary, what with the threat of death and all that. But in some ways, it was easier like that. Just in limbo, no one expecting things from me. I’m not sure how to go back.”
“I know, sweetheart.” But we’d both have to figure it out.
Chapter Nineteen
Luke found me in my hospital room and didn’t leave my side. When they discharged me, he took me straight to the cabin in the country. He seemed to know that I could breathe there, heal there. But I was restless too.
Allie had come to see me here. Even Jenny had been to the cabin f
or a short visit, which was awkward. Major had brought her. They had escaped from the men who’d held them, and not knowing where to look for me, had holed up in the woods until the cops arrived. Rico had slunk away that night, not wanting to be questioned by the cops—apparently he hadn’t exactly left the gang.
But there was one unanswered question that refused to let me rest. I asked Luke to drive me back into town. It was time to understand what had happened, time to pick up all the pieces so I could finally let them go.
The car bounced along the potholes in the parking lot, and I winced. When the car rolled to a halt, I sighed in relief.
“I’ll get you,” Luke said, coming around the car.
He opened the door and held out his hand. Gingerly, I stepped from the cab, careful not to jostle my leg. In an annoying twist of fate, the cut caused more complications and more pain than my old gunshot wound had.
“You wait here.” I could see from his face that he was about to refuse. “I have to do this alone. She won’t talk to me otherwise. Claire deserves to know, and so do I.”
“Damn it, Shelly. You can’t trust her.”
“She’s the only one in there. And you’re right out here. I’ll be fine. She was never the type to use force anyway.”
“This is not comforting.”
“Trust me,” I said and won the argument. Trust was a slow climb for us both, but we had our eye on the peak.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be right out here. If anything goes wrong…”
I kissed him. “Love you.”
He still looked startled when I did that, which was probably the best incentive to keep doing it. It touched my heart that he understood what a big step this was for me. It broke my heart that some part of him believed himself unworthy. I wanted to see the surprise fade, turn to acceptance.
“Hurry back,” he said. His voice had taken on that slightly hoarse edge that meant arousal and approval. It wouldn’t be long before he took matters into his own hands, finding us a quiet moment, a private space, an intimate touch.
I climbed the steps, glancing at the darkened window. The THAI MASSAGE sign was off, the waiting room empty and eerily silent.
Jade wore her customary loose-fitting clothes that seemed to hang on her rail-thin frame more than ever. I sat down in the chair while she got me a small glass of flat soda. Rituals were important.
