by J. H. Croix
“It’s what happened and what I told the police,” I replied, wondering why she was repeating the obvious.
She closed the folder again. “Repetition is critical. I don’t doubt you for a second, but you need to get used to being asked the same questions again and again. I’m hoping we don’t even go to trial, but if we do, trust me, don’t get annoyed with being asked to repeat what happened a few hundred times.”
I bit back a sigh and ran a hand through my hair. I might not regret punching Joe. In fact, learning he was responsible to making Harper’s name public before only made me want to do it again, but it didn’t mean I wanted to deal with this circus. “Right then. Will do.”
“How likely you think it is he’ll go to trial?” Coach asked.
Zoe looked to him and shrugged. “Not very likely if the press keeps hammering the angle they already have. You look like the hero against a rapist who managed to barely serve any time.”
“But how does that help with the fact I hit him?” I asked.
“The longer this stays in the news, the more Mr. Schmidt has to be back in the public eye. I doubt he realizes it because guys like him usually don’t, but he got lucky before. I reviewed his court records. My guess is if Ms. Jacobs had wanted to keep dealing with a dragged out court case, he would’ve been convicted for the original charges, and she’d have been dragged through hell to make it happen. Rape cases are ugly for the victims. They have to testify about something terrible, reliving it over and over, and deal with cross-examination while they’re at it. It’s extremely unpleasant and the reason something like only three-percent of rape cases ever go to trial. I wasn’t there at the time, but I imagine the prosecutor offered a plea deal because Mr. Schmidt had a very aggressive defense attorney who was prepared to make it as ugly as possible for Ms. Jacobs. He got off easy. Now the whole sordid story is back in the news and he looks like the asshole he is. Not good for his professional reputation at all. He works in finance. I would bet his job might be at risk now because they won’t want any association with a former rapist who just called his victim an old friend. As far as I’m concerned, you let your PR team blow this up. Mr. Schmidt might end up wishing he’d never pressed charges against you. Does that mean it will completely disappear? No. Too many witnesses, but we can agree to a deal that probably means community service for you,” Zoe said with a firm nod.
Coach said something in reply, and they continued talking while my thoughts spun off wondering just how bloody awful the lead up to the plea deal must have been for Harper after Joe was charged. I didn’t like thinking about it. At all. In fact, thinking about it only made me angry again. Bloody hell. I’d been angry more ever since Olivia dropped this little bomb on me than I had since I was a lad. I’d thought my problems with my temper long gone.
Coach cleared his throat, and I looked back over at him. He leaned back in his chair and angled his head to the side. “You’re pissed again,” he said calmly.
I bit back a sigh and shrugged. “I don’t like hearing about what Harper went through. I especially don’t like thinking about how easy Joe got off. It’s a load of bollocks is what it is.”
Zoe looked at me calmly and shrugged. “It certainly is, but don’t throw your fists around anymore, okay? We can handle this situation without too much trouble. If it happens again, you won’t look as sympathetic as you do now.”
Bloody hell. She was practical. I swallowed the next curse I wanted to spit out and closed my eyes while I took a deep breath instead. Opening them, I glanced between her and Coach. “No worries about me.”
Zoe nodded and stood, snagging the file folder and tucking it under her elbow again. “Well, I’ll be in touch after I speak with the prosecutor tomorrow. In the meantime, make your life as boring as possible,” she said with such a slight smile, it was barely noticeable.
She strode out of Coach’s office, her footsteps echoing on the tiled floor as she walked down the hallway. Coach stood and closed his office door, returning to lean his hips against the side of his desk. He eyed me for several beats. “It’s okay to be angry about something, you know.”
I stared back at him, wrestling with my own thoughts. Intellectually, I knew there was good reason to be angry with Joe. Yet, years of watching my father rule with anger had set me up to curb mine. I finally shrugged, uncertain where Coach meant to go with his comment.
“I’m only saying that because I haven’t seen you anything other than calm in the year plus you’ve been playing with the team. That’s a damn good thing. Your steadiness is a huge part of what keeps the team focused in tough games. I can’t say why, but you seem rattled by getting angry over this situation with Harper. You should be pissed. Hell, I’m pissed. Thing is, when people get angry and think they shouldn’t be angry, that’s when they do dumb things like punch people on the street because they’ve been too busy stuffing their anger.”
At that, he pushed off the side of his desk. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything back from Zoe. You do the same if you hear from her. Okay?”
“Of course. See you tomorrow at practice.”
As I made me way out of the stadium, I considered Coach’s comment. I hadn’t thought much about whether I’d been stuffing any of my anger when it came to what happened to Harper. I didn’t like being angry and especially didn’t like feeling so helpless. As Coach so plainly said, I couldn’t change the past.
Chapter Fourteen
Harper
“Bye Stanley,” I said, giving his sleek head a pet. “Be back later.”
He nudged my leg and turned to amble over to his favorite napping spot in the corner where a splash of sun fell through the windows. I’d awoken to an overcast morning and gone for a run with Alex in the light drizzle. When it came to Alex, my thoughts were a jumble. I was starting to feel half-crazy because I wanted to see him all the time, but that didn’t fit with what I’d thought would happen with him. Not that I’d ever known what it would be like to finally break through the wall I’d built around myself and actually desire someone again. I wasn’t prepared for thinking about Alex nearly all the time and aching to see him again. I looked forward to our morning runs together because I knew I was guaranteed a solid hour in his presence. I wanted a hell of a lot more than that, but I was in the midst of my own internal battle over what to do about that.
My hard won peace of mind was coming to seem more superficial than I’d hoped. It relied on me avoiding emotionally charged situations, something I hadn’t discovered I’d been avoiding until Alex came along. Much as a part of me was near desperate to wrap myself in everything that was Alex, allowing that to happen meant letting go in a way I hadn’t in years. Honestly, in a way I’d never let go emotionally. The scorching intimacy I experienced with Alex was like nothing I’d ever experienced.
I gave my head a shake and slipped my jacket on, glancing over to see Stanley already sound asleep in his little patch of sun. Sometime between getting home from our run and my shower, the light drizzle had stopped and the sun was playing peek-a-boo through the clouds. I locked the door behind me and headed out to work.
I’d fallen in love with my new apartment when I saw it for several reasons. The windows offered a view of Puget Sound in the distance, it was on the same side of town as Daisy and Olivia, and it was closer to my job. I’d loved the fact it was close to a park as well because that meant a good place for walks with Stanley. I hadn’t considered running into Joe because I couldn’t have known he lived nearby. I still didn’t know anything other than that he went running in the park and I’d seen him in his car. Even the knowledge of his presence couldn’t puncture the warmth I felt now that Alex was in my life.
Well, I suppose he’d been in my life before. Ever since Olivia had moved in with Liam, Alex had been on the periphery of my life. I’d see him whenever Olivia and Liam had gatherings with friends. It hadn’t escaped my notice Alex was all kinds of sexy bundled up in an amazing body, but he’d kept his distance enough that I hadn�
��t seen beyond the surface. Truth be told, I hadn’t paid much attention to any man. It was strange to consider it, but the collision of encountering Alex in the park and seeing Joe at the same time had snapped me out of a numb place inside.
Just thinking about Alex now sent a flash of heat rolling through me. I turned on the radio, only to hear Alex’s name. Even though I knew it might be something I didn’t want to hear, I turned up the volume.
…. Alex Gordon’s recent charges are a shock in Seattle. Gordon is known for never losing his cool and has never even been called for a foul during his pro soccer career. Until this, he was clean as a whistle and considered Britain’s gentleman footballer. He’s facing assault charges against Joe Schmidt, the former track star previously charged with rape against a female runner who was ranked nationally during her college career. There was public outcry over the paltry sentence Mr. Schmidt agreed to in a plea deal, serving only a few months of time. Reports indicate Gordon is involved with Mr. Schmidt’s victim. Gordon looks like the hero here. Fans are saying Gordon did it for love.
The radio announcer continued and then shifted into a discussion on a local sports news station. I switched the radio off, my stomach churning. I couldn’t say I hadn’t been prepared. Alex himself had tried to tell me he was worried about this very thing. I guess I’d just shoved it away, thinking it couldn’t be that interesting to anyone. But then, I’d done the same thing back when Joe raped me. I’d been completely unprepared for the media attention and devastated when Joe announced my name during a live interview. The press had kept my name out of it until then. After that, every publication with any decency had actually called to ask if I preferred they continued to withhold my name, but I’d told them it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t. Joe had already done his damage, and shoving my name back into anonymity had been impossible at that point. I only prayed this would blow over quickly.
I zipped into my parking spot at my office and jogged inside. I liked my job, I really did. I kind of fell into it, but physical therapy turned out to be a good fit for me. My senior year in college had been a blur. I’d barely been able to focus and my grades had slipped. I had to spend an extra year in classes recouping from that mess. My track coach had been kind enough to set me up with a job providing support to the physical therapy team for various collegiate programs. I’d enjoyed it because the job itself offered opportunities for me to stay fit, and I enjoyed helping others. Sad to say, but part of the appeal at the time had been free access to the on-site gyms. I’d been deep in the echoes of fear from Joe’s attack and had been too scared to run outside at the time. Yet, I’d craved the physical burn of working out and the escape it offered me.
I’d gradually worked up to walks outside with Stanley, but had only started running outside again with Alex. Another gift he’d given me—of such import it was hard to convey. I waved at the receptionist and headed down the hall to my office. I still worked at the university occasionally, but my official job was with a clinic that provided physical therapy and orthopedic consults all over Seattle. Olivia and I sometimes referred to each other with her being an orthopedic surgeon. I liked the freedom of my position and the ability to see a wide range of patients.
I stepped into my office to find Daisy waiting in one of the chairs by my desk. “Hey there, what are you doing here?” I asked, puzzled at her appearance.
Daisy twirled the ends of her blonde ponytail in her fingers and shrugged. “Just thought I’d say hi.”
While it wasn’t completely unusual for Daisy to drop in, she was too nonchalant for that. I hung my jacket and leaned my hips on the desk. “You’re not here just to say hi. You’re checking on me, aren’t you?”
Daisy sighed and wrinkled her nose. “So how are you?”
I pondered her question seriously. I wasn’t great. It wasn’t good to know Alex was in the news and the biggest ghost of my past was in the public eye again because of what had happened. Yet, I’d come a long way. I was unsettled and anxious, but I felt okay. I didn’t have that old panicky feeling where I felt strewn into broken pieces inside, always trying to put myself back together and never quite able to pull it off. Oddly, I wanted to see Alex. I wasn’t quite ready to examine what that might mean, but somehow the thought of seeing him made me feel better. He was someone to hold onto, and I didn’t doubt for a second he’d be there if I asked.
I met Daisy’s concerned gaze. “I’m really okay. Were you driving in and heard the same thing I did?”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yes. It got me worried. But you look… Well, you look okay. Want to grab some lunch today?”
“Sure. How about…” I leaned back and glanced at my schedule. The receptionist printed it for me everyday and left it on my desk even though I had it in my phone calendar. “12:30?”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you here.” Daisy stood and gave me a swift hug before leaving with a wave.
I jumped into work, relieved I had a busy schedule this morning. If anything could take my mind off of the treadmill of worry and anxiety, staying busy could. I worked with an elderly woman who was a few months into her recovery from a broken hip and moved onto a session with a professional bodybuilder who’d torn his rotator cuff. The contrast between the two was so stark as to be amusing. Janet, the elderly woman who’d fallen, had me cheering as she showed off her walking skills. I had just returned to my office from the gym to check on a few things when my desk phone rang. I answered without bothering to check to see who was calling.
“Ms. Jacobs, Brad Williams from the Seattle Observer here. I’m calling with regard to the incident with Alex Gordon and to discuss whether you have any comment on the matter.”
I stared at the phone. As innocuous as it looked, at the moment, I wanted to throw the phone across the room. On the heels of my anger came dread. I silently cursed myself. I should’ve known the media would call. I should’ve been prepared for this. I just hadn’t wanted to think about it. At all. My life had rolled past this, and I didn’t want to wade back into the quagmire.
“Ms. Jacobs?”
I opened my mouth to speak, out of reflex and the habit of manners, before I snapped it shut. I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I started to hang up when I considered that might not help me. If I wanted any say in how this played out, I couldn’t hide from it. To this day, I wondered if I hadn’t been so ready to curl up and hide if I’d have had the endurance to go through a trial. Because that’s what it required—enduring the indignity of replaying the worst moments of my life and the shame in which they were cloaked. I’d been too tired and still reeling from the shock of it all to face it. Maybe I couldn’t go back in time and rectify that, but perhaps I could affect how this played out. I took a deep breath, gathering my courage, and tried to quell the fast pounding of my heart.
“Yes. I’m here,” I finally managed.
The reporter cleared his throat. “Okay, well, I think I’m glad you didn’t hang up on me,” he replied.
His tone was polite and careful, yet there was just enough warmth in it, I sensed I could trust him, at least enough to talk for a few minutes. “I was thinking about it,” I said, the bald truth coming out before I reconsidered my words.
“Can’t say I blame you. Well, now that I have you, do you mind taking a few minutes to answer some questions?”
“How about you ask, and if I feel comfortable answering, I will?”
“Works for me.”
There was another pause. “Would it be more comfortable if I came to meet with you in person?”
I spun in my desk chair to look out the windows. The clinic where I worked was in downtown Seattle with our offices on the third floor of a larger building, offering a view of the Seattle skyline with Puget Sound in the distance. I watched as a red-tailed hawk flew past my window to land on the wide sill jutting out from the windows. A pair of hawks nested there every year, and everyone in the office enjoyed keeping an eye on them. My gut was churning and my heart was pounding in a clang
y, shallow beat—that’s how it felt whenever I was anxious. I didn’t know if I was half crazy to even have this conversation, but I figured in person would be better because I’d have a better sense of the reporter.
“I’d like that.” I glanced up at the clock. I had an hour before Daisy would be here to meet me for lunch and an unexpected opening in my schedule due to a cancellation. “If you can meet me now, I have an hour,” I said quickly before I chickened out.
Brad Williams sat across from me at the small round table in my office roughly ten minutes later. I didn’t know where he’d come from, but he’d made it to the clinic within minutes. He was a whip-thin man with silver hair, sharp blue eyes and glasses. He had a somber, thoughtful air to him. It wouldn’t have surprised me to learn he was a runner. He had the build and energy for it. We’d gotten through the pleasantries, and he presently had a cup of coffee from our waiting area in hand.
He looked over at me and cocked his head to the side. “You might want to know I was one of the lead reporters for the Observer back when Mr. Schmidt was charged with rape and assault. I’m also an alumni from his university and ran for the track team there back in my day.”
“Oh, really? Did I speak with you before?” I asked. My memories of the calls from reporters during those few months after my name had been made public and the case finally dropped off the radar after his plea deal were blurry. I hadn’t met with anyone in person.
Brad held my gaze for a moment before nodding. “We spoke on the phone once. You may not remember, but the Observer chose not to use your name in our reporting even after it had been disclosed publicly.”
The knot of tension in the pit of my stomach coiled a little tighter. “I don’t remember that, but I tried not to read about it,” I said with a shrug.
