“Maxine…I…I have something I need to do…” he began. “But I don’t want to do it alone.”
As she entwined her fingers with his, Maxine gave his hands a quick pump of affirmation. “You know I’ll go with you—whatever it is you need to do, Drew…”
“You’re…you’re certain?” he stammered.
“Anywhere, my love. Anywhere…”
“Get your coat, while I try to catch my attorney before he heads back to Brooklyn,” he said, releasing her quickly before he had the chance to second-guess himself. “You’re right, Maxine, I do need closure, and I’m going to find it tonight.”
“Drew?”
“We’re heading out. There’s a woman I need to see across the river…”
Chapter Twenty
The rain began to pour that afternoon, pounding the pavement in heavy pellets and stinging anyone who was stuck without an umbrella. Flowing from the sky in steady streams and flooding the potholes and gutters, the dirty filthy water cascaded over the city streets and sidewalks, dragging with it a torrent of inconvenience.
As they drove through the slick roads of Queens en route to the only bridge that connected Rikers Island Correctional Facility to the city, Drew barely noticed the downpour. Notoriety flanked the remote holding center, which had been known to be one of the toughest jails in the country. No one was safe—not the prisoners, nor the guards. Brutalities leaked to the press left and right. Injuries were ignored. Blind eyes were turned. Abuse ran rampantly throughout the halls of cages lining each floor.
Most disturbing was that an overwhelming number of Rikers’ inmates hadn’t yet been charged with crimes. Like Louise, they were being held as they awaited trial. The violence that escalated within the system offered a dismal promise for those who actually made it out.
Beyond housing prisoners, the compound was a mini-city within itself. Convenience stores, a bakery, laundromats, tailoring shops—even a power plant—sat on the same island that held some of the most violent criminals in New York City. Maxine couldn’t ignore the eerie notion that she could pick up a gallon of milk and then just visit with an accused killer all in one trip. She’d assumed that those amenities served the staff and visitors, all the while shuddering at the notion that she was about to enter into one of those jails herself.
Love, though, conquered fear, and Drew needed her.
His attorney had directed them to an anonymous side door since the press had camped out at the main entrance to the island. This was a massive case, as the New York media often tried alleged child abusers before they had their days in court, and he wanted to shield Drew from any exposure.
Meanwhile, Drew ignored the attempts of both Maxine and Lou to cover him with a giant umbrella as he climbed out of the car that late afternoon. His thoughts focused solely on the images of that evil woman that rolled through his mind. He could still hear her voice—could still feel her gritty, filthy touch.
In fact, he could distinctly remember when he discovered that those memories involved so much more than just his innate sense of discomfort.
Often throughout his childhood, Drew couldn’t sleep at night. The one coping mechanism he’d developed while under the watch of Louise and Fred was losing himself in the ambient noise of the television. Declan and Maggie did whatever it took to help him, even while they both disliked the idea of their ten-year-old son having access to a variety of shows that were likely inappropriate for his age.
And Drew could still remember that evening with vivid recall. There was some sort of late-night news program discussing what they’d referred to as “sexual abuse of children.” The details were moderate, but Drew understood far more than he even realized.
Until that night, Drew hadn’t grasped the severity of the manipulation he’d suffered at Louise’s hands. In fact, he didn’t know that she’d done anything wrong. Fred was the abuser. Fred hurt him with his hands, his belts—with anything he could reach. Louise comforted him, or so he thought at the tender age of five.
That night, though, he paid attention to the acts that were detailed in that news story. He recognized that the account of the child that unfolded before the cameras nearly mirrored his own, bringing the scope of the lascivious behavior he’d once thought was normal to full circle.
What Louise had done to him had a name, and it was punishable by law. That’s what the reporter said. But young Drew didn’t have the voice to speak up or the courage to strike out against her. Instead, he tossed and turned in his bed that night, clutching the Winnie the Pooh that his mom and dad brought with them to the police station the night they’d finally reunited.
Relegating himself to silence, he refused to tell his parents about his horrific revelation. They had already endured five tumultuous years of dread after he’d been kidnapped. They spent every single day and used every resource available to try to find him. Disclosing any further details would only open their wounds just when they thought they might have a chance to heal. They’d shown him love like none other. They helped him to recover from the five years that Fred and Louise robbed from his young life. Even in therapy, he refused to discuss the sexual abuse for fear that the doctor might tell his parents.
From that moment on, Drew decided it was best to shoulder his pain on his own.
Throughout his formative years, Drew pointedly participated in every activity offered at his preparatory school. There, he discovered his love of drama, and he quickly realized that teenaged girls loved a leading man. Maggie, Declan, and a reluctant Adam attended his every performance, and he’d even been scouted by a few casting agents during his senior year. He was popular with his fellow students, the teachers adored him and he worked diligently to maintain a perfect academic record throughout high school.
An over-achiever, he tried his damnedest to tuck away everything he’d come to realize about his abuse, hiding away the tragedies that no one else needed to know. In time, he’d even convinced himself that his cover-up was a tremendous success. On the surface, not a single person would have guessed that he was that kid who’d been abducted, and into the persona of Drew McKenzie he’d grown.
Drew allowed himself the diversions of daily life to intermittently block the vivid recollections of every second he’d spent in that house. However, his own naiveté brought with it an angst that he couldn’t conquer. In this swarm of conflicting rationale that cluttered his mind, he uncovered any and every opportunity he could find to escape. Within that realm, he found it easiest to become someone else—even if only for two hours on stage every night.
With time, he’d grown into a routine of compartmentalizing his constant battle with good and evil. During the waking hours, he busied himself every minute. Auditions. Singing lessons. Acting coach sessions. Women. Sex. Rehearsals. Networking. Social outings.
Those cloaks he wore suited Drew well, enabling him to hide behind the pretense of a perfect world. He had everything. He was tall, handsome and talented. Exorbitantly wealthy. Happy. Smiling. Laughing, even. Occasionally, he bought into his own hype and believed that nothing could stop him—not even those memories that continued to follow his every move.
Meeting Maxine altered his entire game.
One chance evening transformed Drew’s world. Innocence coupled with her genuine concern for his life beyond the boards and the society pages, Maxine proved to Drew that his worth meant so much more than his public persona. Her tender ways manipulated his heart in an honest and unpretentious manner.
Drew no longer wanted to hide behind that façade of stone with his chiseled smile and lifestyle carved from the pages of Town & Country. With Maxine, he was just Drew—scars and flaws and kinks and all. Much to his shock, that was the man she fell in love with, and he found that he no longer needed to pretend.
As his past returned to haunt them both, he’d suddenly discovered that his weaknesses had slowly faded with Maxine’s unshakable faith in the man behind those masks. At last, she’d convinced him of his own worth, and he wasn’
t about to allow himself to fall because of the acts of one terribly sick woman.
Now he could finally slay the beasts that had invaded his life for far too long.
“Drew, I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud of anyone in my entire life,” Maxine said as her hands reached out for his.
One single lamp post illuminated their spot on that otherwise darkened corner. They stood beneath the small awning right outside the gargantuan cement building.
“I’m here for you right here—right now—and I’ll be here afterward. For the long haul,” she assured him. “If you believe in nothing else, Drew, please…believe in me.”
“You, little one…” His breath caught as his fingers wiped away the raindrops that had beaded upon her forehead. “You are the reason I’m here right now. You’ve filled me with nothing but hope. And I can’t satisfy those dreams we both share—together—until I get through this night. But it must be done. For my sake—and for you.”
“No, Drew,” Maxine insisted. “For you…only for you…”
As he shook his head, a sad smile claimed his lips. “For both of us, Maxine,” he countered. “For us…because I love you.”
Once inside the door, Maxine took a look around. Behind the bullet-proof glass partition at the counter was a wide open space with cement walls painted in a pale shade of green and messy desks shoved against each other all around. Sean Fitzpatrick, the McKenzie family’s personal attorney, sat in one of the six plastic seats that lined the wall of the waiting area, and he stood up as soon as Drew walked through the door.
Fitzpatrick was a large man, tall and thin just like Drew, with a bald head that glistened under the fluorescent lights. For the most part, he’d handled the McKenzie family’s personal dealings—real estate, financial investments, and other transactions that required legal approval—since Declan and Maggie first got married. He was now semi-retired, but all of the McKenzies continued to rely upon him. In fact, he’d negotiated Drew’s contracts for all of his shows. Over the years, he had become a family friend who looked out for all of their best interests.
When Drew phoned him that morning, Sean couldn’t deny him a meeting. He was just as quick to turn around in his car and head to Queens just after he’d just left the penthouse when Drew asked him to meet him at the prison.
“Hey, Mack,” he called Drew’s attention, scratching his chin. Regretfully, Drew didn’t have a legal leg to stand on with the statute of limitations having run out long ago, but he did have a right to see Louise. In fact, Sean had to pull more than a few favors to sneak Drew in past visiting hours.
“Maxine…” Sean said as he extended a hand to her.
“Thank you, Sean,” she said and held his eyes with her own. “We greatly appreciate everything you’ve done today…”
“Listen,” his voice gentled, “I can only get Mack back there to see her. Maxine, I’m sorry if you were thinking of—”
As she brought Drew’s hand to her chin, she looked up at him—so tall and so weary—for confirmation.
“I think he’s going to be just fine, Sean,” Maxine said. “You’ll go with him? As his attorney?”
“No!” Drew shouted suddenly. He hadn’t meant for his voice to carry at such a range, but he panicked. If Maxine couldn’t go with him, he didn’t want anyone else to be privy to his conversation with Louise. “Please…just…I can do this on my own. And I don’t want you to be left alone out here…”
“Alright, buddy, take it easy,” Sean said and squeezed Drew’s shoulder as he nodded toward the cop behind the desk. “I have to go with you back there. And Lou’s on his way as soon as he parks the car. He’ll keep an eye on Maxine.”
“I just…fine!” Drew relented and threw up his hands in resignation. He just wanted that day to end.
“She’s never going to see the light of day again,” Maxine stepped in. Pulling at the cuff of his wool jacket, she raised her head to kiss Drew on the cheek. “I love you, Kind Sir. And I’m not going anywhere…”
Not now…and never…if you let me stay…
Tipping his cap, an officer poked his head around the door that separated visitors from police administration just as a sopping wet Lou made it through the door. “You’re here to see Reynolds, Mr. McKenzie?”
While he endeavored to remain so very brave and stoic, Drew visibly shook at the mere mention of that name and said, “Yes, please. If you would...”
“Lemme make a call back to the holding cells,” the officer said. “Please have a seat. It'll be a few minutes.”
“Little one?” Drew’s soft voice echoed between them.
“Yes?”
“I know this isn’t what you expected or anticipated in a relationship with me,” Drew admitted. “But I just want you to know…you’ve saved me from my own self.”
“Drew…I didn’t do—”
“Yes, you did, Maxine,” Drew said. “In ways that no one else ever could...”
She still felt as if she had more to give—more to prove—to Drew. However, before she could offer any comfort or even begin to define her own love, Drew had a meeting with the Devil herself.
“Mr. McKenzie…” Now, it was the sergeant who approached them slowly from that locked door. “We’re ready for you...”
There was no question in his voice. It was now or never. As desperately as Maxine wanted to remain at Drew’s side, she had to force herself to let him go.
“I love you, and I’m right here…” she said and held his hand against her heart, hoping that he wouldn’t feel the rapid beats beneath his palm.
“I love you, too, little one…”
“You’re sure you want to do this?” she questioned him one final time.
“I don’t want to do this,” he began. “I have to do this…for the sake of my love for you, Maxine. I must go. Lou, keep her safe for me…”
Naturally, Drew had to pass through a metal detector and undergo a thorough security check. In his mind, he could see that woman as clearly as the day he ran away from that house. He remembered the swell of her face, the broken vessels in her eyes and the quiver of her cracked lips as she realized that her world had just crashed to pieces. The echo of her weak, trembling voice, calling out his name as he darted through that front door, stung his ears.
A rush of dizziness suddenly overwhelmed him, and he stumbled in his stance, but Sean was quick to catch him and help him to stand upright. He felt warm—flushed—and the bitter taste of bile began to build in his throat.
Never in a million years did Drew ever think he’d see her again, and he had little time to prepare for this moment emotionally. There was so much he wanted to say to her. Unscripted and unrehearsed, he panicked. He had only mere minutes to convey his anger and his heartbreak, but he wanted to assure her that he would indeed be fine.
An armed guard was waiting to escort both Drew and Sean back to prisoner visitation. Mournfully, they followed along down the frigid hallways, painted in such a bland shade of gray—from the floors to the ceilings, where those always too bright fluorescent lights hung overhead, illuminating every last ugly corner of this miserable place.
Stopping at the door to unlock it, the guard turned to Drew, his eyes so very fixed yet impersonal. “We'll bring her out momentarily.” Gesturing into the room, he pointed toward the row of phone booths, separated from the other side by bullet-proof glass. They were alone. “If you'd like to take the seat at the far corner...”
Shoulders back and head held so proudly high, Drew moved toward that small cubicle, shivered for a moment, then took his seat on the hard chair. On the surface, he exuded confidence, the pillar of courage. Inside, however, he held his own disturbing thoughts to himself.
Now was not the time for tears. Drew already felt as if he were on borrowed time to say everything he needed to that hateful, gruesome beast. Never in his conscious mind did he think that she would do it again. He knew that this pattern of behavior often repeated itself with child abusers, but denial was often f
ar easier than facing reality.
Head locked forward, he stared through the bullet-proof glass and reminded himself that Maxine was near. He loved her so damn much, but he couldn’t love her completely until he closed this chapter of his life for good. Ignoring his past wasn’t fair to Maxine. While she’d tried so hard to eliminate her own problems in life, he couldn’t continue on sheltering the harshness of the evil he suffered. The truth had set them both free—free to feel and free to love each other as openly as their hearts guided them.
Perhaps no real resolution would emerge that evening, but Drew would at least gain the satisfaction that he’d stood up for himself—he found that voice that little Freddie didn’t have.
First, he heard the key as it clicked and turned in the lock on the heavy steel door, but he didn’t turn his head to see. He could hear the footsteps walking toward him, getting closer as his heart raced faster. Squinting his eyes closed, he panicked and nearly turned around, terrified to face this despicable excuse for a woman again.
When Louise Reynolds appeared in the window frame of the partition—dressed in orange, prison-issued garb with her hands cuffed in front of her—she offered a weak and hesitant smile.
Conflicted by her stance, Drew scooted back in his chair and shook his head as he tried to make sense of the moment.
Countless surgeries still hadn’t erased the truth behind her injuries. That thick, and always tangled mane of black hair had faded to gray. Her brown eyes, no longer swollen half-shut by the brutalities of Fred Drum, bore some kind of sadness that Drew couldn’t possibly discern. Wrinkles cracked her skin, giving her the appearance of a frail, elderly woman, but she was merely hiding behind that façade. The left side of her face hung lower than the right. He’d even noticed that her entire body seemed slightly off-kilter, ready to tip at any second.
WRAPPED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Two Page 37
