Victim Rights

by Norah McClintock

  He drew in a deep breath.

  “It’s Beth,” he said. Kevin knew Beth. She came into the store often enough. Even better, she said hi to Kevin whenever he was around, and she did it with a straight face. She even carried on conversations with him from time to time, which seemed to leave Kevin dazed.

  “What about her?” Kevin said.

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know.” And it was eating him up. “I’m sorry about that guy. But he’s not going to press charges, and it won’t happen again.”

  “It better not.” Stern but a little more subdued.

  “I have to go, Kevin.”

  Kevin had no trouble thinking things through. He had no trouble considering consequences.

  “Just this one time,” he said.

  Dooley threw him a curve. He said, “Thanks.”

  It took Dooley half an hour to get to the building where Beth and her mother lived. He stood in front of the board outside the security door. She hadn’t returned a single one of his dozens of phone calls. What were the chances that she’d buzz him up if he rang her apartment? He waited for a few moments, making like he was studying the names on the board. No one appeared either in the lobby or in the foyer where he was. No one opened the door either way, giving him the chance to slip through.

  He started pressing top-floor buzzers first.

  “Yes?” crackled a voice.

  “Pizza,” he said into the intercom.

  “I didn’t order pizza.” Brusque, angry.

  “Sorry. Wrong apartment.” By then he was talking to dead air.

  He pressed the next button, then the next, and the next. He was down three floors before someone said, “Well, it’s about time,” and buzzed him through.

  He rode the elevator up to seven where Beth lived, stood to one side of the door, out of sight, he hoped, of the peephole, knocked lightly, and prayed that her mother wasn’t home.

  Beth’s mother answered the door. Thanks a lot, Big Guy.

  She looked tired, and for once she didn’t regard him with undisguised disapproval.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” Dooley said. “But is Beth here?”

  Beth’s mother looked him over, as if she would never understand what her daughter saw in him.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you.” Her voice was as weary as her face. She started to swing the door shut.

  Dooley blocked it with his hand.

  Beth’s mother met his eyes, but she didn’t show the fury that Dooley expected.

  “She isn’t seeing anyone,” she said. “She isn’t talking to anyone. I’m sorry.”

  Sorry? Beth’s mother was sorry? What did that mean? Panic rose to choke him.

  “Beth!” he shouted. “Beth, it’s me!”

  Beth’s mother stood in the doorway, blocking his way. But she made no attempt to silence him, and that rattled Dooley. What was going on? Why wasn’t Beth answering? Why wasn’t her mother threatening to call the cops on him?

  “Beth!”

  A door opened down the hall, and a woman peeked out. Still Beth’s mother did nothing to quiet him. Dooley looked at her.

  “Nevin came by the store,” he said. “He said—” He stopped. He just couldn’t make himself say it.

  “She doesn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone,” Beth’s mother said. “But I’ll tell her you were here.”

  Beth’s mother, who always acted like she wished she could make him vanish with a snap of her fingers, was going to tell Beth that he had dropped by? That shook Dooley even more. It was as if he’d stepped into a parallel universe where everything was the opposite of what he was used to: his girlfriend wouldn’t talk to him and his girlfriend’s mother was actually being nice—well, civil—to him. She swung the door shut and Dooley heard two separate locks click into place.

  TWO

  Sitting in class the next day was like being staked out naked while fire ants overran his body. Every nerve ending screamed, but there was nothing he could do except sit there and take it. Copy down the bullshit on the blackboard. Listen to the crap that was coming out of his teachers’ mouths. Make a note of his homework assignments. Take it and take it and take it until, mother of mercy, the final bell rang. He sprinted down the school steps and made it to the bus just as it was pulling away. He hammered on the door. For once the driver didn’t ignore him. He stepped on the brake and let Dooley in. Dooley thanked him as he flashed his transit pass and his student card.

  Beth’s school had let out before he got there, still breathless from his dash to the bus stop and then from jogging up the tree-lined street to the sprawling building where Beth spent her weekdays. It was a warm afternoon and there were girls everywhere—on the steps and the front walk of the school in knots and bunches, talking about whatever it was girls found to talk about; out on the sidewalk, smoking; farther away, in the parking lot or headed that way, the younger ones climbing into suvs driven by small women who weren’t the same color as the girls, the older ones dangling the keys to their own cars. Dooley couldn’t believe how many of them were waving lit cigarettes, and these were rich kids in a private school, every one of them university bound; you’d think they’d have enough brains not to smoke.

  Dooley scouted them all and then came to a sudden stop.

  He didn’t know any of these girls. He had no idea which ones were friends of Beth’s. He’d never given it any thought. But now that he needed to talk to her best buddies, he realized he had no clue where to start. He’d been going out with Beth for six months. He talked to her practically every day. He saw her at least once a week, sometimes more, depending on his shifts and her homework load and extra-curriculars. Beth was big on extra-curriculars. She was on her school’s debating team, yearbook committee, field hockey team, and volleyball team, and she volunteered twice a month at a soup kitchen along with a bunch of other girls from her school. But Dooley had never met any of them. He didn’t even know their names. Okay, so she didn’t know any of his friends, either, other than Warren, who she’d met a few times. But that was different. Dooley didn’t have any friends.

  He hesitated, unsure of himself. The girls who were hanging out in front of the school were mostly talking among themselves, but a couple of them had noticed him and were staring at him. He was aware of how different he looked from, say, Nevin. He hadn’t arrived by car. His jeans were off-label and worn at the knees. His sneakers were from the mid-price range. His T-shirt was definitely not designer.

  But so what? Jesus, he wasn’t afraid of what a bunch of girls thought of his wardrobe, was he? What was the worst they could do? Tease him to death? Yeah, well, lock them up in a youth detention facility—as if their daddies would ever let that happen—and see how long they lasted. He pulled himself up straight and marched to the nearest and smallest knot of glossy-haired smokers. A couple of them were already regarding him with curiosity, which made it easier—sort of.

  “Hey,” he said.

  One of them, a blonde with, in his opinion, so much makeup on her eyes that she looked like a starving raccoon, smirked at him.

  “Hey,” she said, as if she were trying out the word, as if she’d never actually spoken it before.

  “I—” Jesus, why was he letting himself get rattled by four girls he didn’t even know? “You know Beth—Beth Everley?”

  Another blonde, this one more platinum than the first, not even trying to look natural, said, “You’re that guy, aren’t you?”

  That guy?

  “You’re Dooley,” she said.

  The other three inspected him closely.

  “Are you?” Raccoon Eyes said.

  “Yeah.”

  “I knew it,” Platinum said, grinning as she gave him a slow once-over. “No wonder she kept you such a secret.”

  Kept—past tense. Did that mean anything?

  “He’s cute,” Platinum said to her buddies, “in a kind of classic bad-boy way.”

  Dooley got annoyed when he realized his cheeks were burning. Jesus
. Girls.

  “Was Beth at school today?” he said.

  All four shook their heads.

  “Were the four of you at that Habitat thing with her?”

  “That wasn’t our home form,” Raccoon Eyes said. “But we heard what happened.” She smirked at him again. “Guess you’re pissed, huh? She was making eyes at Parker all week.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t there,” Dooley said, his fists clenching automatically.

  “We weren’t,” said a girl who, so far, hadn’t spoken, a scrawny girl with chestnut hair. “But Annicka was.”

  “Who’s Annicka?”

  Scrawny pointed at a girl with jet black hair who was leaning on a utility pole across the street, smoking. Annicka glanced at Dooley before crushing her cigarette under the heel of a black boot and heading down the street.

  “She was there,” Scrawny said. “She saw everything.”

  Everything? What was everything? What the hell had happened?

  “If you want to talk to someone, talk to Annicka,” Scrawny said.

  Dooley had to run to catch up to her.

  “Annicka,” he called. “Wait.”

  He was pretty sure she’d heard him; she didn’t have earbuds in, nothing like that. But she had nearly a block’s lead on him and the way she was booting it down the street, he was surprised she didn’t break into a run. Dooley did and finally grabbed her by the arm. She wheeled around, her expression pure aggression, a cell phone in her hand.

  “Let go of me or I’ll call the cops.”

  He jerked his hand away and held them both up in a gesture of surrender.

  “I just want to talk to you, that’s all.”

  She had her thumb on the green button on her phone, ready to push. Did she have the cops’ number programmed in?

  “I know who you are,” she said. “I know everything about you.”

  That stopped him in his tracks. Everything?

  “Win is my cousin,” she said.

  Winston Rhodes. Dooley had heard he wasn’t doing too well. He heard that he’d had to relearn how to do things like tie his shoelaces and brush his teeth.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to him,” Dooley said, even though he wasn’t, not one little bit.

  “I bet,” Annicka said.

  “Look, you know Beth Everley, right?”

  Annicka’s thumb hadn’t moved from the green button on her phone.

  “You were on that trip with her,” Dooley said.

  “So? What’s it to you?”

  She had to be kidding.

  “You just said you know who I am. If you do, then you know why I’m asking.”

  Her thumb stayed on the green button for another few seconds. Then she flipped her phone shut.

  “You’re checking on Beth, right? You want to know if she spun you one. Right?” She was surly now, snotty. He was starting not to take it personally that Beth hadn’t introduced him to any of her friends. What a bunch!

  “They said you saw everything. What did they mean?”

  “What did they mean? Are you for real?” A grin spread like a stain across her face. “You haven’t talked to her, have you? But you heard something. You definitely heard something.”

  Her obvious enjoyment irritated Dooley.

  “Look, I just want to know what happened.”

  “Okay, sure.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes from a tiny purse and lit up. “She was with Parker. That’s what happened.”

  That name again, the same one Nevin had mentioned.

  “What do you mean, with him?” he asked.

  “They were fooling around all week—you know, flirting with each other. Then, on the last night, he threw this big party at his country place. I saw them go upstairs together. They were holding hands.”

  Dooley felt sick inside. He wished he’d never asked.

  “But you know Parker.” Annicka looked at him. “No, I guess you don’t.” She took a long drag on her cigarette. “Parker’s one of those guys who likes to spread it around. And why shouldn’t he? He can get any girl he wants. I was sitting across from Beth on the bus on the way home the day after the party. She was staring at Parker the whole time. He was sitting with another girl. Beth looked like she wanted to kill him. I guess she didn’t appreciate being dumped so soon.”

  Dooley felt like he’d been gut-punched by some iron-fisted goon who knew what he was doing.

  “This guy Parker, where does he go to school?”

  “Why? You want to beat the crap out of him?” She looked and sounded excited by the idea. “You want to do to him what you did to Win?”

  Dooley thought, yeah, he’d like to do exactly that. Also, he wanted to see what Parker had that he didn’t have, what even Nevin didn’t have.

  “Where can I find him?”

  Annicka glanced at her watch and shook her head.

  “He’s probably at the tennis club.”

  The tennis club. Like everyone knew its name—everyone except Dooley.

  “What tennis club?”

  She told him.

  “What does he look like?”

  “He’s tall. About your height. Maybe a touch shorter.” Good. “Blue eyes, blond hair; he’s got bangs that keep falling into his eyes, makes him look all sweet and innocent, you know? And dimples. When he smiles, he’s got killer dimples. You really would think he was an angel.” But the way she said it, Dooley got the impression you’d be a fool to believe it.

  He turned to go.

  “Hey,” Annicka said. “I heard about you, but I know Parker. He’s in good shape. He’s into martial arts—and he’s good. I’m not kidding.”

  Dooley followed Annicka’s directions to another tree-lined street he had never heard of, the trees all in bud, the houses on the street all made out of stone, all enormous, all surrounded by high fences or hedges, all immaculately landscaped. At the end of the street, right where it made a right-angled turn, was a trim, low-slung building. Beyond that, barely visible from the street, fenced in, were tennis courts.

  Dooley walked up to the building and pulled open the door. A man in a blazer and gray slacks looked up at him from behind a counter. Right away his eyes narrowed. He came out from behind the counter.

  “How can I help you?” he said, his tone mellow but his eyes sharp. He glanced to his right. A security guard was standing at the only door that led from the lobby into the depths of the club.

  “I’m looking for someone,” Dooley said. “He’s a member here. Parker Albright.”

  The man clearly recognized the name, but something wasn’t computing in his head. He gave Dooley a once-over.

  “Mr. Albright didn’t mention that he was expecting a guest,” the man said.

  Mr. Albright. What a world.

  “I just want to talk to him for a minute,” Dooley said. “Maybe you could—”

  “This is a private club. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Dooley saw the security guard coming toward him.

  “Okay.” He threw up his hands for the second time in less than an hour. “Okay, I get it.”

  He was conscious of two sets of eyes on him as he left the building and strode off the property to the sidewalk. He turned and kept going, rounding the nearest corner to inspect the grounds. The whole place was fenced in, not just the courts. But the fence around the property wasn’t as high as the ones around the courts. They probably thought it didn’t need to be, tucked away like it was in a posh neighborhood. Dooley kept going until he judged he was out of sight of the club house. He hopped the fence and cut across the lawn to the courts.

  There were a dozen of them, half of them occupied. Dooley scanned the players and zeroed in on Parker right away. He was exactly as Annicka had advertised—tall, blond, athletic-looking. Dooley studied the chain-link fences around the courts. They were too high to climb, and the only entrance into them was through the club house. That meant he would have to talk through the fence. />
  Parker was about to serve, but the guy on the other side of the net must have said something to him, because he lowered his hands, turned, and looked across the lawn at Dooley.

  “Hey,” Parker called. “Hey, you!”

  Dooley glanced around, just to make sure. There was no one else on the lawn. He started toward the fence. As he got closer, he thought he recognized Parker’s playing partner. He was pretty sure he’d seen him at a party, one of the few he’d been to since he started living with his uncle.

  Parker had moved to the fence and was grinning through the chain-link.

  “You’re that guy Beth was seeing, right?” he said, pushing his bangs out of his eyes.

  Was seeing. Past tense again. What had Beth been telling her friends? What had she said to this guy? Dooley looked him over carefully. He supposed he could understand what girls saw in the guy. He was good-looking in a GQ way—well-groomed, obviously loaded, with killer dimples. A real angel, Annicka had said. But there was nothing angelic in his ice-blue eyes.

  “I don’t know what she told you,” Parker said, still smiling, as if he and Dooley were pals, as if they were talking about a ball game they had taken in together, “but it wasn’t like I had to twist her arm. She wanted it. She wanted it so bad she practically begged me.” Saying it like he was proud of himself. “And that was after I made it clear that I wasn’t looking for anything long-term.”

  Dooley was breathing hard. His heart was pounding. He had to focus to keep the red from blinding him. Those girls at Beth’s school had said Beth was making eyes at the guy all week. Annicka had seen her going upstairs with Parker, holding his hand. And now this prick was acting like she was just one more conquest, one more notch on the old headboard.

  “I feel for your pain, brother,” Parker said, Mr. Sympathetic. “I can imagine how you must feel. If I were into something more long-term, Beth would definitely make the list. She’s quite a girl. Tasty, you know what I mean?” He ran his tongue over his lips, and that was it. Dooley lunged forward and managed to catch hold of the collar of Parker’s tennis shirt through the fence. He pulled hard on it, yanking Parker so far forward that he had to turn his face to stop his nose from getting mashed against the chain-link.