Since she had come here, she had tried to cope by not telling anyone. If people didn't know, then her attack didn't exist. It wasn't real. It couldn't possibly be real.
But Jesse knew now. She had been forced to tell him and now he couldn't touch her without also touching the rabid creature that followed her everywhere.
The young, frizzy-haired rape counselor who had visited her in the hospital right after the attack had given her a thick packet of information. Booklets and hotline numbers and support group schedules, to try to help her process what had happened.
During those long days in the hospital she had forced herself to at least skim through the information, but she hadn't been able to absorb much from it. No one could possibly understand what she was going through, so what was the point in reading about other people's experiences?
Actually, she found it surprising that she remembered anything from that time.
She had been barely there, aware on one level of all the specialists and nurses and therapists checking this monitor and adjusting that medication, coming and going endlessly.
They existed on the periphery, though.
Mostly, she had been cushioned in some merciful limbo, wrapped in a protective cocoon of lethargy where no one could reach her. Where no one could hurt her.
One of the few things she remembered from that barrage of information was one article where the author, herself a victim, had eloquently discussed the culture of isolating silence surrounding women who had been raped.
No one wants to talk about or to hear about it. The crime itself is often considered so unspeakable, so shameful, that its victims are rendered mute, she remembered reading. Their names are omitted from newspaper articles as if they no longer exist, their faces become a blurred, vacant circle on the television.
The loved ones of rape victims especially don't want to talk about it, uncomfortable with the complex ferocity of their own emotions and ravaged by the victim's.
She had seen that in her family and friends. Her mother's tears. Her father's devastated rage. The shock and pity of her friends—and the guilty relief that it had happened to her instead of to them.
And so she had slipped willingly into that silence everyone seemed to expect of her.
She hadn't minded. Not really. She had wanted it that way. Needed it that way. The last thing she wanted to do was rehash the morning that had changed her life, to relive every detail of the attack whenever she looked into the faces of everyone around her.
But now Jesse knew, and he wouldn't touch her because of it.
Sometimes the injustice of it made her want to scream and weep at the same time. She had done nothing to deserve what had happened to her, yet she was still being punished.
Most of all, she hated that her rape hadn't ended when Tommy DeSilva climbed back through that jagged glass of her classroom window. It was not a static, isolated moment, but sometimes seemed to go on and on and on, sucking any color and joy from her life.
She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted.
She couldn't bear the idea of going back to Jesse's house, to the thick, constant tension between them. She wanted her own space, her soothing, peaceful gardens, the scent of her own pillow.
One more night. She could make it through a few more hours at his house.
And then she would wrap herself once more in her safe, protective, suffocating cloak of silence.
* * *
Jesse looked at the clock on the wall of his office, hanging above a framed print of a moose hip-deep in the Snake River, moss dripping from his antlers.
The kid wasn't going to show.
Corey was nearly an hour late for their last run-through of the anticrime presentation they were scheduled to give the next week.
It shouldn't surprise him, since the day seemed to be rapidly changing from bad to worse, starting first thing when he had walked out of his bedroom before his shift that morning to find Sarah headed for the front door, her bags in tow.
He had talked until his teeth ached, trying to convince her to stay at his house a few more days, but she had been adamant.
He knew why she was eager to leave, and he couldn't say he blamed her. The tension between them had become unbearable.
Even though he knew why she wanted to go, he sure as hell didn't have to like it. The idea of her living alone, unprotected, on that dark street with whoever had targeted her still on the loose appealed to him about as much as sticking his hand in a meat grinder.
He had argued fiercely, but she had stood firm. He had seen a completely unexpected stubborn light in her soft green eyes and had recognized the futility of pushing any harder.
The window installers were coming that day and she itched to get back to her gardens on her day off, she said. What did he expect her to do all day at his house alone?
He blew out a breath. He should have tried harder, but she had been right—what difference would it make if she spent the day alone at his house or alone at her own?
Finally he'd decided to let it ride, as long as she agreed to take Daisy with her for protection. The big dog could stand guard until the end of his shift, when he would take over. Though, of course, he neglected to fill Sarah in on that little detail of his plan.
Daisy was as gentle as a lamb, but her sheer size alone might deter any attacker and she also had moments of fierceness when the people she loved were threatened. One day the summer before, she had faced off against an angry bull at the Diamond Harte when Lucy had wandered into the wrong pasture by mistake. Since the dog had immediately taken Sarah into her big heart, he had no doubt she'd protect her any way she could.
Even with Daisy on guard duty, though, he couldn't shake his uneasiness.
Only part of this itch between his shoulder blades had to do with any hypothetical danger Sarah might be in. He had faced a few things in the middle of yet another night stirring and pacing down the hall from her. Things that scared him far more than punks who scrawled graffiti on her door.
He cared about Sarah McKenzie, in a way he never had about any other woman. Somehow her gentleness and her courage and her quiet beauty had reached right in and wrapped themselves around his heart.
He'd been hoping Corey would help take his mind off Sarah and these new terrifying feelings, but now he didn't even have that.
His stomach grumbled, reminding him he'd been too busy arguing with her—and trying to fight the urge to quiet that soft mouth the very best way he could come up with—that he hadn't had time to grab anything to eat for breakfast.
There were usually bagels out by the coffeemaker, the healthier alternative to that old cop cliché, doughnuts. He walked out to check out his options and found Chris Hernandez standing at the desk talking through the security window to someone in the small waiting room.
The officer turned when she heard him approach. "Chief, the mayor's wife is here. For some reason, she seems to think she's supposed to be picking her son up here. Do you know anything about it?"
He frowned. So Corey had ditched him without his mother's knowledge. The little rascal. "I'll take care of it, Chris."
He walked up to the window to greet Ginny. She smiled brightly when she saw him and hitched Maddie higher on her hip. She was wearing one of those designer nylon workout suits and looked cool and stylish, except for the mushy crumbs on her shoulder from the cookie Maddie was flailing around in her chubby little hands.
Even with the crumbs, Ginny looked worlds away from the scared, defeated woman who had lived on Elk Mountain with Hob Sylvester.
"Hi, Jess. I'm here for Corey, but if the two of you aren't done, I'm happy to wait."
He hated having to pop that cheerful mood of hers, but her scamp of a son hadn't left him with much choice. "Corey's not here, Gin. He never showed."
Her bright smile trickled away like petals blown on a hard wind. "What do you mean, he never showed? I dropped him off right in front of the police station more than an hour ago. I watched him walk in."
"He must have waited until you drove away, then snuck right back out again. I'm sorry."
She seemed to shrink, to crumple right in front of his eyes. "I don't understand this. I thought he was really looking forward to your presentation. Why would he run off?"
"It's a nice day. Maybe he just wanted to go fishing or something."
"Maybe." She didn't look convinced. Instead, she looked about ready to burst into tears any minute now.
Aw, hell. Just what he needed. He wasn't any good with crying women. "Come on back and we can talk about it." He thumbed the security button for the door, then held it open for her. "Here, let me take the rug rat."
The baby felt soft and light in his arms, despite her chubby arms. She grinned at him, proudly displaying all four of her little teeth, and handed him her cookie.
"No, thanks," he said. "Maybe later, sweetheart."
Maddie seemed to think that was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard. She let out a piercing squeal and bucked her whole body back and forth, forcing him to hold on tight so she didn't slip out of his arms.
"Whoa there, partner." He laughed and Maddie responded to it by giving another James Brown-like squeal and patting his cheeks with her sticky fingers.
"I'm sorry. She's such a mess." Now Ginny looked embarrassed and defeated.
"I'll wash."
He didn't mind. Maddie was a doll, with her chubby cheeks and that curly blond hair and huge blue eyes. A quick memory of his niece Lucy when she was this age flitted through his mind—how she used to curl up on his lap with her thumb in her mouth and let him rock her to sleep.
He'd forgotten that. Lucy hadn't cared that he was a wild hell-raiser in those days—she had given him unconditional love anyway. To her, he was probably just the big, funny-looking guy who told silly jokes and tickled her cheeks with his razor stubble.
What would it be like to have one of these of his own?
The thought came out of the blue, just about knocking him on his butt. He had a sudden image of a giggly little girl with Sarah's honey-blond hair and big green eyes.
Yikes. Slow down. That kind of thinking could get a man in serious trouble.
"I'm so sorry about the mix-up," Ginny said when they reached his office. "I'm sure you had a million better things to do than sit here waiting for Corey to show."
He jerked his mind away from the weird, terrifying fantasies that had suddenly taken over. "It's no big deal I'm just worried about him. Any clue where he might have gone?"
"No. How terrible is that for a mother to say? I have no idea where my son might be." Misery coated her voice. "Probably the same place he's been sneaking off to for the last few months."
"He's been doing a lot of this?"
"Two nights ago he climbed out his bedroom window and took off somewhere until after two in the morning. The only reason we knew he'd been gone is that Maddie woke up. When I got her settled back to sleep, I went to check on Corey and caught him climbing back through the window."
"Did he say where he'd been?"
"Just hanging out with his friends. That's what he says, anyway. I don't know what to do anymore. We've taken away his bike and his scooter and his roller blades. He hasn't had TV or computer privileges in a month. Nothing we do is working. He's still sneaking out. Seth is talking about sending him to military school—this whole brand thing has been the last straw. Can you imagine a child doing such a thing to himself?"
"Maybe military school would be the best thing for him, just for a while. Until he straightens himself out."
Tears welled up in her eyes. "He's just a baby, Jess. Ten years old. It's a terrible thing to feel like you're losing your child."
He passed her his handkerchief and shifted Maddie in his arms, guilt tugging at him. He sure hadn't done a very good job of finding out what was happening with the kid. He'd thought they were making progress the few times they'd rehearsed, but Corey still clammed up every time Jesse tried to talk about anything other than their presentation.
"We'll find him, Gin. I've got two officers out in the field right now. I'll have them both keep an eye out for him and I'll hunt for him, too." They could look between their hourly patrols past Sarah's house. "We'll get to the bottom of it, I promise."
She sniffled into the handkerchief. "Thank you, Jess. Why do I always seem to end up dumping my problems on you?"
"I just wish you didn't have so many to deal with. You deserve to be happy."
Her chin wobbled a little. "Do I?"
"Yes. Of course! You've been through some rough times, but you've survived. You've made a great life for yourself, with a good, decent man. Hang in there. Corey will settle down. Look at me. I was a whole lot more wild than he could ever dream of being and I turned out okay."
She managed a watery grin. "That's a matter of opinion."
Maddie apparently thought that was the second funniest thing she'd ever heard. She let loose with another round of squealing giggles, showing off her tiny little teeth.
"See? She agrees with me."
This time Ginny's smile looked a little more natural, he was relieved to see. "I'd better take the little urchin home and get her washed up," she said.
"Thanks Jess, for everything. I don't know what I'd do without you."
He rose along with her. "I'll carry Maddie out for you."
"You don't have to do that. I'm used to carrying her."
"Let me. I don't get to hold a sweet little thing like this very often."
"You need a family of your own. I've always thought you'd make a wonderful father."
He thought of that little girl he'd just imagined with Sarah's eyes and smile. The funny tug in the pit of his stomach just about made him break into a cold sweat.
He hid his reaction behind a casual grin. "No, thanks. I see Lucy and Dylan and all the mischief they get into, and then the grief that Corey's giving you right now, and it convinces me maybe I'm better off sticking with Daisy. At least she doesn't talk back to me much."
Ginny's smile was bittersweet. "Oh, Jess. Children might break your heart sometimes, but they bring far more joy than sorrow, even in the worst of times."
"I'll have to take your word for that."
They walked out of his office into the squad room and were nearly to the door when Ginny stopped behind him.
"Hey, why do you have Seth's favorite fishing cap? Did he leave it here? I swear, that husband of mine would lose his head if it wasn't screwed on."
He froze, Maddie still squirming in his arms, and turned back to her. Ginny was holding the evidence bag containing the only link they had to the suspect in the vandalism at Sarah's house.
He thought of smeared blood and vicious messages and shattered windows. "That hat belongs to Seth?" he asked carefully, his heart pounding in a thick and sluggish away.
"Believe me, I wouldn't make a mistake about something like that. I've tried to burn the blasted thing several times. You'd think it was solid gold, for all the fuss Seth makes whenever I threaten to throw it away. He about pitched a fit when he couldn't find it last week. He'll be so glad to have it back." She reached to open the bag.
"Wait!"
His loud command made Ginny jump and Maddie giggle. His mind raced as he tried to process the information and figure out what to tell Ginny about the ugly suspicions that had suddenly taken root.
"Do you mind if I hang on to it for a while longer? I'd like to see his face when he gets it back. My officers would enjoy playing a little joke on the mayor. You know. Wrap it up and give it to him as a gift for, um, giving us such a hard time about our budget."
She shrugged. "Sure. Anything to keep that stinky, dirty old thing out of my house a little longer."
He could think of nothing but the implications of that cap belonging to Seth as he walked Ginny to her Range Rover and buckled Maddie into her car seat in the back.
He gave the little girl a distracted kiss, then kissed Ginny on the forehead. "I'll let you know if we find Corey. If he comes
home before you hear from me, give me a buzz so I can call off my officers."
"Thanks, Jess." Some of her cheerfulness had returned and she smiled and waved as she backed out of the parking space and drove away.
He watched her go, his mind still racing. Could Seth really have been involved with the vandalism at Sarah's house? He thought about how upset the mayor had been when he'd been accused of abusing Corey. Could he have somehow found out Sarah was behind the accusation? Was this a payback of some kind?
It didn't make sense. He had known Seth most of his life, gone to Scout camp with him, double-dated in high school. The man he knew couldn't possibly be capable of such viciousness, could he?
But what other explanation could there be for his cap being on the scene?
Somehow Corey was the link. He needed to find the kid, sit him down and have a good long talk.
He was just sliding into his Bronco when his radio buzzed with static. "Chief, do you copy?" Jim Lovell's voice came over the airwaves along with a big dose of static.
He reached for the mike. "Yeah, Jim. What's up?"
"You might want to get over here. Ron Atkins just found a body on his ranch. A woman's body."
His heart stopped beating, his vision dimmed around the edges. All he could think of was Sarah, alone at her house with just a dog for protection.
* * *
Sarah hummed along with the country song on the radio as she tore pieces of lettuce for her salad. It was a little late for lunch—after three—but she'd been too busy earlier in the day to eat.
Daisy sat at her feet, looking up every few minutes with a hopeful look in her big brown eyes.
"I don't think you'd like the salad, sweetie," she assured the dog, but slipped her a few pieces of cold chicken anyway. They disappeared with one big gulp and a plea for more, making her laugh.
She had spent a great morning puttering around in her garden. She had needed it after the night before, desperately craved the peace she found there. Having Daisy's gentle, uncomplicated company had only made the morning that much sweeter.
TAMING JESSE JAMES Page 15
