Let Me Know

by Stina Lindenblatt

  “Show me where it says I’m not a victim because I had sex to stay alive. And just so you know, because you want the intimate details of my sex life with Paul, I cried while I was having sex with him. I cried when he was done and left me numb on the bed. I cried when I was positive I couldn’t do it anymore.

  “Maybe this is how women respond when they have sex with you, but I assure you, Mr. Bischoff, this is not the response of a female who is enjoying the act.”

  Asshole Lawyer turns a brilliant shade of red, but the majority of the people nod their approval.

  I expect the judge to strike the gravel and call me in contempt, but all he says is, “Mr. Bischoff, do you have any more questions for the witness?”

  “Yes, Your Honor, I do.” He turns to me. “If you wanted him to stop, then why didn’t you use your safe word? If you had used it, then he would have known the sexual fantasy was over and he would have stopped.”

  Mom prepared me for this question; otherwise, I’d have no idea what he’s talking about. “I didn’t have a safe word because I never consented to any sexual role-play.”

  “It’s in the letters you wrote to Mr. Carson.”

  My heart stops beating and all the blood drains to my feet. “The letters I didn’t write,” I counter.

  Asshole Lawyer smirks. He knows I’m screwed. Whoever forged the letters included a safe word. If I claim I used it, then the abuse will be considered criminal instead of a sexual role-play, and therefore Paul raped me. But it means I have to lie and admit to writing the letters. “I don’t have any more questions.” He walks back to his seat.

  The euphoria from besting him at his game vanishes, and I return to my friends and family.

  Marcus leans over and whispers, “You did great, Kitten.” He threads his fingers with mine, and his warm hand reminds me I’m not alone. No matter what the outcome, he’ll be there for me.

  My chest tightens. Even if Paul gets a reduced sentence and is eventually free to stalk me again, Marcus will be there for me. And then both our lives will be at risk.

  The police officer who was on duty when Trent’s wrecked car was found is called to testify. He’s listed as a witness for the defense.

  “What did you find when you approached the vehicle?” Asshole Lawyer asks.

  “There was a teenage boy trapped in the mangled wreck. He was unresponsive when I checked him. He died en route to the hospital.”

  Struggling to hold back a sob, I tighten my hold on Marcus’s hand, to the point I’m positive I’m crushing his bones. He doesn’t try to loosen my grip.

  “Did you find anything else? Like evidence that Mr. Carson was responsible for causing the accident?”

  “No. There was nothing in the car other than Trent Kincaid and a dead crow. It was believed to have been hit by the vehicle when it lost control, and the crow wound up inside when the windshield shattered. Its neck was broken.”

  The prison door opens and a crow flies in. I have no idea which one of us is more scared.

  It swoops around, looking for a place to escape. Its squawks and cries for help are deafening. As much as I want to, I can’t block out the sound. My arms are handcuffed to the wall.

  I start screaming for it to stop. I just want it to stop. Someone, please make it stop.

  Paul enters the room. “Don’t worry, Amber. I won’t let it hurt you. Just like I didn’t let Trent continue to hurt you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I scream.

  He doesn’t answer. He grabs the bird as it flies close to him. It frantically beats its wings in a mad attempt to escape, but it fails and Paul snaps its neck. In that simple move, he says more than words could say.

  I scream once more, but this time I can’t stop.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Marcus

  Amber pulls her knees to her chest, becoming as small as possible. She’s staring ahead, but I have a feeling she doesn’t see the short wall separating us from the D.A.

  Then her arms start flailing, knocking away an invisible foe, her eyes wild.

  “It’s okay, Amber,” I tell her. “You’re safe.” I keep repeating it as her mom and I duck, narrowly escaping being hit in the face by Amber hands. But my words have no impact; she starts screaming.

  Careful to avoid touching her wrists, I gently grab her arms and continue telling her she’s safe. Around us the murmur of curious onlookers builds in intensity. The sound is interrupted by the banging of the gavel and the judge calling for order. The loud murmur of voices dies away.

  I wrap my arms around her trembling body while I continue trying to comfort her with my words. After another second or two she blinks herself back to awareness as her screams fade away. The trembling’s still there, but it’s not as bad as before.

  Once she’s finally able to talk, she whispers, “I remembered something. I remembered about a crow in my prison. And Paul.”

  The D.A turns to us, and Amber’s mom leans forward and tells her what happened. The woman nods, turns back to the front, and stands. “Your Honor. We would like to call for a recess. Miss Scott had a flashback and remembers something important to the case. I need a few minutes to talk to her.”

  The judge looks at Amber. Her face is pale, making the dark circles under her eyes stand out more. “All right. It’s getting late. We’ll adjourn for the day. You can interview her in my chambers.”

  The shithead defense doesn’t look too thrilled with the outcome. Behind them, a girl who could easily be the psychopath’s sister glances at Amber. For a second I swear the look in her eyes flashes to fear. But the change in her was so fast, I can’t be sure. She catches me watching her and quickly returns her attention to her brother.

  During the trial, my anger has progressed from a simmer to a full-out boil. It’s taken a small miracle to keep me from jumping over the wall and pounding on the psychopath. I haven’t been able to see his face and his reactions to what Amber’s been saying, but my imagination is pretty vivid.

  He’s led away in handcuffs; his lawyer trails behind. Once he’s gone, the D.A escorts Amber, her mom and me into another room. She indicates for us to take a seat and sits in the chair behind the desk. I sense she’d prefer I wasn’t here, but has resigned herself to the fact that Amber needs me, like she needs the D.A to be on her side.

  “Can you tell us what you remember?” the woman asks her.

  Amber closes her eyes and grows pale. “I remembered something that happened when the cop mentioned the dead crow.” She reopens her eyes, but the color in her cheeks doesn’t return.

  The D.A nods for her to continue.

  “Paul released a crow into the prison he kept me in. He told me he wouldn’t let the bird hurt me. Just like he hadn’t let Trent continue to hurt me. Then he grabbed the freaked-out bird and broke its neck.”

  “And you’ve never told anyone this before?” I ask. The D.A flashes me a warning glance.

  Amber shakes her head. “I’d blocked it out until now.” She looks back and forth between the three of us. “Do you think it’s important?”

  “It might be.” The D.A asks Amber more questions about what happened.

  I give a snort of disgust once they’ve finished. “His fuckhead lawyer is doing a great job making him look innocent because of mental issues,” I snap, unable to hold back any longer. I’ve moved way past full-out boil and have ventured into scorching fire. “The psychopath doesn’t need to be in a cozy psych ward. He needs to go to jail. For good.”

  He needs to be locked away where there’s no chance in hell he’ll ever be free. Where there’s no chance in hell he can hurt Amber again.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Amber

  The interrogation-room walls close in on me. I should be in court, watching the trial. So why are Marcus and I waiting to talk to someone, but the cops won’t tell me who it is—or why?

  Marcus wasn’t invited to join me, but since he refuses to leave my side, the cops caved in to his demands in the end. And
although Mom has been assured that I’m not in trouble and don’t need a lawyer, Marcus isn’t as easily convinced. He doesn’t trust cops. I can’t say I blame him given everything we’ve both been through.

  The door opens and a detective I recognize enters, followed by Rosemary Carson, Paul’s sister, wearing a waitressing uniform. She’s paler than yesterday. Paler and drained. Drained of her life. Drained of her spirit.

  The cop pulls out the seat across from me and indicates for Rosemary to sit. He sits next to her, on the short side of the table.

  “Miss Carson insisted on talking to you, and given what she has to say, I thought you’d be interested in listening. And even though she has declined to have a lawyer here, everything she says will still go on record. Is that understood?” His gaze is directed at Rosemary when he says it. She nods, her eyes staring blankly at the table.

  “You’re positive I don’t need a lawyer?” I ask.

  “You can have one if you wish, but as I explained to your mother it won’t be necessary.”

  “Okay.” I turn my attention to Paul’s sister. Silence stretches between us. When she finally looks up, my eyes are met by her bloodshot ones.

  She takes a deep breath. “You have to understand, I love my brothers, like you loved yours.” Pain flickers on her face and understanding mists her eyes before she looks back down at the table. “After our mom died, Paul gave up everything to care for me and our younger brother. I don’t know how we would have survived without him. But then Jacob was diagnosed with cancer. We could barely afford the treatments. I didn’t realize at the time we could only afford them because Paul had come off his meds. He loved his brother so much, he was willing to risk everything to save him.

  “And then Paul disappeared. I had no idea where he had gone and neither did Jacob. We received the occasional note saying he was okay, but that was it.” She wipes away a tear and finally looks up at me. “It wasn’t until he was arrested for your kidnapping and the murders that I learned where he’d gone. I wanted to contact you and apologize for everything my brother had done, but his lawyer said it would be better for all concerned if I left you alone. I figured he was right. You were recovering in the hospital. The last thing you needed was for me to bring up bad memories.”

  Her words and pain stun me, but it still doesn’t explain the letters I never wrote. I’m about to point that out but she continues speaking.

  “Until two months ago, it looked like Jacob had gone into remission. But then he had a relapse and his new treatment regimen required tougher, more expensive therapy. We couldn’t afford it, and I was positive he would die.” She lets out a sob that threatens to rip into my heart.

  My vision blurs. Part of me wants to touch her hands folded on the table, to let her know I’m sorry…but I hold back. Instead, I grab Marcus’s hand resting on my thigh.

  I want to ask her about the letters but sense that part of the story is coming. She was found innocent of writing them, though I suspect there’s a lot more we don’t know. At no point has she asked for the money she desperately needs to save her brother.

  “A few weeks ago,” she continues, “a reporter approached me. She had found out about me and Jacob while researching a story she wanted to write about Paul. She offered me money to help her. In return, she would pay for Jacob’s therapy, and she would pay for a better lawyer for Paul. All I wanted was for my family to be together.”

  “She wrote the letters?”

  Rosemary shakes her head. “No, but she knew someone who could forge them.”

  “What reporter?” Marcus asks.

  “Her name’s Angelina Mathews. She works for Channel Four News.”

  Marcus and I exchange looks and shrug. The name’s familiar but that’s all I’ve got.

  The cop removes a page from the file in his hand and places it on the table. It’s a mug shot of a woman in her late twenties with long dark brown hair.

  “I know her,” Marcus says. “She harassed me at the grocery store one day and asked if it was true that we participated in violent forms of sexual activity.”

  Angelina’s been busy. “She tracked me down on campus while I was playing basketball with Emma, and asked what I thought about your sex video. That was before I knew there was a sex video.”

  “She was arrested this morning and her condo was searched. We now have a suspect for the video.” The cop nods at Marcus. “You’ll be hearing from us soon on that matter, but according to the suspect, she approached Ms. Mathews with the video. At that point it was only you and the suspect in the video. Ms. Mathews offered her a much better deal if the suspect participated in the much more elaborate production. The original version wasn’t enough for what Ms. Mathews needed. In comparison, it was tame. She was also involved in the editing of the final product.”

  “But why?” I ask. “Why would she do all of this? It’s not like she got anything out of it.”

  “We’re still trying to piece together her motive, but I suspect it’s career motivated. She was getting exclusives on the stories because she knew about them first. There will also be an internal investigation since evidence was released to her that should never have been.”

  He places several pages of lined paper with writing on them in front of me. “Do these look familiar?”

  I look at them and nod. “They’re my sociology notes from last semester.”

  “They were found in Miss Mathews’s condo.”

  Dizziness washes through me and I tighten my grip on Marcus’s hand. “She broke into my dorm room and stole my notes. But why?”

  “She needed samples of your handwriting so the letters could be forged. We also found these.” He places on the table magazines similar to the ones found in my room when the cops searched it.

  “What does this mean now for the trial against Paul?”

  “That’s for the courts to decide, but I suspect much of Mr. Carson’s defense has been destroyed in light of these new allegations.”

  My next question is directed at Rosemary. “Why now? Why are you telling the truth now when you could have kept quiet, and your brother might have been given a reduced sentence?” And she wouldn’t be in trouble for obstructing the investigation and knowingly providing false information.

  “Because you’re not the same person Angelina described you as. She lied and manipulated me into believing you had used my brother when you didn’t care about him. Yesterday I heard about what you two are doing for the Little Heroes Center with the basketball game.

  “And when you started talking about how you had sex with my brother just to stay alive and then you had the flashback in court, I knew the lies Angelina had been feeding me couldn’t possibly be true. I wanted to believe my brother wasn’t capable of what he’s been accused of. He’s my brother after all. And I love him. I wanted to believe the best about him, but I realized it wasn’t enough.”

  She gives me a sad smile. “I’m sorry for everything my brother did to you, and for what I did to you. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, but I wanted you to know that I am sorry.”

  *

  After a grueling, week-long trial, and two days of jury deliberation, the head juror stands and I hold my breath, my fingers grasping the life out of Marcus’s hand.

  “Do you have a verdict for the charges against Paul Carson?” the judge asks.

  “We do. On the charge of aggravated kidnapping of Amber Scott, we the jury find the defendant, Paul Carson, guilty but mentally ill. On the charge of forced confinement, we find the defendant guilty but mentally ill. On the charge of five counts of rape, we find the defendant guilty but mentally ill. On the charge of the murder of Trent Kincaid, we find the defendant guilty but mentally ill. On the charge of the murder of Michael Scott, we find the defendant guilty….” The juror lists more charges against Paul, the majority of which he’s found guilty.

  A sob escapes me as I sit, stunned, absorbing the verdict. Piecing together what this all means. It’s only when Marcus hugs me, and
tells me I won, that I come to life. Still sobbing, I hug him back, then I hug Mom. I want to hug Emma and her family, too, but the judge has more to say.

  My heart goes out to Rosemary and Jacob, especially Jacob. Despite what Paul did, his family doesn’t deserve to be hurt the way it was in the end. If it hadn’t been for Angelina’s greed at advancing her career, regardless of what it cost everyone else, the worst they would be facing would be Paul locked away.

  Now, Rosemary faces jail time while her younger brother battles cancer.

  No one deserves that.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Marcus

  Amber and I watch from the sidelines as Emma waddles down the court in her oversized duck feet, dribbling the ball. The sold-out audience laughs and cheers her on.

  As she gets close to the three-point line, she passes the ball to Eric, who is dressed as a fairy princess. In basketball shoes. The women participating in the event argued he should be in heels, but good luck finding those for a six-foot-seven-inch man. Plus, the Chicago Bulls would have been royally pissed if he had fucked up his ankle or knee.

  But even without the heels, he looks hilarious as his hooped skirt flips up at the front and reveals his…basketball shorts.

  Beside me, Amber is grinning, free of everything weighing her down for the past year, especially after Paul was sentenced to life. He’ll never be able to stalk and terrorize her again. She’s a different girl now, but also the same one I fell in love with. Dressed in an overstuffed bunny costume and floppy ears, she bounces in her seat, cheering. And shit, even in that outfit she looks sexy as hell.