Fifteen Years of Lies

by Ann Minnett

  She snaked between two trucks angled into the curb, and headed for the mashed rear hatch of her Outback. Tension between her shoulders eased with the distance between herself and Rob.

  "Hey,” he shouted. “What happened?"

  She turned and pointed to her chest, miming the question, Me?

  "Yeah, you. What happened to your car?"

  "Operator error." She got in and backed out.

  He motioned for her to crank down her window. "I know something about geometry. I majored in engineering before switching to finance."

  "Hmm." Her clackety engine was either cold or on its last leg. "Okay. You help Zane, and I'll interview you for the wolf attack article." Her heart pounded with the bold move, and she regretted it instantly.

  "Sounds reasonable."

  "Dee's coming, too," she added and drove away. Second thoughts gave her the shakes. She parked around the corner behind Tally Jewelry to call him and say never mind, but she didn’t have his number. She punched #3 on speed dial. Dee answered, bar noise in the background.

  "How's it going?"

  "Tigers?" Dee said. "Why would you mention the Amazon Jungle?" She liked her blind date. Well, this was new.

  "Get your ass out of there and over to my condo pronto. Rob's coming over to help Zane with geometry, and I need backup to see what he’s up to."

  "Lark, don't do it."

  "He won't try anything with you and Zane there. Bring what’s-his-name."

  Dee remained silent.

  "Put on your big girl panties and help me." Lark disconnected the call and drove the short distance home thinking, c'mon girl, you can do it.

  CHAPTER 14

  Lark patted the pocket knife in her jeans and answered the front door. She held the storm door open for Rob, stretching at maximum distance so as not to brush against him. She wasn't in the least attracted to him. He detested her. So why was he making nice?

  The stained shirt and vest he’d worn minutes ago at the bar had been replaced by a McCord’s t-shirt advertising Cheap Drinks - Good Food but tucked into the same pants.

  "What's the matter with you? It must be ten degrees." She quickly closed the door behind him.

  He rubbed his palms together to generate heat. "I didn't realize how gruesome I looked."

  Oh yes, he did. She reached for Zane's sweatshirt hanging on the hall tree but stopped herself. She didn't need to mother this weirdo. "I appreciate the gesture," she said.

  He shivered.

  "How about hot coffee?"

  "Sounds good." He held out a book-sized mailer. "I come bearing gifts."

  "What the… Not again." She looked inside.

  "I had to buy a dozen or nothing online." Multiple pairs of curly-cue laces fell out of the upturned envelope.

  She held up the navy-blue pair.

  "I thought a dozen might scare you."

  "And hundreds of dollars wouldn't?"

  His small gesture would have been acceptable, even charming, but after all the money mess, it didn't ring true. His self-satisfied smile annoyed her. Obviously, he knew how to charm. Dark eyes glistened when his white-toothed smile broadened. She had to admit he wasn't bad looking. "Right. Coffee." She took three steps into the kitchen to bide time until Dee arrived.

  "I drink it black."

  Black hair, beard, eyes, dog. Black coffee. She remembered his shiny black truck. "Have a seat. Zane just got home." She shouted, "Zane, Rob’s here to help with geometry."

  Zane opened his door unleashing a chilly breeze from his open window in the tiny condo.

  "Oh, hey." Zane waved at their visitor and scratched his belly. A faint line of hairs marked his sternum and up and down from there. Jeans and a gathering of red boxers above the waistband threatened to drop from his skinny hips. Just looking at him gave her goose bumps.

  "What is it with you guys?" She needed to take control of this situation. "Put some clothes on. It's winter for pity sakes."

  "Ten-four," Zane said but stood right where he was. Bloodshot eyes indicated the second time she was sure he had smoked pot. She would shut that down later, but chose not to make a scene in front of Rob. "You remember Rob? He's a geometry whiz. Zane, put a shirt on." She returned to the kitchen, then stuck her head around the corner. "Tell Zane what happened to Raven." She sounded like a sitcom mom or party hostess.

  Zane scratched and smirked. "Who's Raven?"

  Rob whispered, "My dog, you little shit."

  Lark heard him. She flew around the corner to object, but Rob had grabbed Zane's arm and escorted him to his room. "You're loaded," he said.

  "Hey," Zane said half-heartedly.

  "Little shit."

  "Hey."

  Rob stood in the doorway. "You already said that.” Then, loud and cheerful, he added, “Get a shirt on and come out and talk to us. Then we tackle geometry!"

  She motioned with a carving knife for Rob to join her by the stove. "I heard that, and the only reason I'm not throwing you out on your ass is that he is a shit for smoking pot. But this is my business. Butt out."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  That innocent polite shit might work on some women, but not her. "And you know geometry."

  "Right."

  "Not to mention your wolf story. I want to write an article about it." Where in the hell is Dee?

  "Okay, sure. I just want to help."

  Talking to him this close gave her the hives. She usually intimidated men, but he stood firm. "You've helped enough. Lay off my son." Big words from a woman who lately questioned her every decision in raising her child. It used to be easy when her self-sufficiency knew no bounds. Now? Maybe Zane needed a man in his life to say Shut the fuck up. When she tried similar tough tactics, Zane just laughed.

  "You know,” Rob said, “I used to walk around my grandparents' house like that when I was his age. Full of myself, I was."

  She blocked the image from her mind.

  Zane returned, clothed, as Dee breezed in. "Hello there," she said to Rob and Zane before heading straight to the kitchen.

  Zane waved. "Hey, Aunt DeeDee."

  She waved at him and sidled next to Lark. "Why the hell did you invite him here?"

  "Just watch my back. Where’s your date?"

  Dee whispered, “Jim’s nice but he isn’t ready for our drama.”

  Lark found the sugar bowl and cream pitcher at the back of a high shelf.

  Dee thumbed toward the other room and said, “I don’t like this.”

  Rob stared at the opened geometry book on the table, flipping through the pages. The two bent over the text for the thirty minutes before Lark and Dee drifted out of the kitchen and joined them at the table. Rob restricted his remarks to, "Think, man" and "Try this." Zane remained respectful yet subdued throughout the tutoring session. They even chuckled once. The little shit episode hung in the air, grating on her, but the two guys took it in stride. Lark found herself relaxing in conversation with Dee while the geometry session progressed. Until the textbook closed.

  Rob stood, circled the breakfast bar separating the dinette table from the kitchen. He said, “Anyone else want more coffee?” A cabinet door slammed. And another.

  Lark and Dee looked quizzically at one another. Lark sprang to her feet.

  Rob stared into her narrow pantry, rummaging through packages of cookies and crackers. “Got anything to eat?” he asked when he saw her. He pulled a package of Oreos free from a basket. “I haven’t eaten an Oreo in ten years.”

  Lark hugged her body, watching him scrounge through her cabinets as if he pawed her body. “Get out of there.”

  “Really. I never buy them,” he smirked, taking the cookies to the table.

  Lark followed, so incensed that her jaw locked. She gathered the neck of her sweater close to her throat.

  “Don’t you want some?” Rob tore open the cellophane and offered Lark a cookie.

  Zane removed a stack of Oreos from the package and said, "Later, man. Thanks." He patted the shoulder of a somber Aunt
DeeDee and disappeared into his room, his backpack and books left behind.

  "No problem." Rob waved at Zane's back. He pried the cookie apart, licked the filling. From nowhere he said, "You can write about the wolves and Raven, but don't use my name."

  "Why not? People would love to read about what you did." She expected Rob’s giant ego would love the publicity.

  "Doesn't matter. Don't use my name or my picture. I came to Montana to be just another fool on the bus." Only Rob smiled at his joke.

  How the hell would she write about the wolf attack without using the creep’s name or a photo? She had already planned the photo of him comforting the recovering Raven near his wood stove at home. Sky could take the picture.

  "I'm dead serious. I'll p—" He choked back the words.

  Good God, he's about to pay me not to write the story.

  "Paying me off?" She dunked an Oreo into her coffee, a blasphemous abuse of an Oreo she had never tried before. His demand confused her. "You don't just throw money at people."

  Dee slumped in her chair. "Not everyone agrees."

  Rob shrugged. "My mistake, sorry."

  "Do you do that often? Shower strangers with gifts?" She looked significantly at Dee, hoping to catch her eye. Can you believe this guy?

  "Not really." He brushed crumbs from his beard. "I thought I'd try it out in my new life, but it's awkward. We’ve been through this."

  He’s so full of bullshit. I'll bet money greased his way through life.

  Lark asked him, "New life?"

  "I'm starting over." When she remained quiet, he added, "I quit my old ways and want to live a better life. Be a better person."

  Lark kicked Dee’s leg under the table. Dee roused to say, "Old life? Are you in the witness protection program?"

  Oh, pah-leez. Lark snuck a peek at the clock over the stove. It was getting late.

  "I worked in finance. You know, investing other people's money."

  Here it comes. I'm so rich, and I have this and that, and I don't have to work, and…

  "I made a lot of money at the expense of investors. My company took advantage of them, and so did I, but it starved my soul."

  Wait a minute. He sounded sincere. She caught Dee’s eye. Is he for real?

  He got up to refill his cup and sloshed a bit into hers without asking. "Dee?"

  "No, I’ve got to go." Dee got up, stretched and yawned.

  He failed to get the message. "We didn't break the law, but we bent it beyond recognition, and I promised myself I'd get out when I could."

  Lark asked him, "Where's your family?"

  "Grandparents raised me, but they're gone now."

  "Children?"

  "Nope. Never married or had kids."

  Lark didn't believe him, and neither did Dee. She took another Oreo and sat back down. Her brow furrowed.

  "I've had my share of girlfriends, but my soul-numbing job took it all out of me."

  Bullshit. But very clever. She didn’t trust this soul-sufferer. "So that doesn't explain why you sent me money anonymously. Frankly, it’s weird."

  He squirmed. "I should just go through regular channels, like agencies, people doing good works. Oh, like violence against women and that sort of thing." His dark eyes bore into hers, communicating something more, but what?

  Lark couldn’t identify what bothered her, but her central nervous system went on full alert. She carried her cigarettes to the patio door and cracked it an inch. She blew smoke out the narrow opening, grateful to have distance from Mr. Soulful. "I volunteer at Sister House. We both do." Her words were small, compact and controlled. Let's see if you put your money where your mouth is.

  "What's that?"

  "Sister House," Dee said, "runs a shelter for women who experience violence. Mostly domestic violence."

  "Worthy cause." He wiped his flat hand over the table. Back and forth.

  His demeanor patronized. What the hell did he know about it?

  "And you volunteer there?"

  "We do." Dee pointed at Lark and then herself.

  "What type of work do you do for them?"

  "I sit in on some of the support groups,” Dee said, “and sometimes give the women make-overs."

  Lark listened to Dee but watched Rob carefully for a reaction.

  He said nothing, but his eyebrows rose in the unspoken question: Were you a victim? People sometimes wondered, and Lark usually dodged the question. Nora told her about something she read: Pearls before swine… Don't scatter your precious secrets before people who would not, could not, appreciate their significance.

  "I do scut-work for them. Transport, answer phones. Web updates. The women who live there do the housekeeping. I'm not qualified to mentor them or anything." Lark stepped onto her icy patio and puffed twice on the cigarette. She field stripped the butt, trying to decipher what was off about this Rob.

  "I'd like to donate," he said after she returned to the table. "What's the address?"

  Dee had scooted her chair away from him and sat with arms folded across her chest. "PO box is all we can give you. The address isn't public info."

  Lark thought about the two sets of bunk beds in each bedroom at the center, how Cheryl, the director constantly hustled for donations. "It's common knowledge where we're located, but the abuser sometimes tries to find her, and it's helpful to have a lower profile. The location, that is."

  "I see."

  She wondered.

  "Those bastards are cowards." He straightened, shook it off. "Men who hurt women are cowards. The lowest. I can't imagine a rapist, let's say, barging into a shelter for his woman.”

  Lark shivered. “You can't judge a man's heart from his looks or money or even by his professed good intentions. You just never know.”

  "I'm sorry if I got too personal." He turned contrite instantly, like logging off emotionally.

  That's it. He's too sincere, too earnest.

  Dee must have sensed it, too, because she got up to leave. She knocked on Zane's door. "Hey, walk me out to my car."

  "Why would you say personal?" Lark's chest tightened, her breath shallowed.

  “No reason.” Rob stood to leave. "Thanks for the snack."

  Lark retreated around the breakfast bar as they left, overwhelmed with remorse for inviting him into her home. His grudging self-revelations only exposed more of what she feared. He left with a silent, back-handed wave. His truck's headlights moved across her thin drapes as he pulled away from her curb. She sighed with relief and crawled into bed fully clothed to ward off the persistent chill she couldn't shake. Her mind raced.

  Rob attended Mizzou. He knew she had also gone there, of all universities. What were the odds? He recognized her tattoo, but two others at Mizzou had similar tattoos, and only Dee had hers at the start of the year. Even if she had coincidentally met Rob at college, why wouldn't he recognize her face or her name other than from the tattoo?

  She turned on her side, drew her knees to her chest. She gasped. A glimmer of truth grew into an ice-cold certainty. He was one of them. A long ten minutes elapsed before she dialed Dee's number.

  "I just walked in." Dee sneezed. "What's up?"

  "What did you think about Rob?"

  "To be honest, nothing, except he’s a tad creepy." Dee's tone lacked conviction.

  "I don't believe you."

  "Lark, I don't want to think about it."

  "There's something about him that leaves me cold. You felt it, too because I saw it on your face tonight."

  Dee said, "Like what."

  "Like when he smiled, it didn't include his eyes."

  "Hmmm."

  "And the way he jumped on our Sister House work." Lark reluctantly got out of bed, lit a cigarette, and opened her bedroom window.

  "That was strange."

  "And he assumed we were victims of violence."

  Dee sighed. "Lots of people think that of the volunteers. He's weird, but Lark, the man paid no attention to me. Don't you think he would have?" Dee left t
he thought unfinished.

  "Right. He's stalking me, not you or Nora."

  "You think he's stalking you?"

  "What would you call it?" Lark thought she sounded crazy. "Maybe not traditional stalking, but he's trying to make up for the past. Something that happened at Mizzou."

  Dee remained silent.

  Lark had to open the subject carefully. She shivered in the dark and thought longingly of the cozy blanket on her bed. "Dee, maybe he was one of them."

  No response.

  "He recognized me only from the tattoo, Dee."

  "But…"

  "He doesn't know that we all three have a large tattoo on our left legs."

  "Oh, Lark, no."

  "I think he's one of them, and when he saw my tattoo, he assumed I had been assaulted at Mizzou." Lark's heart raced. "If he had seen yours or Nora's, he'd have thought you were the one..." Her stomach turned. The silence from Dee's end was unbearable. "He didn't recognize the face—only the tattoo." She couldn't go on, dared not state the obvious, that a body with a tattoo had been gang-raped. Not a woman. A body with a vagina.

  "We have to tell Nora," Dee said quietly at last.

  "Yes."

  "If this is true, he doesn't really know who we are."

  "No." Lark's raspy voice, barely a whisper.

  "What now?"

  "You tell Nora about our suspicions,” Lark said, as always taking control. “I'll see what I can find out about him. It's all for one and one for all, Dee."

  Lark terminated the call amid dead silence. She cranked her window closed and slipped back into bed. She curled tight into herself.

  Rob had given her money like she was a whore. Would he have done the same for Nora or Dee if he had noticed their tattoos? He mentioned amends. Did he belong to a sick twelve-step program for perverts to make amends to their victims to feel better about themselves? How nauseating. And she had allowed him into her home for a wolf story.

  She and her friends had felt powerless for so long, never expecting to settle an old score. Well, now the universe had possibly presented them a guilty rapist with a shred of conscience who thought he could buy her off.

  Finally, we have the upper hand, Lark thought. Let him think I'm a victim.

  CHAPTER 15