“Here I thought it was that beautiful man that had your attention.”
“What?” Jaime startled and looked around. “I wasn’t looking at a guy.”
“Too bad, because he’s staring at you. If I were his girlfriend I’d be jealous.”
“Then he certainly wasn’t looking at me. That doesn’t happen.”
“Happens all the time, but you choose not to see.” Caroline shook her head. “Don’t look now, but he’s coming our way.”
Jaime froze as her gaze connected with her neighbor with the out-of-control dog. What was his name? Yeah, like she’d forget the name of a man who looked like a modern Steve Rogers. She found herself drawn into Chandler’s slightly questioning gaze.
“Don’t even pretend to tell me you don’t know him,” Caroline murmured.
“Let’s, um . . .” Jaime licked her suddenly dry lips and wished she could guzzle her coffee to knock the dryness from her parched throat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Caroline.”
“Whatever.” She all but rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. So juvenile, and yet somehow so perfect.
Jaime tried to glance away from Chandler, but he had arrested her attention. Maybe she’d been too frustrated at their first encounter to notice the way he didn’t threaten her like most tall, powerful men with a military bearing. Instead, there was something friendly in the air as he ambled her way. Not good. She needed to take control from the start.
“Where’s your lion?” she snapped.
Confusion flashed across his face and tightened the skin around those perfect blue eyes. “You mean my dog? As I recall, you were the one with the wimpy lion.”
She shook her head as Caroline looked between them with her mouth hanging open. Jaime gave her friend a look. “You might want to be careful or you’ll catch flies.”
“Whatever.” Caroline smiled her dazzling perfect smile and extended her hand. “I’m Caroline Bragg. You are?”
“Chandler Bolton.” He shook her hand.
“It’s a pleasure.”
A barista called his name, but he lingered.
“You’d better get that before your coffee gets cold,” Jaime said.
He smiled at her. “How’s Simba? That’s his name, right?”
She wasn’t going to . . . She was too mature to roll her eyes . . . But oh, he brought that out in her. “Fine.”
Caroline stood. “I’ll grab the coffee while y’all spar.”
“You don’t need to do that.” Chandler’s words were quick, but Caroline was already off to the counter. Chandler watched her sashay away, then shook his head as he turned back to Jaime. “Is she always so—”
“Sassy?”
“I would have said spunky.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“Here’s your drink.” Caroline offered the to-go cup to him.
“Thanks.” Chandler took the cup and turned to Jaime. “See you around. I’ll try to keep Aslan from Simba. He’s taken a liking to that cat.”
The quirk at the corner of his mouth made Jaime wonder if he might feel the same.
As he walked toward the door, Caroline fanned herself with a napkin. “Whoo. You didn’t tell me there was a man in your life.”
“He is not ‘in my life.’ We’ve spent exactly ten minutes together—and they weren’t ten good minutes.”
“Well, I’d try another ten. That man is into you.”
As he exited the building without a backward glance, Jaime told herself Caroline was wrong. But as she watched, Chandler stopped to dig out his keys and looked in her direction. Their gazes collided through the window, and she felt a jolt. Maybe her friend wasn’t as crazy as Jaime wanted to believe.
CHAPTER 10
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 7
The afternoon rays of sun were shifting through the gauzy curtains at the window when Jaime walked back into her apartment. Caroline had tried one more time this morning to talk her into church. Even if Caroline had had a great time serving kids the day before, Jaime wasn’t interested.
Her friend had left a copy of the Washington Post on the island, open to a page in the Metro section, and Jaime was trying hard to ignore the headline: Congress Moves Forward with Confirmation Hearings for Army Generals. A row of stale headshots was lined beneath. Dane’s dark gaze stared at her from the middle, and a roar of anger built inside her. There wasn’t enough peppermint tea or quiet music in the world to soothe her. She grabbed a Sharpie from the junk drawer and scribbled all over his image until he disappeared.
She turned her back on the island and moved to the small couch. Why did her home feel so empty and crowded at the same time?
It was empty of people and full of dark memories. It hadn’t bothered her before Caroline arrived.
Simba strolled out of the bedroom with a meow. He walked between her legs and chirped to be picked up.
“All right, birdie.” She scooped him up and rubbed his belly as he purred. Her phone vibrated off the edge of the couch, and she bent down to pick it up, Simba lounging over her arm like an unconcerned trapeze artist hanging upside down from a bar.
We’ll be there in thirty minutes. We need to talk.
What? Why were her parents coming over? Their relationship worked best at a distance. It was . . . challenging . . . nothing like Leave It to Beaver.
Should she call or wait to see if they showed up?
She typed in one word and hit Enter. Why?
Your father got a call from your uncle.
Bile churned into overdrive in her stomach. This was a conversation she did not want to have, yet she had known her parents would hear about the criminal case. She should have let them hear it from her instead of from Dane.
I’ll be here.
Jaime hurried into the kitchen and pulled a brownie mix from the cupboard. At least she could try to distract her father with warm, chocolaty goodness. It would probably be as effective as drinking a Coke in front of a dentist, but she had to try.
Her thoughts churned as she stirred the gooey treat. How had Dane heard already? Surely he hadn’t been served in the forty-eight hours since she’d talked to Mitch. Did his network spread into the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s office? She shuddered at the thought, flipping brownie goo onto the countertop.
The front door opened, and Jaime froze. They couldn’t be here already.
“Hey, Jaime. I stopped and got us salads.” Caroline set a bag on the island.
The woman didn’t have to feed her every day, but it was nice that she did.
“Thanks. I’m . . . um . . . going to have company in a bit.”
“Oh? Do you need me to leave for a while?”
Caroline didn’t need to hear the conversation, but how could Jaime kick her out? “If you have some errand to run that might be good.”
“Can I eat first?”
“Sure.” Jaime finished stirring the mix, poured it into a pan, and slid it into the warm oven before grabbing the salad Caroline had brought her. Her friend didn’t press and instead told her about the church service—something Jaime could ignore while she listened for footsteps.
As the oven’s timer buzzed, a heavy knock shook the door.
Caroline started and almost fell off her stool. “What on earth?”
“Guess my parents are here.”
“Oh, good. I’ve never met them. Well, that once at graduation.”
No, not good at all. Jaime slid on oven mitts and pulled the brownies out, then dropped the oven mitts next to the pan. Caroline looked at her like she was crazy, so she hurried around the island to the door.
She opened the door with a fake smile that faltered the moment she saw her father’s mottled neck and face.
“I got a call from Dane last night.” Her father stood marine straight and would have intimidated her if she hadn’t seen him like this before . . . when he was around.
“Hello to you too.” She failed to keep the bite out of her voice. Could he ever come simply to see her? Did there alwa
ys have to be a mission?
“Bill, why don’t we sit first.” Her mother meant the words to calm, but instead they stirred up familiar anxiety. If only she would decisively stand up for Jaime. “What’s that great smell?”
“We need answers, Joann.”
“We do, but we’ll hear them better if we’re comfortable.” Her mother brushed past her father.
Joann Nichols was nearly as tall as her daughter, and she wasn’t a pushover. She gave Caroline a curious look. “Hello there. Who’s this?”
“I’m Caroline. Jaime’s letting me stay with her for a few days. I’ll get out of your way.” She turned to grab her purse and mouthed the words You okay? At Jaime’s nod she slipped out the door.
“I . . .” Jaime’s voice caught in her throat. The look on her father’s tight face froze the words in her throat, trapping all her carefully planned thoughts.
He powered past her without a hug, and she felt bereft, years of longing for a father’s comforting and safe embrace welling up in a moisture she couldn’t release.
She wanted to believe twenty years would make the telling easier. Instead, as she considered her mother’s concerned eyes, she felt the words rooted inside, deep and stubborn. Her mom hadn’t heard her as a scared eight-year-old. Her father hadn’t heard her jumbled pleas for help as a relieved father returning from another tour.
Why would they believe her now?
The voice she’d worked so hard to gain turned mute.
Caroline blew back in the front door. “I got outside and realized that church wore me out. I think I’ll rest for a bit in your bedroom, Jaime, if that’s okay.”
Jaime almost sagged with relief. Maybe Caroline’s presence would corral her father’s response. As the bedroom door clicked behind her roommate, Jaime slid into the kitchen.
“Can I get you something to drink, or a brownie? I just pulled them out.”
Her father sat, and the futon sagged. “Nothing here stiff enough to help.”
Jaime wanted to explain there was a reason for that. She couldn’t trust herself with anything potentially addictive. She’d learned the hard way in college that it was too easy to self-medicate in destructive ways. That’s when she’d turned to things like essential oils. Smelling the right scent was now enough to remind her to take a few breaths.
Mom sank next to him. “Honey, what is going on?”
Jaime cleared her throat and then rubbed her slick palms down her jeans. She tugged at a snag where she’d caught the left leg on something. Funny how jeans could be slashed, ripped, and torn and still look fashionable, while a snag made them imperfect rejects. She swallowed and fought back the panic. She needed to speak the truth. She needed to spit it out and know they heard her voice, her story.
“Honey?” Her mother leaned forward again. “Are you okay?”
“Can you explain why Dane called me with the crazy story that my daughter has pressed criminal charges against him?” The skin around her father’s eyes tightened, the clue he was barely restraining his anger.
“I . . .” The words blocked her throat.
“Whatever it is, we’re here for you.” Mom patted her father’s knee, and he took a slow breath.
“But you weren’t.” Jaime felt a tear release, and she fought to keep her breaths even. The dam breaking after so many years. Could she hold it back? Keep a torrent from being released?
Her mother edged closer. “Let me get you something to drink.”
“No, Mom.” Her words were sharp, and her mother flinched. “I don’t need a drink. What I need is for you to listen.”
CHAPTER 11
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 7
Her father leaned back against the couch as if the few extra inches would keep him out of her orbit of crazy. “That’s why we’re here.”
Oh, Daddy. If he only understood how much she’d needed him.
Her mother sank against the couch’s back, then exchanged a worried look with her father. Jaime could feel the tug to surrender to the silence. To let her thoughts slip to a safe place where she didn’t have to tell her parents they’d been betrayed by someone who should have protected her and honored the family relationship.
That his evil still filled her dreams twenty years later. That she was destined for a life alone because the thought of intimacy with a man made her throw up. That she was marked as damaged goods in a way that predators sensed and that sent good men running.
That she’d learned all of this in college when she was desperate to fill the holes in her soul. When alcohol had about taken her under when the boys couldn’t. That she had fought her way to the surface the hard and long way. That she determined isolation was better than submitting to the call of darkness that yawned within her.
Jaime didn’t even know she’d started rocking on her feet until Caroline slipped up next to her and pulled her into a hug. How had her friend known to come out of the bedroom?
“I can’t do this.” Her words were muffled as she sank her forehead onto Caroline’s bony shoulder. Her friend rubbed her back and shushed her like she was a child who needed comforting.
How very true that was.
She’d needed comforting.
But she’d needed protection more.
If her parents had defended her, the comfort wouldn’t be needed. And maybe her voice wouldn’t be trapped so deep inside all she could hear was the echoing scream. If she opened her mouth, would the scream escape? And if it did, could she silence it?
“I’m making tea.”
Jaime sensed her mother standing and then moving toward the sink. Caroline continued to rub her back, and Jaime wished she could succumb to numbness, pretend this disastrous conversation could be avoided. Through it all, her father never moved. Frozen in place.
Before Jaime could collect her courage, her mother returned. Somehow she had found a tray and four mugs.
“I didn’t even know I had those.” Jaime wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
Caroline gave her another quick squeeze. “I’ll sneak out of the way, but I’ll be praying.” She looked deep into Jaime’s eyes, her gaze sober and focused. “You can do this.”
Jaime nodded, then accepted a mug from her mom. The warmth didn’t seep into her fingers. She tugged a stool from the island and sank onto it and clutched the mug. Maybe her counselor had been right all those years ago. It would take supreme courage to confront her parents and let them into her pain.
She studied the green tea as if somewhere in the depths of the hot beverage she would find the words. “Uncle Dane molested me while Dad was in Iraq.” She pushed the words out as fast as she could. “I went to the Commonwealth’s Attorney this week, and they are pursuing criminal charges.”
The words gushed from her to fall in the space with a thud.
Her father set his mug down and stared at her the way he probably stared at the soldiers under his command. It was the same glare he’d turned on any young man who dared to ask her out while she lived at home. If only he’d understood then how unnecessary that had been—she’d been too scared to let any guy close in high school.
“Explain yourself.” Daddy’s words fell like weights, clanking against the laminate floor.
“It should be enough that I’m telling you.”
“I don’t understand.” The color had blanched from Mom’s face.
“There’s not much to explain. Every time you sent me to Dane’s, I dreaded bedtime and what happened in the dark.”
“She knows about this?” Dad launched to his feet, his volume escalating with each word as he pointed toward the bedroom door. “Your friend knows, but your parents are just finding out?”
“Caroline knows the edges. I’ve talked to the Commonwealth’s Attorney. Charges are filed, and Dane will be exposed.”
“Exposed?” The words thundered into the space. “What do you mean, Jaime?”
Jaime pressed her fingers against her closed eyes. “I refuse to let the truth hide in the shadows one moment more.
People need to know what he did to me before he harms someone else. I’ve wondered for years if I was the only one or if there are more, but I didn’t know how to find out. I still don’t, but I know I’ve remained silent too long.”
“But why didn’t you tell me?” Mom clenched her hands as if that would hold her together.
“I tried the best way I knew.”
“This is the first time I’ve heard these words. After twenty years?” The words were heavy and sad. “I’m sorry, Jaime, but I don’t understand.”
“He groomed me like I was some special pet.” The next words rushed out of her on a flood of tears. “And you didn’t stop him.”
Her mother looked devastated by the words, but Jaime couldn’t take them back because they were true.
Two hours later her dad looked like he was ready to go hunt down his brother and take revenge. Minimal color had returned to her mother’s cheeks.
“I don’t know what Dane will do.” Her father’s words sounded lost in the void of her pain. “You have to be careful, Jaime. There’s a lot at stake for him right now. Did you know he is up for a promotion?”
“I didn’t know when I made my decision and went to the CA.” Jaime rubbed her eyes. “I saw it in today’s paper.”
“What can we do, honey?”
“Nothing, Mom.” That would be the hardest for her mother, truly realizing that today there was nothing she could do to remove the pain.
Her mother shook her head. “There is always something.”
“Not this time.” Jaime wanted to lie down and put this horrible afternoon behind her.
“Yes.” Her mother stood and started collecting the empty mugs. “I can love you well in ways I didn’t before.” She hurried to the kitchen sink, and her shoulders slumped as she looked away. “I’m so sorry.”
Her whispered words barely reached Jaime, but she clutched them to herself like a bouquet of wilted flowers. They might be late, but they sat in the space between mother and daughter, waiting to be accepted. “I know.”
Her father stood and moved toward the front door. “I need to think about this.”
“I understand.” Jaime watched her parents leave, feeling the space between them that her confession had enlarged.
Delayed Justice Page 7
