by Rachel Lee
She looked up abruptly. “I’m getting wound up. Sorry.”
He half smiled. “I like it. You’re passionate, and you worked in a victims unit. You know what you’re talking about.”
“Wanna hear about a truly infuriating case?”
“Sure.” His gaze encouraged her.
“Eleven-year-old girl. Stepfather molesting her. She finally has enough and calls her birth father. He called us. I was sent over there on my white steed to pick the child up. Totally believable. Child services believes her and puts her in her real dad’s custody. Then a couple of weeks later it comes before the DA. Down there we call them state’s attorneys.”
“Okay. I get the feeling this is not good.”
Kerri shook her head and closed her eyes. “My blood still boils. I believed the child. She was a wreck. The child welfare officer believed the child. The state attorney believed the child. No question. But no charge.”
“Why the hell not?” he demanded.
“No physical evidence—the man hadn’t gotten that far yet—and the SA believed a defense attorney could claim that it wasn’t unusual for a kid to hate her stepfather and make up stories.”
For the first time she heard him seriously swear.
“I know the attorney was right. How many of these cases had she handled? But that child got no justice and the man who had molested her walked away.”
“Oh for the love of God.” His fatigue seemed to have burned away as he pushed off the stool and started pacing her small living area. “And how many times did that little girl have to tell her story to strangers? It must have been as bad as what was actually happening.”
“I don’t doubt it.” The story still made her heart squeeze for that child. Worse, the girl hadn’t been the only one. She’d only been a cop for ten years, but she’d heard enough, seen enough, to have nightmares for many more years.
After a few minutes, Stu settled down and rejoined her at the bar.
“More coffee?” Kerri asked.
“I can get it, thanks.” He rounded the end of the bar and strode into her tiny kitchen. After he’d refilled his mug he came to stand facing her across the counter.
“I understand what the prosecutor was thinking,” he said. “I fully comprehend. Why put the child through more testimony, especially for a courtroom? Especially without physical evidence? He said, she said. The worst of situations. But I have to admit it infuriates me that anyone can get away with molesting a child. If I were the other parent, I’d be considering murder.”
She could see it in his eyes. He was capable of killing. But of course. He’d been a soldier. As for her, she’d never had to shoot her service pistol once on duty. “As is too often the case, the girl’s mother didn’t believe her. Not one bit.”
“Ah, hell.” He banged the side of his fist on the counter, but not very hard. “The people you need most, and one of them betrays you. I’ve heard about it. Especially about moms.”
“I suspect it’s awfully hard to believe that someone you’ve loved and trusted has betrayed you and your child that way.”
“No other reason for it.” He sighed, shaking his head as if driving back ugly thoughts. “I guess the same situation just extends for women right on up. Family don’t want to believe a kid about a father, stepfather, pastor, scout leader, whatever. Then when they get older, they’re scared into silence. Pretty bad.”
“I won’t deny that.”
He frowned again, the edges of his mouth tight. “But it makes me fume to think of these monsters getting away with it. Or that the guy who hurt the schoolteacher is sitting at home right now reliving his crime with pleasure. Enjoying every bit of the harm he inflicted.”
Kerri had worked with a bunch of men who didn’t understand the way Stu seemed to. They treated it as a crime, but too often as if it were all about sex, and as if it was no worse than a mugging. Not all men, of course, but too many, to her way of thinking. Not even sensitivity classes really helped. The many layers of rape continued to escape them.
He stared off into space for a while, then returned and came to sit beside her once again. The oven timer beeped and she went to pull out the eggplant.
“I have to let it stand for a bit before I cut it,” she said. “You big hungry or little hungry?”
That returned the smile to his face. “I seem to remember a doughnut or two sometime during the morning.”
“Then big hungry,” she decided, glad she had an ample quantity.
He opted for a beer instead of wine to accompany the meal. “If you go to Mahoney’s too often to play darts, you drink beer,” he remarked. “Imagine ordering a glass of wine in that place.”
She laughed quietly. “I can just see it.”
“I can just hear it. There’s a lot of that punch-a-shoulder kind of camaraderie.”
She’d been in enough cop bars to know what he was talking about. Put a bunch of guys together... “I guess you missed your darts last night,” she said. “I’m sorry. Did I keep you away from it?”
“If you did, all for the best. The way those nights go I stay up too late for the gab. Getting to bed early, considering the early wake-up call, was a good thing. Anyway, we all miss them at times because we’re on duty.”
There was that, she thought as she brought out her blue willow plates and served him a large portion of the eggplant. “More if you want it.”
He pointed to the plate. “I always loved this pattern. My grandmother had a set but left it to my aunt. I haven’t seen it since.”
“Where are you from?” she asked as she put out paper napkins and silverware.
“Upstate New York. I got used to winter early in life.”
That made her laugh. “Then I’m a hothouse flower?”
“I didn’t say that.” But he flashed a smile.
“Did something happen to your aunt? I ask because you said you haven’t seen the dishes.”
“I went into the Army, and when I came home I visited my mother but my aunt had moved away. She and my mother had some kind of troubles between them, but I don’t know what. Mom never talked about it. And my aunt never tried to get in touch with me. Which is all right, because I never saw her much when I was a kid.”
“But she got the china.”
He chuckled. “She got the blue willow. My mother got the Noritake. Make of it what you will. Anyway, Mom died four years ago from cancer and I have the Noritake. It’s in storage. What’s a bachelor going to do with all that fancy and expensive china? Beats me.”
“You’ll have someone to share it with someday,” she assured him. “Life tends to follow that path.”
“And you?” he asked.
“The usual number of parents. One difference, though. Both of mine were police officers.”
“Were?”
She nodded. “Grief never goes away, does it. It comes less often, but it never completely goes. They loved sailing. They set out one day for Bermuda and were never seen again. Not even any wreckage. Pirates? Maybe. Bad weather? Most likely.”
“That’s tough.”
“For me, yeah. For them?” She shrugged one shoulder. “Mom always said it was the best way to cut free and forget everything. Especially the job. That always sounded good to me, once I started working. To be so far away it couldn’t touch you anymore. I choose to think they were happy right till the end.”
“That’s a good way to think about it.”
They continued to eat in silence. Kerri felt she might have gone too far to make him comfortable, although he had mentioned his mother’s cancer. And glaringly unmentioned was a father. She decided she shouldn’t go there.
They finished eating and Stu helped her clean up and put away the leftovers.
But at last he said, “I really need to hit the sack. It’s been a long day.”
“Of course yo
u do. I was wondering how long you were going to make it.”
“Lucky I didn’t fall face-first into dinner. Depending on how things go, I’ll try to take you out to look at the appliances some evening this week.”
Then he was gone and she was alone with Snowy again. She turned on the TV for the sound more than anything and sat with Snowy beside her on the battered brown couch. He rested his head on her lap.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the teacher who’d been raped, though. She wanted to be out there, helping with the investigation, trying to bring that poor woman some justice. Even if the teacher fully recovered, how was she going to be able to go home until the man was caught? Fear would dog her steps until he was behind bars.
Some fear would follow her for years if not the rest of her life, but it would be close to terror until they put hands on the guy.
And she couldn’t help. Not in any way.
“It stinks, Snowy. It really stinks.”
He lifted his head to look at her before returning to his comfortable position.
Yeah, it stank all right. Her every instinct was crying out to get to work, to track this bastard. To do anything useful.
But here she sat, all because of a drunken jerk with a gun. She’d been telling herself for months that she was lucky he had a lousy aim, but sometimes it didn’t feel like it.
This was one of those times.
Chapter 6
The class Kerri taught encompassed one afternoon a week. Next semester, the dean had told her, she’d have a second one. It would certainly help keep her busier.
In the meantime, come Monday morning, she was at loose ends, having prepared her lesson well in advance. Taking herself in hand, she told Snowy they were going for a long walk.
He was with her to protect her from her illness, after all, and the urge to keep hiding except when she had to go out had reached borderline ridiculous. People were going to see her have seizures. Staying at home so much could cause a lot of problems.
Not to mention drive her crazy. She did not owe the rest of her life to a drunk with a gun. He’d taken his pound of flesh from her and was entitled to no more. She was just going to have to learn to live with it.
She had thought she was doing well when she took the job here. She thought she’d mastered herself when she walked out for groceries.
Hah! She was beginning to realize she was still at the baby steps stage. She’d been fiercely independent her entire life, sometimes to the point of frustrating her mother into fury. And, being a cop, her mother didn’t become infuriated easily.
She could still clearly picture her mom standing in front of her, wagging a finger and growling, “I’m not going to let you do that. It’s my job to see that you make it to eighteen alive!”
Well, she’d made it. So far. She wondered what her parents would think of her withdrawal now. She was sure they’d be concerned for her, but they’d also probably push her harder than she was pushing herself.
Oh, well. She looked at the temperature on the TV and went to get one of the winter shirts she’d bought to wear over her blouse. It would probably be sufficient. If the green chamois failed to keep her warm enough, she could always turn around.
Downstairs, outside, the breeze nipped at her cheeks. It smelled so different here. Was this the scent of the coming winter or was she just missing the distant smell of salt water and the ever-present humidity? No way to tell.
Despite it being a workday, more people were out and about. She met a lot of friendly smiles and greetings, and wished she could remember how to start a conversation without saying, “I’m Officer Addison and I wonder if I could have a word with you?”
Eventually, one woman of about forty stopped. “You’re the new teacher at the college, aren’t you?”
Kerri smiled and nodded. “Kerri Addison.”
“My son is in your criminal justice class. Or as he calls it, Crim Jus.”
Kerri tensed, wondering if her seizure would come up. But the woman was still smiling warmly. “I’m Jane Jessup. Scott loves your class. He says it’s great to have a teacher who’s actually done the job.”
“Oh! Scott. He’s a great student. Nice guy, too.” And he’d probably told his mother about Kerri’s in-class seizure. That gave her a twinge of discomfort she refused to give in to.
“I should hope so. I’d like to think we raised him right.” Jane Jessup laughed. “You never know for sure until they fly the nest.”
“Well, judging by the young man I see in class, I don’t think you need to worry about that. He seems to be serious about joining the police force.”
“So it appears.” Jane’s smile faded a bit. “I worry about that. It seems so dangerous.”
Kerri resisted the urge to touch the bullet scar on the side of her head. How was she supposed to answer that? “It’s not the most dangerous job in the world. Be glad he doesn’t want to be a lumberjack. Anyway, I can’t guarantee he’ll never face real danger, but if it’s any consolation I never had to draw my service weapon in my whole ten years on the force. If he gets good training, he can talk a lot of people down.”
Jane nodded. “You hear so much these days about SWAT being called, about officers being shot at a traffic stop.”
Kerri told the truth. “Honestly, traffic stops may be the most dangerous part of the job. Personally, I think we overuse SWAT, and there’s rarely an OK Corral situation. I’m not going to say it never happens because it can. But most cops make it to retirement in one piece.”
Jane’s smile broadened again. “That’s good to hear.” Then her smiled vanished and her expression grew grave. “Oh, say, you heard about what happened Saturday night?”
“The schoolteacher. Yes, I have. Do you have any idea how she’s getting on?”
Jane shook her head. “No word yet. It’s especially sad because she was one of Scott’s favorites in high school. In my book, anyone who could make Scott look forward to a math class has to be stellar.”
Kerri forced a laugh, wanting to lighten the moment. “Nobody’s favorite subject.”
“Not many of us, anyway.” Jane grimaced. “I hated it. Probably the only reason I’m not an astronaut.”
Kerri grinned again, enjoying Jane’s sense of humor.
Jane pulled out her cell phone. “Let me have your number. I’ll give you a call sometime and we can meet for coffee. I have a couple of other friends I think you’d like, too. I’m warning you, you can’t hang around this town without making friends.”
As Jane walked away, Kerri looked down at Snowy. “Maybe we should keep our eyes open. I doubt we’ll see anything the sheriff’s people overlooked but you never know.”
At least it gave her a small sense of purpose.
* * *
In his ramshackle house not too far from the college campus, but far enough away to be private, Ivan began to plot his next attack.
It almost shocked Ivan how fast the urge was coming over him again. It hadn’t been this way last year. Something had changed. One of the things that was different was the whispers he sometimes heard inside his head, pushing him. He dismissed them.
But the compulsion was there, and he reminded himself that it would take time to uncover his next target. He was also nervously aware that if he acted again any time soon, the police were bound to investigate more intensively. They wouldn’t be able to brush off two rapes as independent.
He cussed himself out, but the recent encounter had simply whetted his appetite for more. He could skip town any time he wanted to, clearing out before he could be discovered.
In the meantime, he broke one of his own rules about keeping a low profile. Maybe it was time to break out his bike and be seen riding around town. Become familiar.
Maybe a higher profile wouldn’t be so bad. It might even provide cover.
And maybe riding his bike would c
alm his urge a bit. It was too soon to act again. Too damn soon.
* * *
Stu didn’t quite catch up on his sleep, but close enough. The department had wound down a bit, mostly to regular duties with some extra help to continue pursuing evidence of the crime.
So far the techs, of which they had a few, had little to offer. The guy obviously had some sense. They couldn’t find any fresh prints that didn’t belong to the teacher. At least so far. They found a few fibers they were having checked out, especially ones that had been on her and on the bed. The blood, it appeared, was all hers. No hair that wasn’t bleached blond with dark roots, but they were checking it, anyway.
In short, a scene that was probably too clean to offer much. Now they awaited word about her wounds from the hospital and waited for her to fully awaken from her concussion. The doctors said she was borderline comatose, but when she woke she was extremely confused about everything. They waited in hope that she might remember something useful, although with that concussion she might not remember much at all. Which might be a blessing for her, but not helpful to them.
Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. Time to call it quits. He hated it when investigations seemed to have no leads, and so far this one had none.
Then he remembered his promise to Kerri. Leaning forward, he reached for the landline and punched in a number.
He made a call to the lumberyard, which had followed the national trend and added home improvement to its line of products. Les even had a separate section for the dinged and scratched appliances. It annoyed Les no end when merchandise had been roughly handled. He might have been able to make a claim for it, but with time he’d found a market that amply covered costs. All he had to do was check every piece out to make sure it operated properly. He even included a warranty.
He’d do well by Kerri. He also said he’d be there until after eight if they wanted to come by. That was one of the nice things about a small town with a tight customer base. Cheating would put you out of business. Adding an extra bit of service only bought you loyalty.
