by Toby Neal
“You went for a run and to the gun range two days after an attack that should have put you in the hospital? I thought you’d be home in bed like any sane human.”
A long silence.
Lei looked out at the ocean. The sunset had faded and the moon trailed silver footprints over the ruffled water.
“This is going to be hard, if you won’t take a little bit of care of yourself,” he said.
“I’m fine. I need to get back on the horse, get back to work.”
“What you need to do is chill out. If you’re going to keep doing whatever you think of without caring about your safety ...it’s going to be hard.” He sat back, picked up his wineglass. “It already is hard.”
“I am who I am,” Lei said, in a small voice.
“Do you have any idea what it was like for me to ride in that ambulance with you, to see what he did to you, how close you came to being raped, even murdered? Disappear on me, fly to see your dad in prison...God knows what kind of characters he associates with...Run around town with all these injuries…”
Lei looked at her hands. She felt herself detaching, flying away, her vision dimming to a pinprick. She grabbed her arm above the cast, digging her nails in, trying to stay present.
He’s not going to hurt me, she told herself. No matter how angry he is, he won’t hurt me.
Her vision expanded. She breathed, slow breaths in and out. He was still saying something.
“It’s because I care. I know you’ve got issues, and just getting through this situation has taken all you’ve got—let alone worrying about how I’m dealing with it. I know that. But ...I can’t help it. I want you to remember me, too, and include me. I need you to, or this thing,” he said, gesturing between them, “isn’t going to last.”
“I’m just not used to having to include someone else.” Lei firmed her chin. “I don’t like you being mad at me, but sometimes I’m gonna do what I need to do—and I’m sure you’re going to be pissed off. But I’ll try to be more careful and keep you in the loop.”
“Okay, I said my piece.” He sighed, sat back. “Can’t help my caveman instincts, I want to kick the crap out of anyone who threatens my woman. Gotta remember she can do her own ass-kicking.” He raised his glass. “To you, Lei.”
Lei sipped uneasily, but he didn’t seem to be making fun of her. She reached across with her good hand to touch his. As usual the right words wouldn’t come.
“You know what?” His mouth turned up on one side, a rueful smile. “Can’t say I wasn’t warned.”
This time she was the one to take his hand.
“I’ll try to make it up to you.”
Stevens kissed her goodnight at the door when he dropped her off, insisting she go to bed early. She watched him drive away and remembered she’d forgotten the mail. She took the letters out, rifled through them—a few bills and the now-familiar plain white envelope with LEI TEXIERA on it.
“Impossible,” she said aloud, going up the dark stairs. “He’s dead.”
She ripped the envelope open. Her eyes scanning the street, she looked briefly down at the sheet of computer paper she’d unfolded.
This note was different.
She went up the porch and into the house, relocking and rearming the door. Keiki greeted her, whuffling and bumping with her head, but Lei ignored the dog. She flicked on the light, sat down at the little kitchen table and opened the folded paper.
Her own childhood face looked up at her—a photocopy of the school snapshot from third grade, the year she was nine. An aureole of curly hair framed an olive-skinned, lightly freckled face with tilted almond eyes and a too-wide smile. The note, all in caps, glared up at her from beneath.
YOU ARE DAMAGED GOODS AND ALWAYS WILL BE. SEE YOU SOON.
Lei barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. She clung to the toilet, heaving well past when anything was left, and then sat back, her head resting on the cool porcelain of the tub. She crawled over and locked the door, then curled up on the bath mat, clutching her abused ribs, rubbing her aching stomach, a keening in her throat echoed by Keiki’s whining outside the door.
Damaged Goods. That’s what he’d called her. D.G. for short. He had even called her that in front of her mother, telling Maylene it meant Dear Girl.
Memories roiled up, images that she had stuffed down past knowing. She’d remembered that first time, the struggle even though he’d doped her with cold medicine, and the pain of things never meant for someone so small. That blank space in her memory had kept her from knowing anything more until now. It all crashed back on her with the simple phrase he’d used as he used her.
She longed to escape to that other place, but this time it didn’t work. Like a broken film clip the memories ran. When she realized there was no way to stop him, she’d cooperated—and on some level she’d secretly liked the attention he gave her, the little presents, the protection from her mother...and when he left, she’d cried and missed him.
He’d said he loved her, and she believed it.
Damaged Goods. That was what she was. Shame and self-loathing swamped her and Lei retched some more, and went to bed.
Keiki barking, the deep bellow she reserved for intruders, penetrated the darkness of her dreams. She got out of bed and padded to the bathroom yelling, “Just a minute!”
Pale morning light did bad things to her complexion in the mirror and she couldn’t meet her own eyes as she splashed water on her face and rinsed out her mouth. She went to the front door, put her eye to the peephole.
Michael Stevens stood there. He was holding a bouquet of flowers.
She turned and ran back to the bathroom, stomach heaving as she fell to her knees. Keiki ran back and forth, confused and whimpering.
“Lei! What’s wrong?” She heard Stevens pounding on the door. She raised her head, yelled.
“Go away! I’m sick!”
The pounding stopped. She rested her head on the tub again, tears welling as she thought about Stevens, about the feelings she’d had before she knew what she really was.
Damaged Goods. That’s my name. My destiny.
“Lei? You sure you’re okay? Can I come in, help you or something?”
“No! Seriously, I’m just really sick. Please go away.”
Keiki was staring at the front door, her ears cocked in anticipation. She gave a little greeting bark, recognizing his voice. First time she’s ever done that, Lei thought, and it’ll be the last.
She heard his footsteps walk back and forth on the porch, and then her cell rang, buzzing on the side table where she’d dropped it.
“Lei pick up!” he called. “Let me talk to you.”
“No. Goddamn it, just go away, and let me be sick in peace!”
This heart-cry took the last of her strength, and she slammed the bathroom door and curled up on the mat, sobbing into a towel until no more tears came. It was just all too damn much.
She eventually got up, brushed her teeth, opened the bathroom door. The silence told her Stevens was gone. She knelt, gave Keiki a chest rub. She fed the dog and looked at the table. The unfolded paper seemed alive, a burning, pulsing wound. She put it in a Ziploc bag and stuck it in the freezer. She opened the front door to make sure Stevens was gone. The bouquet of flowers lay wilting on the welcome mat. She slammed the door, armed the house, and went to bed with a handful of Vicodin.
They’d been so sure Jeremy was the stalker! They’d found pictures of her on his phone—and her house at all hours of the day and night, as he tracked her routine. How he’d known about the bath thing she’d still wondered, and now she knew.
He wasn’t the only guy stalking her.
Chapter Forty-Three
Pono finally got her to open the door a day later. He held up the browning flowers.
“These yours?”
She snatched them out of his hand.
“You look like shit,” he said, following her into the kitchen.
“Thanks. I feel like shit.”
“So what’s up? Flu? Food poisoning?”
She stuffed the flowers into the overflowing trash can.
“I can’t see Stevens anymore.”
“That’s some flu you got.” Pono sat down, rubbed his lips thoughtfully with his finger. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?”
“Only if you swear not to tell Stevens and you promise to keep this confidential. It’s my case and I don’t want him on it anymore.”
“That’s going to be tough. Man deserves an explanation. He can tell something’s up, something worse than the flu.”
“I’ll deal with him—but you need to keep this confidential.” She dug in the freezer, pulled out the Ziploc bag. Took the letter out, unfolded it.
“Nice smile.” Pono sat forward. He touched the photo. “Who is this sick bastard? This the reason you have an alarm on your house and a Glock under your pillow?”
“The Glock’s where it should be—in the holster hanging on the headboard.” She took a deep breath, tapped the letter. “This sick bastard is Charlie Kwon. He was my mother’s boyfriend when I was nine. He raped and molested me for 6 months. He broke up with my mom and she overdosed. That’s when I went to live with Aunty Rosario.”
“He calls you damaged goods. Bullshit—if you were damaged it’s because he did it to you. No little kid signs on for that.”
“It’s complicated.” Lei picked at her cast. “What this has done is made me realize I’m not fit to be in a relationship. That and I’m probably gonna meet up with this guy and kill him sometime soon. It’s what I do. And frankly at this point I don’t care if I go to jail for it.”
“So do you think he’s the one who’s been stalking you?”
“I think there was Jeremy Ito. The notes, the panties—have been Charlie Kwon.”
“So you were being stalked by two guys at the same time.” Pono whistled. “Popular, you.”
“Yeah, popular. What’s wrong with me that I get all the sickos?”
“Stevens likes you.”
“He’s as sick as the others if he does. I’m messed up, damaged goods. Always have been.”
“Shut up. All I know is, you been a good partner.” He patted her shoulder.
Lei got a paper towel off the roll and honked her nose. “Thanks.”
“We got to tell the Lieutenant about this. We thought your case was closed when you took Ito down.”
Lei just shook her head, closing her eyes. Her brain didn’t seem to be functioning.
“Got a beer?” Pono asked. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.” She got up and uncapped two, set one in front of him and took a long pull off the other. He put the letter away in the bag and now he tucked it inside his jacket.
“Going to sign this into evidence,” he said, patting his pocket. “Need to lay the foundation for your defense in a future murder case.”
She wished she could smile at his ironic tone but couldn’t.
“I wish you didn’t have to—that I could just burn the damn thing,” Lei said.
“I’ll also put out a BOLO on him. Bet he’s using another name. Got a physical description?”
“I remember him as medium tall, wiry build, a good-looking mixed Chinese Filipino in his thirties. He had dark hair. Used to wear a goatee. He’d be fifteen years older now.”
“Do you want to work with a sketch artist?”
His pupils seemed to loom up in front of her, expanding into darkness as she tried to picture his face.
“No. Not now. See what you can find on him in the computer first.”
“Going to do a Temporary Restraining Order?”
“Would that keep me from assaulting him?”
“Works both ways,” Pono smiled a bit. “But it would establish the stalking as pre-existing harassment when we do catch him. Then you can press charges for the sexual abuse.”
“I don’t plan to do that. Too hard to prove and it would ruin my rep in the department. But I guess I better do the TRO.”
“I think you should press charges on the old stuff too. Think about it anyway. I’ll start the paperwork when I get back to the station.”
She nodded, sighed. “Do you miss me down there?”
“God, yes. That Jenkins is so ‘Fresh Off The Plane’ I can hardly stand being seen with him. Guy gets sunburned riding in the Crown Vic. I didn’t know that was possible.”
She laughed, more of a watery snort, took a sip of beer.
“You need to get back on the job,” Pono said, leaning forward. “Chase some taggers, bang some heads. You’ll feel better for it.”
“You’re probably right. Think the Lieutenant will let me come back early?”
“I’ve been following your case and it looks like it’s wrapping up, though there’s quite the media shitstorm because Ito was in the department. Just don’t watch the news, it’s better not to. Did you complete all the counseling?”
“No. Got two more sessions.” She dreaded telling Dr. Wilson about this latest development, the complicated horror of her Damaged Goods past. Maybe she could bluff her way through the sessions.... She flinched, remembering blue eyes that always saw too much.
“I’ll stop in the Lieutenant’s office tomorrow, tell him you’d be better off on-duty. It’d help if you call him and request it.”
“Will do.” She pushed a sealed envelope toward him. “Can you give this to Stevens?”
“No way.” Pono held his hands up, refusing to touch it. “You know the saying, ‘shoot the messenger’? Well, that man is armed.”
“Chicken.” She pulled the envelope back. “I thought you had the stones to hand a guy a Dear John letter.”
“I wouldn’t do that for my sister back in eighth grade, and I’m not going to do it for you. Do your own dirty work.” He stood up. “Okay. I’m taking this in and I’m going to try and get you back on active duty. I can’t take one more day with Jenkins, so don’t let me down.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She followed him outside to his huge lifted truck, pulled up on the sidewalk.
She took the mail out of the box. He waited silently to see if there was anything new while she flipped through the slim pile. Nothing. She waved him off and he hopped up into the truck. Lei didn’t feel safe even after she got back into the house.
Back in the kitchen, she cleared the beer bottles away into the recycling bag. Pono’s bottle cap had been left on the table. She picked it up, put it in her pocket. Sat down and took out her phone, speed-dialed Stevens. She put her hand in her pocket and played with the cap as his phone rang.
“Lei. How you feeling?”
“Better, thanks. Listen, I have something to tell you.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. Let me come over, we’ll talk in person.”
“No. This is fine. I need to just say it.” She took a deep breath, squeezed the bottle cap in her hand so the sharp crimped metal bit into her fingers. “I can’t be with you. This was a mistake.”
Silence.
“What’s going on?” His voice was soft, kind. Easy tears welled in her eyes and she squeezed the cap harder. She felt one of the tiny ridges break the skin and she welcomed the pain.
“Nothing. I’m just not ready to be in a relationship. This has all been too much and I need you to leave me alone.”
“Okay. I understand that.” His voice was cautious now. “We can take all the time you need. In fact, I was thinking we needed to go back to the beginning a bit—that’s why I brought flowers.”
The tears spilled down her cheeks. She held her breath so she wouldn’t sob, feeling blood welling into the palm clutching the bottle cap.
“No. No. I am just not right for you, Stevens. Leave me alone, I’m telling you. It’s over.”
She closed the phone with a snap, couldn’t help throwing it away from her even as she cried out in dismay. It skittered across the table and crashed to the floor in two pieces.
She took her hand out of her pocket, went to the sink. The bottle cap had
cut her palm. She held her hand under the sink, watching the blood well and disappear for a long moment. Then she took the bottle cap in the hand with the cast and dug it deliberately into the meat of her arm just below the elbow, dragging it downward.
The roar of pain washed over her, a burning that felt like absolution. She did it a few more times until all she could think about was the hot throbbing of her arm. She watched the blood trickle off her elbow into the sink, a hypnotizing watercolor of pinkening droplets as it melted into running water.
This crazy shit was the kind of thing you did when you were Damaged Goods.
The calm that follows pain came to her at last.
She blotted the cuts with a paper towel and striped them with antibiotic ointment in the bathroom, covered them with a band-aid. She also took care of the nasty bite on her collarbone, changing the bandage by looking in the mirror. She never once looked at her own eyes.
Lei changed into running clothes, went back into the kitchen and put the phone back together, anchoring the pieces with a strip of duct tape. Fortunately it still worked. She slipped the bottle cap into the pocket of her running shorts as she called the station and requested Lieutenant Ohale.
“Hey Lieutenant. Lei here. I’d like to request to come back on active duty.”
“Yeah, Pono came by to see me already.” She heard the creaking of his overworked office chair. “Good to hear from you. How’s the wrist?”
“Getting stronger every day,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “I did an hour of target practice yesterday and it held up fine.” She looked at the wrist, ignoring the dull ache it gave her back.
“So what about those counseling sessions? And I wanted you to have that extra post-trauma debriefing after the incident with Ito.”
“All done,” she lied. She knew Dr. Wilson had turned in the evaluation paper in good faith, and guilt stabbed her before she ruthlessly quashed it. She couldn’t afford to let the psychologist know what was going on. Her only chance to get back to normal was to get back to work and find Charlie Kwon herself.
“A few more days, okay? The investigation is wrapping up. When you do come back I want you to wear a sling. Last thing I need is some workmen’s comp claim years from now.”
