by T. K. Leigh
“Masked ball?”
“Every year, the arts and humanities department hosted a masked ball for its outgoing seniors. It was tradition for all the professors and their spouses to attend, as well.”
“And what happened at this masked ball to cause things to change between you?”
“I wanted to do something nice for her before she graduated. She was fascinated with a historic home on campus that only faculty members had access to. I’d gotten the keys from the dean and took her to see it after the ball ended. She did have quite a bit to drink. In retrospect, that’s probably what made me brush off her overly amorous ovations toward me as we toured the house. Now, I will admit that, prior to this evening, Londyn had attempted to goad me into discussing topics I didn’t feel were appropriate, considering my position as a faculty member.”
I bark out a sarcastic laugh, the notion that Londyn was the one who preyed on Nick ridiculous. When three pairs of eyes fling to mine, I cover it up with a cough.
“I apologize,” I mutter, not wanting to do anything to jeopardize my ability to remain. “Got something stuck in my throat.”
“Like I was saying,” Nick continues, seemingly annoyed, “some of Ms. Bennett’s topics bordered on inappropriate. As such, I took the necessary precautions and alerted her advisor, the chair of her department, as well as the dean of the College of Humanities of the situation.”
“If I were to reach out to the dean, would he or she corroborate this?”
“I don’t see why not. It was standard protocol to document any conduct deemed inappropriate. As a newer professor, I was adamant about following protocol. I didn’t want to get fired and lose our health insurance for something that was not my fault. It’s my understanding they’re obligated to keep all administrative records for seven years, so they should still have it on file.”
“Was any disciplinary action taken in response to your complaints?”
“They weren’t complaints, per se. Just making them aware of the situation. I don’t know.” He blows out a breath. “I had this strange feeling in my gut about the reasons behind Londyn’s sudden desire to discuss my sex life. Couple that with the fact I’d noticed her lingering in the hallway outside my office. Then in the building where I held one of my lectures, which was across campus from the art department. Then again roaming the faculty parking lot. I just wanted to make sure it was documented in case things went awry.”
My jaw aches from being clenched so tightly. But I remain silent, even though it’s killing me. I have to hand it to Nick. He certainly weaves a compelling story. But this is nothing more than a massive fabrication.
“If Ms. Bennett had begun to act inappropriately around you, why go out of your way to take her to this historic house on campus?”
On a deep inhale, his expression morphs into one of feigned regret as he peers into the detective’s eyes. “I’ve asked myself that countless times since that night. I don’t have a good answer. It’s no excuse, but being hundreds of miles away from my wife and baby took its toll on me. Despite Ms. Bennett’s inappropriate behavior, I came to…depend on her for that connection. I regret it now, but back then, being able to talk to someone who understood what I was going through helped me durings those difficult times.”
“What happened between you and Ms. Bennett on the evening of the masked ball?”
“Earlier that night, Julia and I had received news of a setback in Imogene’s progress. I can’t remember what it was now. At the time, there were so many. Thankfully, Imogene is now as healthy as every other six-year-old girl, even if she’ll never be able to be an Olympic runner. But back then, it seemed we had to endure a constant cycle of one step forward, two steps back. So when Ms. Bennett kissed me… I don’t know.” He exhales deeply. “I knew it was wrong, knew I should push her away, but it felt so good to feel something other than the heartache of not knowing if my daughter would see another birthday.”
“Did anything else happen?”
He nods, squeezing his eyes shut for a protracted beat. When he finally returns his gaze to Detective Stocker, his expression is pained.
“I’d give anything to have a do-over of that night. But all I can do is move forward.”
“Did you have sex with Ms. Bennett that night?”
“Yes.”
“At any point, did Ms. Bennett say or do anything to indicate she didn’t want to have sex? Or had she revoked her consent?”
“Absolutely not,” he answers without a moment’s hesitation. “I would never touch a woman like that. She’d initiated things. If she’d told me to stop, I would have. I have a daughter. A wife I respect. I don’t rape women.”
“Was your wife aware of what transpired?”
“I told her the following morning. I’d regretted my actions immediately. All I could think was that my wife would leave me and forbid me to see my daughter again. I couldn’t stomach that. So I told her everything, preparing for the worst. But Julia… She’s such a graceful, benevolent woman. She found it in her heart to forgive me. In exchange, I swore to her that I’d come home once the semester was over and find a job in the Charleston area, even if it wasn’t teaching. And that’s precisely what I did. Stopped teaching and started working as a PR consultant instead.”
“Did you have any communication with Ms. Bennett afterward?”
“No. Those few weeks between the ball and graduation, I did everything to avoid her, which wasn’t difficult, considering it was finals. Once I submitted my final grades, I moved out of my apartment and returned to Charleston. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her until this past weekend.”
Detective Stocker scribbles on his pad. “Prior to that, were you aware she was dating your brother-in-law?”
He smiles shyly, a new look for him. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I had no idea. Sure, I’d heard Imogene, Julia, and Wes refer to her as Londyn, but it never crossed my mind.”
“Even after commenting on the sketch I did of her?” I mutter.
Nick shifts his pretentious eyes to mine. “If I recall correctly, I’d commented on that sketch after getting off a long flight from Europe. You’ll have to excuse me for not putting the pieces together in my jet-lagged state.” His words come out biting.
“Completely understandable.” Detective Stocker shoots daggers in my direction before looking back at Nick. “How did you react when you realized who your brother-in-law was dating?”
“To say I was shocked would be putting it mildly.”
“You said you’d told your wife about the affair. Did you tell her who you’d had an affair with?”
“Just that she was a student.”
“When you saw Ms. Bennett on Thursday evening, did you say anything to either your wife or brother-in-law about your previous relationship with her?”
“It was New Year’s Eve. I didn’t want to ruin their night by laying that on them. I decided I’d wait until the following day. Unfortunately, I never got the chance.” He brings his free hand to his bandaged shoulder.
“Let’s move on to what transpired at the bakery. Why were you there?”
“Julia was sleeping off a hangover, but I knew she wanted to go in to get some paperwork done.” He blows out a laugh. “The downfall of owning your own business. There’s no such thing as a day off. Since she was still sleeping, I took a drive to the bakery for her.”
“She was still sleeping at three in the afternoon?” I ask in disbelief.
“It was New Year’s Day.” He chuckles, leaning closer to Detective Stocker. “My wife can’t handle her liquor like she could during her younger years.”
“We all have to get old some time,” he retorts with a smile.
“But that’s not like Julia,” I protest, my arms crossed. “Even with her worst hangover, she tends to be up around six-thirty or seven. Says it’s her internal clock. The only time in recent history she’s slept like that was when she had a root canal and was drugged up afterward.”
“Well, she was a
sleep, Wes,” Nick answers, clearly annoyed. “Why would I lie about that?”
“You tell me.”
“Let’s get back to the bakery,” Detective Stocker suggests, ignoring my insinuations. “It was closed for business that day, correct?”
“Yes. Julia gives her employees all major holidays off, even if all the other restaurants and shops are open. Says it makes them more loyal and appreciative.”
“And do you have a set of keys?”
“I grabbed hers.”
“What entrance did you use?”
“The rear service door.”
“Did you lock it after you entered?”
“I assumed I’d be in and out in less than five minutes, so I didn’t see the point.”
“And where were you when Ms. Bennett arrived?”
“The bathroom. When I finished up, I returned to the kitchen to see her standing in the doorway of Julia’s office.”
“What happened next?”
“I’m just so relieved I was the one who was there, not Julia. If she were…” He trails off, biting his lower lip, laying it on thick.
I struggle to understand how this detective can actually believe this story. Shouldn’t he be trained to pick up when people aren’t being sincere? Even if I didn’t know Nick as well as I do, which isn’t that well, I’d still question his honesty. It all seems so over the top. So dramatic. So disingenuous.
“I’d hate to think what would have happened.” Nick returns his eyes to the detective. “She wouldn’t have been able to thwart her attack.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Londyn Bennett is not right in the head,” Nick replies quickly, his comment directed at me. Then he addresses Detective Stocker once more. “The night I slept with her, I’d told her it was a mistake. But she wouldn’t listen. Even begged me to leave my wife for her. So when she saw me again, she probably viewed it as her opportunity to finally have me to herself. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past the girl to have targeted Julia and Wes just to get back at me for my rejection.”
“Even nearly six years later?” Detective Stocker asks.
“In my experience, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Nick answers. “And I certainly scorned Ms. Bennett. But she was a mistake, one I haven’t made again. Since then, all my time and energy has been devoted to doing everything in my power to make my wife happy. And we’re exceedingly happy. I can’t allow anything to come between us again.”
“I understand.” He offers a compassionate smile. “I hate to ask for details, but I need to know the sequence of events that led to the shooting.”
Nick closes his eyes, covering his shoulder with his free hand, wincing, as if in pain. “It’s all still a blur.”
“Do you remember if she was holding the weapon when you returned to the office?”
I roll my eyes. I may not know much about the law and interrogating a witness, but that seems like a leading question if I ever heard one.
“Now that I think about it…” He opens his eyes. “She was. I’d never been so close to a gun before. I remember thinking that I couldn’t let this woman come between me and my family. That I couldn’t let Imogene grow up without a father. So I took a chance and knocked it out of her hand. She lunged for it. I lunged for her. There was a struggle for control, but we both ended up grabbing the weapon at the same time. Unfortunately, I didn’t have as firm a grip as I thought, and she shot me.” He pats his shoulder. “Good thing I showed some resistance, though. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“We all must thank God for this miracle then,” Detective Stocker says.
“We have every minute.” My mother clasps her hands together, looking upward, as if in prayer.
“At any time, did you threaten Ms. Bennett?” he asks. “Or sexually assault her?”
Nick’s mouth falls open, aghast. “Never. Not several years ago. And not now.”
“When Ms. Bennett was booked, she had visible bruises on her wrists, arms, and hip. She claims you gave them to her. Is that true?”
“Maybe. Like I said, we struggled for the gun. I lunged for her and tackled her to the floor. It’s possible I may have caused some bruising during our struggle. It wasn’t intentional. And it certainly wasn’t the result of any alleged sexual assault. I don’t harm women.”
The detective scribbles down a few additional notes in his pad before flipping it closed and standing. “This has all been extremely helpful. I’m sure you want to get some rest after what I imagine has been a rather difficult several days. I’ll finish my report tonight, then send it to the DA’s office. They may reach out to you if they have any additional questions or need clarification.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card, handing it to Nick. “In the meantime, if you think of anything else that could be helpful in the prosecution of this case, please let me know.”
“Thank you so much for all you’re doing to help keep my family safe,” my mother adds. “The Bradford family plans to make a large donation to the local Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund as a show of gratitude.”
“Or a bribe,” I cough, knowing all too well how my mother works.
She shoots me a glare before fixing her expression to the one she’s mastered throughout her life. Eyes interested. Smile soft, but not overly enthusiastic. Not a single hint of emotion on her face.
Brushing off my remark, the detective scans the room, avoiding my stare. “Thanks again for your time. I’ll show myself out.” With that, he turns, no one saying a word as we listen to his retreating footsteps, followed by the front door opening and closing.
“Well…,” my mother begins brightly, standing. “That went much better than I expected. I doubt that girl has a leg to stand on now.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Nick shifts his attention to me, smiling smugly.
“Bullshit,” I mutter under my breath, my lip curling in disgust when I see how proud they both seem to be with whatever just went on here.
“Do you honestly believe her lies?” he scoffs. “If that’s the case, you’re dumber than I thought. She’s nothing more than a liar. A thief. A troubled woman so desperate for attention she’d fabricate an outrageous story.”
For the past half-hour, I’ve kept my anger relatively in check, even when listening to Nick spread obvious lies about Londyn. But I can’t hold back anymore. Nick doesn’t deserve to be catered to. He deserves to suffer just like Londyn has suffered these past few days…hell, years.
My nostrils flare as heat washes over me, rage burning my veins. Not thinking and only reacting, I rush toward him, my feet moving of their own volition.
“That was bullshit, and you know it!” I roar as I wrap my hands around his throat.
Nick’s eyes widen, his arrogance replaced with a new expression. Unease. Trepidation. Fear.
“Is this all a goddamn joke to you? So help me God, if you’ve done the same thing to Julia, a bullet to the shoulder will be the least of your concerns.”
“Weston!” My mother shrieks, indignant, gliding across the room toward me. “What are you doing?” She attempts to pry my hands off Nick as he struggles below me, but she’s no match for my strength. “I didn’t raise you to act so…barbaric! All the more reason for you to get as far away from that woman as possible. Look at what she’s done to you!”
“Done to me?” I repeat, my wild eyes shooting toward hers, my entire body shaking with fury. “What she’s done to me? Do you want to know what she’s done to me?”
My jaw tightening, I peer down at Nick, his fingers clawing at my hands as he struggles to breathe, his face turning from red to purple. With one final squeeze, I release my hold on him, and he takes a gasping breath. I spin from him, pinning my mother with a hardened stare.
“That woman has done nothing but teach me something you couldn’t even fathom understanding. She’s taught me about grace. About forgiveness. About unconditional love. She did all that, despite listening to your hate-fil
led words. Despite all your friends turning up their noses at her. Because of her, I’m a better person. Because of her, I know what true love feels like. And true love includes standing by someone’s side when they’re at their lowest of lows. Which is exactly what I plan to do.”
I storm out of the den, needing to put as much distance between me and this woman as possible, the mere sight of her and Nick making my stomach churn.
“If I were you, I’d rethink your allegiance, Weston!” she calls out before I can disappear down the hallway. “If this is the path you choose, you could lose everything.”
I hesitate, then peer over my shoulder. “If I don’t choose this path, I’ll lose everything. That woman is everything to me. And she’s worth whatever price I have to pay.”
My mother crosses her arms in front of her chest. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”
Chapter Twelve
Londyn
Music blares through my AirPods as I apply another coat of paint to a dresser I plan to turn into a kitchen island. It’s been ages since I’ve spent any time in my garage, considering I’d moved most of my projects over to Gampy and Meemaw’s house, where Wes built me the workshop of my dreams. To be honest, my up-cycling business has been the last thing on my mind lately.
But today, I don’t feel as dejected and beaten down. I actually feel…optimistic. Not only because of Detective Trager’s promise to make sure my version of events is taken seriously, but also the reporter at Mrs. Bradford’s press conference asking about Nick’s assault. It gives me hope I’ll finally get justice. That someone will finally believe me.
“Ms. Bennett?”
I whirl around, surprised to find Detective Trager standing outside the open garage door. I remove my earbuds, clicking off the music on my phone.
“I’m sorry. How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long. Only a few seconds.” She smiles warmly. “What is all of this?” Her eyes float to the multiple pieces of furniture set along the perimeter of the overstuffed garage, all of them in various stages of repair, from being a piece of junk I found on the side of the road to being completely refinished and available for purchase.
