Chapter 26 #2
With my wet hair soaking my robe, the chattering of my teeth pulses pain throughout my jaw. I quickly lose the robe and pull on the nearest sweater and shorts. When I look down at the pink sweater with the words ‘Dream Girl’ in white stitching, my face crumples in tears.
It’s the sweatshirt Dax made me buy at the mall.
My hand moves to tug on my bracelet, but it’s not there. A sob moans out of me, and my head falls between my knees. I don’t know how long I've sat in this position. Time is in a vacuum until noises return to the world outside this closet.
“Vanessa!” my father’s voice booms from the hallway. Urgency thunders in his footsteps as he races into my bedroom.
I squeak and fold my arms around me, remembering how it felt when The Scorpions walked past my bathroom.
“Vanessa?” Dad repeats, fear catching in his voice.
I open my mouth to make my presence known, but only a whimper comes out.
It’s enough. Dad nears the armoire. “Ness? Honey?”
I whimper again, and Dad opens the door.
He exhales with relief. “Oh, darling, thank God.” He lifts me out of the armoire, and I cling to him without the energy to stand on my own.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he coos, stroking my hair. “Oh, darling, you must’ve been so scared.”
“I’m… I’m okay.” My teeth chatter between the words. “They didn’t hurt me.”
Stress pinches his features. “They saw you?”
I quickly shake my head. “No. I saw them and hid.”
Dad breathes out with more relief. “Good girl. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
Dad walks me down to the first floor to join everyone else. He tells me everyone has been accounted for, even my masseuse.
I gasp. “Tonya was still here?”
Dad nods. “She was tied up with the others. An officer has driven her home.”
I gag, moaning with guilt.
He hushes me, rubbing my back. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
Dad brings me into the parlor where my mother and brother stand apart. Before my brother can move, my mother rampages at me.
“Why were you still home?” my mother shouts, towering over my slouched body. “You were supposed to be on your way to meet me.”
“Hilda!” Dad barks.
Mom shakes her fists. “If she had met me, she wouldn’t have been here when those monsters entered our home.”
Dad takes her wrist and slides an arm around Mom’s back. “I know. I hate that she was here too.”
Mom recoils from Dad’s touch and steps closer to me. “Just explain it to me. Why were you here?”
“I… I…” My eyes dart between my parents. “I wanted some time alone.”
Mom huffs, throwing her hands into the air. “And that’s it? You were alone?”
Dad’s tone lowers. “Why are you attacking her like she had something to do with this?”
“Because she knows I…”
“No,” Mom snaps, cutting me off. “I don’t know anything about this assault on our home. That’s why I’m asking for answers.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Ashworth,” Murphy says, entering the room with Sheriff Lennon. “The sheriff would like a word.”
Mom and Dad pace to meet the sheriff. I fall behind to keep within earshot. Ash moves away from the rear wall, his interest piqued.
“I wanted to let you know we’ve questioned the main players at The Scorpion Clubhouse,” Sheriff Lennon says. “The ringleader, Lance Malone, has an alibi. He was tending bar today and submitted security footage to prove it.”
“That means he sent people to work for him,” Dad responds. “Wasn’t that how his father operated?”
“And it took us a long time to get Vic Malone on any charges. He still hasn’t seen his day in court.”
Dad huffs. “So what does this mean, Sheriff?”
“We’ve hit a dead end.”
“Dead end?” Dad’s brow deeply furrows. “My staff saw their club jackets. It was them.”
“Right now, we suspect it wasn’t the Scorpion Motorcycle Club behind this,” Sheriff Lennon explains. “We think the culprits wore knock-off jackets as a cover.”
I try my best to keep my expression blank. I know it was The Scorpions because Dax was with them. But I can’t say anything. My heart won’t let me rat out Dax.
Mom laughs nervously, a hand hovering by her mouth. “No, that can’t be. It’s too ludicrous.”
“With all the main players accounted for, we are widening our scope,” Sheriff Lennon explains.
“They can’t just get away with this,” Dad demands. “They must have organized someone to do the dirty work for them. Surely all those Logan’s Point low-lives know each other.”
“We are still investigating their network,” Sheriff Lennon asserts. “Some lower-level players haven’t been accounted for, but they’re usually not linked to the crime aspect of the motorcycle club.”
Mom scoffs. “Isn’t their whole club just a front for crime?”
“I’ll personally interview more people of interest, Mrs. Ashworth,” Sheriff Lennon replies. “For instance, I don’t have a timeline for Lance Malone’s younger brother. I’ve had dealings with him in the past, and I believe he’ll be helpful to the investigation.”
“Helpful how?” Mom yelps. “By confessing?”
“I know this is distressing,” the sheriff says. “We will do everything in our power to bring your family justice. In the meantime, I’ll organize hourly patrols of your perimeter.”
Dad holds out his hand to the sheriff. “Thank you.”
When Sheriff Lennon shakes Dad’s hand, Mom turns away, smirking. “Patrols will be really helpful when the damage has already been done.”
Dad frowns. “Don’t mind my wife, Sheriff.”
Sheriff Lennon nods. “Not at all. This is quite an ordeal.”
When Murphy walks the sheriff out, Dad turns to me, his eyes lingering for a beat too long.
I flinch. “What?”
“Do you know anything about this?” Dad asks quietly.
I squirm. “What do you mean?”
“I told you to stay away from that boy. You did, didn’t you?”
Mom pivots around. “Are you interrogating our daughter?”
“I’m asking a simple question.”
“By insinuating she had prior knowledge of this robbery?”
“No, that she had prior dealings with someone involved.”
While putting an arm around me, Mom says to Dad, “Maybe it was in retaliation for you banning him from the property.”
“You can’t be serious, Hilda,” Dad chastises. “You want to turn this around on me because our daughter was fraternizing with a Scorpion?”
“He’s not like them,” I insist. “He wants to get away from The Scorpions.”
Mom shushes me, rubbing my arm briskly. “It’s okay, Vanessa. You don’t need to defend yourself.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” Dad asks Mom. “You understand what kind of havoc those thugs cause to our community. Our business.”
“I’m not calm, Tom,” Mom fires up. “I feel completely violated. These men came into our home and robbed us. I just don’t think it’s helpful to berate Vanessa for seeing a boy.”
Dad’s glare hardens. “You control every aspect of this girl’s life. Did you put a stop to the relationship?”
Mom pushes me back, stepping in front so I’m out of Dad’s view. “Vanessa doesn’t have to explain anything. This has been traumatizing enough.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Ash says flatly, watching us from the other side of the room. “Give her a break.”
Dad lifts his hands, stepping away. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed.”
Mom turns to me with a pacifying smile. “Now, just be quiet, Vanessa. There’s no need to get worked up.”
“Worked up?” I choke. “I’ve barely had a chance to speak.”
She brushes back my hair. “What are mothers for?”
How can she be worried about serving her own interests at a time like this? She’s never fought so hard to protect me before. She could’ve twisted this and ridiculed me for letting Dax into my life. She could’ve forced me to reveal every nook of the mansion I walked him through.
She knows this robbery can be traced back to me, but she’s hiding it. What good does she think will come from this?
“Sir,” Murphy says, pacing into the room. “Sheriff Lennon has set a perimeter around the estate.”
Dad sighs heavily. “Good, because obviously our old setup was abysmal.”
Murphy hangs his head. “Agreed, sir.”
“How did this happen?” Dad shouts, pounding his fist into his palm. “You’re in charge of security, Murphy. Explain to me how those thugs strolled into my home.”
Sorrow plagues Murphy’s features. “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t. They were in the building before I knew they’d entered the grounds.”
Dad’s nostrils flare, and his neck reddens. “Unacceptable. Murphy, your time here has ended.”
I gasp, wringing my hands together, my eyes darting between the two men.
Murphy nods in agreement. “I think that’s for the best, sir. Over the years, I’ve done everything to ensure the best care for your family. Today, I failed.”
Dad turns his back on Murphy, and when Murphy motions to make his exit, I react.
“Dad, no,” I blurt. “You can’t do this. It’s not Murphy’s fault.”
Both men turn to me, perplexed.
“I know it’s sad, Vanessa,” Dad says. “I don’t want to do this, but I have no choice.”
“No, this is wrong,” I urge. “Murphy didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Miss Ashworth, I appreciate this,” Murphy says, “but everything that happens on this property is my responsibility.”
“But it’s my fault!”
With everyone’s eyes boring into me, regret squirms inside me.
Dad tilts his head, scrutinizing me. “Why would you say something like that?”
Mom steps forward. “Yes, Vanessa, why would you say that?”
Sweat beads on my skin, and my chest rises and falls. I pan across all their faces and glimpse my brother in the back corner. His arms are folded and his eyes are steely.
“Vanessa.” There’s a tremble in Dad’s voice. “Explain yourself.”
“She’s obviously trying to save Murphy because she feels loyal to him,” Mom says in an attempt to brush this off.
Dad nods at me. “Is your mother right?”
I tremble as my warring parents stare me down. One wants the truth. The other wants me to suppress it. Jitters scatter within me, contracting and expanding my stomach. My head pounds as I gag on the words I so desperately want to say.
I push myself, forcing out the words, but gag again. Attempting to take a breath, I instead hunch over, retching as my stomach gives in to torture. I retch loudly, puking the contents onto the floor. It splashes onto my shoes while the last of it strings out of my mouth.
My mother moans, cupping her mouth and walking away.
Dad sighs, pulling me into his arms. “Murphy, please get a washcloth?”
Murphy’s already leaving in the right direction. “Right away, sir.”
Dad rubs a circle on my back as I groan and wipe my mouth with my sleeve.
“Look what happens when you get worked up,” Dad says softly. “I know you love Murphy. We all do. But this was a huge violation. I don’t want you making yourself sick over it. You’ve been through enough.”
I pant for breath, still hunched and doing my best not to smell the vomit on the floor.
Murphy returns with a washcloth, and a housekeeper follows with a mop. Dad takes the damp cloth from Murphy, and walks me away from the mess. We sit on a bench, and Dad tends to my face. The warmth of the washcloth is soothing, and my body relaxes into normal function.
I take a long breath in and out, gradually taking in the rest of the room. My mother is stretched out on an antique fainting couch, fanning her face as a housekeeper rubs her temples. My brother leaves her and moves over to me and Dad.
“Can I sit with her?” he asks Dad.
Dad smiles, standing and patting Ash’s shoulder.
When Ash takes a seat, he asks if I’m okay, and I reply with a slight nod.
“What are you keeping from our parents?” Ash whispers. “Or does Mom already know?”
I swallow hard, wincing. “Please, Ash, don’t push it. Did you not just see what I did all over the floor?”
“I know you wanted to spill your guts. Just with words instead.”
I moan, holding my middle.
“It’s your boyfriend, isn’t it? The guy you didn’t want me to tell Dad about. He’s from that gang, just like Dad said?”
“It’s not a gang,” I mumble at my lap.
“But he’s a bad dude?”
“No,” I whisper harshly. “He’s not bad.”
Ash’s eyebrow cocks. “He knows bad people?”
My mouth waters, and the jitters spasm in my stomach again. I press my hand into my gut and moan. “Shoosh, Ash. I can’t do this again.”
Ash gets up, and something scary flashes in his eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
I swallow hard and force myself to stand. “Don’t say anything.” It comes out desperate and strained as my knees knock together. “You don’t know the truth.”
Ash points at me. “Then you’d better come out with it, and fast.”
He turns toward the door, and there’s fury in his pace.
“Ash?” Dad calls. “Where are you going?”
“To check on Christie,” he mutters, leaving the room.
A weak breath escapes me, and I plonk back down on the bench.
“Are you okay, honey?” Dad asks.
I nod, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah.” I sigh. “Just exhausted.”
He smiles kindly. “Understandable. You should get some rest.”
Damp with sweat, my hair sticks to the sides of my face. I swallow something disgusting stuck in my throat, and peel myself off the bench.