2
“Does he know what I did?” I ask the boys as we drive into the Romano Terrace suburb where every house is painted cream, the rooves terracotta, and the lawns immaculate, and they have a view of the lake. This is a suburb where the upper-middle-class residents are never home because they’re too busy working to pay their mortgage.
“Of course, he knows,” Cormac replies. “It was him that suggested it.”
My mouth gapes in horror. “He knows? How much does he know?”
“I messaged him updates as I followed you this morning because I knew you were on the kill,” Blake says smoothly.
I growl under my breath as the stress of the bind I’ve got myself in is causing havoc on my nerves, and I have the urge to drink, even this early in the morning. But I’ll abstain because I need a clear head for the next stage of this strange day.
Cormac turns into a drive of a two-story house, and I can see a sliver of the blue lake behind, and my heart soars for the water. Silver-haired Gabe opens the door as we walk toward the front door, and my heart lurches at the sight of him.
“I’ve put the coffee on,” he states calmly as I avoid his eye because I fear he’ll be disappointed in me.
He takes my bag stuffed with clothes and underwear and leans forward to kiss my cheek. I tense at his touch and inhale his delicious, woody scent. The boys follow in behind me as if they’ve been a hundred times before as I drink in the private world of Gabe Bernardi, the man I’ve crushed on over two years and envisioned what his house would look like, and I find myself completely uninspired. Perhaps he's missing a good woman in his life.
“How do you like your coffee, Rae?” he asks, placing my bag on the floor by the stairs while I follow the boys into the kitchen.
“Black with cream,” I reply, and he frowns in amusement.
“Latte it is, then,” he says, rubbing his hands together, then switches on the fancy coffee machine. “Blake?”
“I’ll take a latte, too,” Blake replies, pulling out a chair at the round dining table for me to sit.
Cormac opens the refrigerator and takes out eggs, sausage, and bacon. “Anyone feel like breakfast?”
“No, thanks,” I reply as Blake states he’s already eaten.
When my latte is made and placed before me., Gabe takes the opposite chair while Cormac cooks his breakfast, and Blake leans against the wall behind me.
“Have you got the photograph?” he asks Blake and takes out his phone from his pocket to show him the pic of my rape that he snapped on his phone. Gabe inspects it closely as shame floods my cheeks, and all I want to do is escape this madness. “Have you got the original?”
“Rae’s got it in her bag,” Blake replies.
“Can you get it, Rae?” he asks me firmly, and I obey in silence, retrieving it for him.
He looks at the scene closely, and I’m sure a detective who works for the Sex Crimes Unit would’ve seen plenty of awful images like this before. But it still doesn’t stop me from the shame of being laid bare and reliving it all again.
After he studies the photograph, he places it face down on the table and lifts his eyes directly at me. “I always had a hunch that you knew who the men were that sexually assaulted you.”
“I don’t remember the person holding the camera,” I confess, “but yes, the men were all associates of Lyons.”
Gabe watches me closely as I talk, and like his son, his facial expression gives nothing away. “What are their names?” he asks.
“I don’t…know if...;” I shake my head, deciphering whether it’s a good idea to tell him. The faces of the men are not clear in the photograph, and one of them is not well-known, whereas the other three are successful in their careers. So, they may be unable to identify them just by looking at the photo alone. “Why?”
Gabe sips his coffee, then laces his fingers together, taking his time to answer. “Thought I might pay them a visit.”
“And do what? Arrest them?” I ask.
“Maybe,” he replies. “They got away with a crime.”
“They threatened to kill my family if I told you,” I confess and sigh as if a weight just expelled from my shoulders.
He nods in understanding. “I figured that. It was obvious that you were trying to protect someone. There were moments back then when you were in the hospital where you could tell it was on the tip of your tongue to tell me, but something kept stopping you.” He exhales. “And now we know. Now we have the faces of the men, and you have their names.” He starts tapping his wedding ring finger on the table. “Is the plan, Rae, to kill them all?”
I lick my lip as my mouth is desert dry, and even though I can quench my thirst with the coffee in front of me, I’m too shaky to lift the cup to my mouth. “Yes,” I sigh, glancing at the faces of the men watching me and wondering what will happen next; now, I have shared my deepest, darkest secrets. “Are you disappointed in me?” I always wanted Gabe to like me more than just a victim of a crime he was investigating. At times, I hated the way he looked at me with sympathy in his eyes. Because I so desperately wanted to be normal and whole, not a girl so broke and bruised that I couldn’t stand to be touched for months afterward.
“Admittedly,” he begins, and I brace myself for his brutally honest answer, “I’m disappointed that you couldn’t come to me when you returned to town. But, ah, Lyons the Coach,” he shrugs his shoulders, “won’t be missed by many, I suspect.”
“Really?” I’m surprised, and Cormac nods in agreement. “But he’s a highly acclaimed, most successful swim coach ever. I’m exaggerating slightly, but you know what I mean.”
Cormac shakes his head. “We’ll survive without him, and I'm sure the female swimmers will celebrate quietly. But we’ll have to go through the humdrum of pretending to be upset and attend his funeral with a coffin draped in the American flag and get riled up that his killer hadn’t been caught blah de blah.”
“It’s a good thing you can act,” Blake chuckles under his breath, and his expression quickly turns solemn. “You know the media and police are going to scramble over this like wasps in a honey jar, so you need to get your stories straight.”
“I doubt Rae would be a suspect,” Cormac states as his bacon and eggs sizzle in the hot pan. “Because no one knows what he did to her.” His eyebrows lower over his eyes as he doubts his own words. “Do they? Is there anyone who knows what he did to you?’
I shake my head. “Just the people in this room. I mean…my family and friends know that I was viciously attacked, but I kept much of the details to myself. They don’t know who…” I swallow over the lump in my throat when the face of the Pig enters my mind. He’s next on my list as long as these men don’t destroy my plan. “So, you’re not going to arrest me?”
Gabe scoffed. “I should, since you just openly confessed to witnesses, but I won’t.”
“Why?” I ask curiously.
“Let’s just say I have my reasons,” he replies flatly.
“And you’re not going to share them with me?” I ask, knowing what the answer is.
“No,” his answer is blunt. He takes his time to sip his frothy coffee. “Drink up, Rae. We’re going to take you to college. It’s important to go on with your life as if nothing happened.”
“That was my plan, too,” I state smugly, pointing at the handsome faces of Blake and Cormac. “Until… these two came along.”
“I’ll repeat,” Blake hits, “if it weren’t for me protecting your back, you would’ve had a witness to your crime.”
I hadn’t noticed anyone following me, which may be the problem, but I saw a passing vehicle. Maybe that was Blake. Gosh, I need to get better at this.
Gabe finishes off his coffee and pushes his chair back. “I have to head to work,” he says, patting his pant pockets to find something, then spots what he’s looking for on the kitchen bench – his phone next to a gun belt, complete with gun, that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Yeah, I better head to class,” Cormac adds, stuffing his face with crispy bacon. “Do you need a lift, Rae?”
“Um…” My head is full of thoughts, and I’m a little disoriented about what time it is and what my class and work schedule are.
“I’ll take her,” Blake answers for me. “She needs to finish her coffee, and I need to have a little chat with her.”
“Cool,” Cormac agrees, leaving us alone as I sip the frothy coffee and hum at the flavor.
“That hit the spot,” I say as Blake takes Gabe’s chair and leans forward with his forearms resting on the table, watching me with those friendly, warm eyes. “Spit it out.”
“Huh?” he beams, running those eyes over my froth-covered lips. “Spit what out?”
“The thing you want to say to me,” I snipe at him. “It’s on the tip of your tongue.”
He pushes his tongue inside his cheek as he deliberates, still watching me devour the coffee that is like a spa to my soul. “Alright,” he clears his throat to make a big fuss. “How did it feel?”
“How did what feel?” as if I didn’t already know.
“To kill the man that hurt you bad two years ago,” he adds, the smile fading from his face replaced with a shadow spiced with anger.
I watch the froth dissolve in my cup as I ponder the feelings I’ve stuffed down for some time. “I have mixed feelings.” He waits for me to expand, and I do my best to explain. “Death solves one problem but creates others.” I’m still shaky from shooting and wrap my hands around the warm cup to soothe my skin. “But…I’m not satisfied, and I won’t be satisfied until every man in that photograph and the man holding the camera has paid for what he did.”
He nods in understanding. “Alright. Thanks for your honesty.”
“There’s nothing you or them can do to stop me either,” I add for reference.
He shows me his palms like he’s surrendering. “I wouldn’t dare stop you, but…ah, you need help.”
“No, I don’t,” I argue.
“Yeah, you do, and it’s not your choice anymore. Now that we know what your plans are,” he croons, cocking his eyebrows. “We wouldn’t want you to stuff up like you almost did this morning.”
“I think you’re exaggerating to make it seem like I can’t do this without you,” I conclude to make me feel better about it.
“Murder comes at a price, sweetheart,” he insists, “and I’m not letting you do this without us.”
“Are you saying I don’t have a choice?” I ask, licking the froth off my bottom lip as those eyes of his drink me up.
“That’s right, pretty lady, so you better get used to it. And…ah, where did you shoot him, if you don’t mind me asking?” he’s far too polite for his own words. I guess that’s part of the character of a thief who charms old ladies out of their hard-earned money, although he has never given me a clear definition of what exactly he steals.
I point to my temple. “His head kinda rolled about a bit, and I thought he was still alive, but the gunshot sound would’ve alerted some people living nearby, so I thought it a good idea to hit the ground running.”
“But he’s dead?” he turns stern. “You’re one hundred percent sure you killed him?”
“He better be,” I reply.
“Did you check his vitals?” he asks as my nerves bounce about making me feel sick.
“No, I did not want to touch him, but his head flopped forward, and blood flowed, and I did not want to prolong the exercise by trying to feel for a pulse,” is the excuse I’m giving him when the real reason was that I was terrified that if I put my hand in the car, he’ll grab me. I was shaking and in shock, and I needed to hit the pavement and flee the scene.
“Alright, okay,” he nods slowly, unconvinced. “I’m sure Gabe will ask a couple of the officers on the case how much they know, and then we’ll go from there.”
“And do what?” I ask, my stomach swirling with giddy nerves. Reality is hitting hard, and I don’t like it.
“I don’t know,” he says vaguely, shrugging those shoulders causally. “Whatever needs to be done. Now, hurry and drink up so I can take you to class…” he checks the time on his phone, “because I have some errands to run, including discreetly cruising by your crime scene.”
“I bet you’ve seen plenty of crime scenes in your lifetime,” I mock about his career as a thief as he rises to his feet, swiping on his phone.
“You have no idea, little lady,” he crows, never taking what I say personally and mostly jovial unless the subject is important and serious. “C’mon, now, let’s get moving.”