Chapter Four
“Stay here.”
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“To check things out.”
She bit her bottom lip, grimacing when she felt the split caused by the blow she’d taken earlier. The whole kitchen had been turned upside down. Drawers were open with everything flung all over the floor. Paper towels were lying all over the countertops. Soap stuck to the paper making a huge mess in little globby piles. Her refrigerator door lay open with eggs splattered on the floor, and the meat she’d taken out yesterday for dinner this evening lay in a puddle of blood. “Who would do this?” she whispered to herself as she began to clean up the mess.
A noise in the living room startled her as she turned toward the dining room. Was it Brock or was the intruder still in the house?
Her gaze caught on the large mirror on the wall across from her. Someone had scrawled a message in what appeared to be whipped cream across the surface.
She moved closer so she could take it all in.
July 21, 1987
“What the hell?” July 21, 1987. That date was forever etched in her mind. It was the date of the one and only time she’d made love with Brock up until yesterday. Who would know that date though? As far as she knew, only she and Brock were aware of what happened that summer night.
She touched the edge of the writing with her fingertips, intending to smear the message away.
Brock came around the corner of the hallway and stopped next to her. “I didn’t see this before. A date?”
“Yeah.”
When she turned to look at his face to see if he realized the significance of it, she could see the confusion in his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I wonder why anyone would put that up there.”
“I don’t know.” She couldn’t tell if he remembered or not. The date meant a lot her. Every time a relationship since had gone south, she took out that memory and held it close to her heart. He’d been so loving and caring through the whole ordeal, she’d almost forgotten how awkward and painful it had been for her. Sex for a woman the first time wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns as it was made out to be. It fucking hurt!
“That date shouldn’t mean anything to anyone.”
“No, except for us.”
“The date we first had sex.”
Wow. This is weird. “Yes, but how would anyone else know about it? I never told anyone.”
“I didn’t either.”
“You didn’t brag all over town about taking my virginity?”
A look of indignation crossed his face as he put his hands on his hips. “No. I’m not that big of a jerk, Libby. Besides, I didn’t have much of a chance to do anything. Two weeks after that is when I was in the local jail while they investigated the murder of that woman.”
“I never said you were a jerk.” She grabbed a new roll of paper towels from under the sink and began to clean up the mess. “I take it you didn’t find anyone in the house.”
“No, but they left calling cards like the one on the mirror, all over. I hope you weren’t too attached to your panties and bras.”
“Why? What the hell did they do?”
“It appears they cut most everything considered intimate apparel.”
She gasped before running around him to go into her bedroom. This she needed to see.
As she got to the door, she moved woodenly inside, taking in the disaster her bedroom was. Her mattress had been sliced open with what appeared to be a knife, the springs showing through the gashes in the material. Someone had torn her drawers out of the dresser, smashed them into hundreds of pieces, and scattered her clothes around the room. She walked slowly to the pile of clothing lying nearby and picked up one of her favorite pair of underwear. Red lace lay in tatters.
Unable to control her feelings any longer, a sob broke from her lips as she sank to the floor cradling her torn underwear to her chest.
A pair of strong arms came around her, pulling her into his embrace as she sobbed harder.
“Shh. It’ll be okay.”
“Why? This is so stupid! I’ve never hurt anyone in this town so why do they come in here, break my things, tear up my stuff, and try to make me afraid?”
“I don’t know, honey. I wish I did.”
She pulled back in his arms and looked up into his face as she swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Well, I’m not afraid. Tomorrow, I’m going to Shipley’s to buy a gun. They will not make me scared to be in my own home. And then, I’m going to buy me a dog, a big dog, one who will love me, but chew them up and spit them out like yesterday’s garbage.”
“Are you sure you should do that?”
“Yes, I’m very sure.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why? You don’t look so convinced.”
“For one, I’m a felon, and I can’t be around guns, not even in someone else’s home.”
She looked down, eyes level with his chest and the bulging muscles of his torso. He looked good enough to eat. Now is not the time! “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that. Okay, a big dog it is. We can go looking for one in the next day or so. The clinic will be closed day after tomorrow. We can go the animal shelter and pick a surrendered animal from there. I don’t care if I have a purebred dog. They aren’t any better than one from the shelter.”
“I think you should have a dog. You’re a vet. I think it’s weird that you don’t have an animal of your own, actually.”
“I’ve thought about it a hundred times, but I’m not always home. I hate leaving an animal inside all day to only spend a few hours with it in the evening when I get home.” She glanced up at his face. “Maybe if I put in a doggie door, he or she could go in and out anytime they wanted.”
“That wouldn’t be very secure for the house though.”
A sigh escaped her lips. “Yeah.” She peeled herself from his embrace and climbed to her feet. “I need to call the sheriff. I doubt he’ll do anything. He’s about worthless, but it still needs to be reported.”
“Good idea.”
She went back out into the dining room, retrieved the phone from the table near the couch, and dialed the police.
“Sheriff’s office. What can I do for you?”
“I need to report a break in.”
“The address?”
She gave them her street and house number, told them an abbreviated version of what she’d found, and they said they would send someone right out. Once she’d completed the call, she returned the receiver to the cradle and turned to face Brock. “Now we wait.”
Ninety minutes later, she shut the door behind the officer as he walked out. The pink copy of the report in her hand did nothing to assuage her fear. The police department in Bard was a joke. Everyone knew that. Most of those who worked there were good friends of the sheriff, and he never amounted to much of anything. This is why she didn’t report the mugging earlier. She knew who it was, and she knew nothing would be done.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she turned toward Brock who straddled one of her dining room chairs, his hands dangling over the back as he looked up at her.
“You okay?”
“I guess.” She shook her head. “I should clean up that mess in there.”
He wrapped her in his arms for a moment, hugging her like he wanted to help put the pieces back together. His heart pounded beneath her cheek as she rested against him, basking in his strength to help hold everything inside. He was her rock in a stormy sea. “You need to put some ice on your cheek where that guy hit you earlier. It’s pretty swollen.”
She touched her fingertips to the spot and grimaced. “Yeah, I should, but right now, I need to clean up this mess.”
The mess needed to be cleaned up, and it wouldn’t get done without her doing it. After she stepped back, she turned to walk back down the hall to her bedroom. Everything was still strung all over and it would take a bit to clean it up. She began picking up her mangled clothing, laying it on the mattress until she could get a bag to put it in. Shopping would have to be done to replace everything. She didn’t even know if she had a pair of underwear for tomorrow.
A few moments later, Brock came through the door with a black trash bag. She’d been so absorbed in her misery she hadn’t even heard him leave the room. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
One by one, she stuffed her things into the bag aware that Brock watched her from a few feet away. Confusion marred his face, it was apparent he didn’t know what to do.
“You should have reported the mugging to the deputy while he was here.”
She glanced his way before going back to her task. “I know, but it wouldn’t do any good. It would have been buried in bureaucratic red tape with nothing being done so what’s the point.”
“Because, if someday the cover-ups going on within the police department are brought to light, they can look back into these incidents too.”
“And do what, Brock? Without someone higher up to take the whole department on and shine a spotlight on the corruption, things will fade into the darkness again. It will take someone with a lot of power, stupidity, or a little of both to bring the police department down in this town, and I’m not sure there is anyone around who will.”
After a moment or two, he began picking up some of the pieces of the dresser drawers from the floor, piling them neatly near the wall.
They worked in silence to restore the room to some semblance of order.
When they finally got most of the mess cleaned up, she said, “I guess I’ll have to cut out early from work tomorrow so I can go mattress shopping.”
“You need to find out why your alarm didn’t trip. What good is it if anyone can get into the house while you aren’t here?”
“I know.” She grabbed the trash bag and started out the doorway with him on her heels. “That was kind of weird. I disarmed it when we got here so whoever was inside before had to have the code.”
“Can you reset it?” he asked as they rounded the corner of the hall and walked toward the kitchen.
“Yes.” She set the bag on the floor so she could retrieve some glass cleaner and paper towels to wipe down the mirror. While she worked on cleaning off the shaving cream, or whatever they used, she tried to think of the significance of the date. To the two of them, yes, it meant something, but why would anyone else put it up there? How would they know about that night, anyway?
“What’s wrong?”
She shrugged her shoulders as she continued to wipe. “I’m trying to figure out why anyone would put this up here. It shouldn’t mean anything to anyone but us.”
“I don’t know either.”
“Of course I have to wonder why they would cut up my clothes and tear up my bedroom like they did.”
“To scare you would be my guess.”
She turned to face him, taking in the way he stood with his hands in his front pockets like he was afraid to touch her, and how his shoulders seemed to make the room feel really small. “But why? What would make someone want to scare me, and for what purpose?”
“I wish I knew, darlin’. It doesn’t make sense to me either, but we need to be careful. I get the impression this wasn’t a random act.”
“Why would you say that?”
He rocked back on his heels as he looked everywhere but at her. “I did some digging today. I went to the library and pulled up old newspaper clippings about the murder. There was a lot of good information there on how the body was discovered, who they interviewed, what evidence they had, and how they arrested me.”
“Do you think that has anything to do with this?”
“It might. Seems too coincidental that your house gets ransacked the same day I start digging.”
“Why would the date on the mirror be significant?”
“Maybe whoever it is wants you to know that they are watching you, and they know about us.”
“Is there an us?”
“I think so, at least for now.”
She grunted as she turned back toward the mirror and continued wiping at the streaks left. His reflection was there as she cleaned, so she could watch him as she tried to figure out what ‘for now’ meant. Her attraction to him had never wavered over the years. It has always been there in her dreams and fantasies. Would he hit the road now that they’d had sex? Maybe. He was still there for the moment. “I don’t scare easily.”
“You need to be cautious though. Who knows what they are up to or even who they are.”
After she finished the mirror, she turned back toward him as she laid the cleaner and paper towels on the dining room table. “You know, if you don’t want to be around me, it’s fine. We can go our separate ways if that is what you want.”
His movements reminded her of a cat, a big cat, like a panther or mountain lion as he walked toward her. He shoved both of his hands into her hair, holding her head in place. His eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared slightly. His lips were close, too close. The warmth of his breath on her face sent shivers down her spine.
“If you want me to leave, tell me. Otherwise, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, Libby. You are the only person who sees me as I was before, not the convict who spent time in prison. Everyone else in this town takes steps to avoid me like I have the plague. Yes, I was hardened by the time I spent there. I don’t think I’m the right person for you either, but I can’t stay away. You are like a sickness inside me and the only cure is being with you.”
His voice had dropped to a whisper with the last few words. He needed her. That realization made her heart sing. “Brock.”
Their lips touched, a small brush promising something more.
Bang, bang, bang!
They jumped apart as if they had been doing something they shouldn’t. “What the hell?” She moved toward the front door where the banging had come from.
“Libby!”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Who is that?”
“Lee.”
* * * *
“Your brother?”
“Yeah.”
Lee pounded on the door again, yelling her name. “Libby!”
She reached for the door handle, her hands shaking as she touched it. He wasn’t about to let her face this alone since it sounded like her brother was drunk or something. “Let me.”
When he opened the door, he wasn’t prepared for the sight in front of him. His former best friend looked like hell. His hair was long, stringy, and dirty. His eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes were filthy. He hadn’t shaved in days apparently, since he had a fairly heavy growth of whiskers on his cheeks and chin. A t-shirt stretched across his chest, showing several holes in the material. The jeans on his legs were tattered as well.
Lee blinked several times and leaned closer. “Brock?”
“What do you want, Lee?”
“Holy hell, it is you.” The awe in his voice was clear. “What are you doing here at Libby’s?”
“None of your business.”
Lee stumbled through the doorway, passed him, and into the living room before he could stop him. “Where’s my sister?”
“I’m right here, Lee. What do you want?”
Lee turned back toward him as he shut the front door. He was prepared to pick her brother up by his filthy shirt and toss him out on his ear if things got out of hand. For now, he’d wait and watch.
“When did you get out?”
“A few days ago.”
“Fuck man. You’ve been gone a long time.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Lee swayed on his feet before steadying himself by holding onto the back of the recliner nearby. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
Her brother turned back toward her. “Libs, I need money. Not a lot. Just a few hundred bucks would tide me over.”
“I’m not giving it to you, Lee.”
“But I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“What happened to the place you were staying?”
“I got kicked out.”
“Why? Isn’t it a halfway house?”
“It is, but they didn’t understand.”
“Understand?”
“Yeah.”
“You needed a fix, and they found out.”
Lee dropped his gaze to the floor. “Yeah.”
What the hell is going on? A fix? What is Lee into?
“My God, Lee. You’ve been in rehab. You were doing better.”
“I know, Libby, but I couldn’t handle it. I had to. My control was gone.”
“What happened?”
“I’ve been clean for a month.”
“I know. Tell me.”
He sank down on the floor on his knees as a choking sob broke from his lips. “I’m sorry. I was doing so good and then I ran into someone.”
“Who?”
“Melissa.”
Libby sat down on the floor next to her brother and cradled him in her arms. He sobbed like a broken little boy, mumbling something Brock couldn’t understand. Apparently, Libby did though. She stroked his hair, rocking him like a lost child as she murmured soothing words.
Brock had never seen this side of them. It hurt him to know his best friend apparently was into something really bad, but it tore his heart out to see Libby have to be the strong one. How long had this been going on? Lee had been straight as an arrow when they were in school. He’d been headed to college when Brock had been arrested and sent to prison. Now he was a shattered shell of the man he’d been before. Brock didn’t know Melissa. What he gathered from the little bit he’d seen and heard, it was someone who Lee had a history with and someone he couldn’t quite come to terms about not having now.
“What happened, Lee?” she asked, pushing him back before wiping at his cheeks with her fingers.
Lee shuttered as he looked at his sister’s face. “I was coming out of the feed store last week. I’d managed to get a job there stocking shelves when the big orders came in.”
“That’s fantastic, Lee.”
“Yeah, well, they found about my binge and fired me yesterday.”
“Okay. What happened with Melissa?”
He sighed and closed his eyes. “I had just gotten off work and was headed back to the house when I literally ran into her on the street. I almost knocked her down.” He rubbed his bloodshot eyes before looking at Libby again. “She looked at me and then stepped back. She was surprised it was me, I guess.”
“Then what did she do?”
“She said, ‘oh, Lee’ before she turned and walked away.”
“Nothing else?”
“No, but God, Libby, she looked so sad like she didn’t want to know me or like she wished she’d never met me. I loved her. She was my everything.”
“I know.”
“I was going to marry her,” he whispered. “We were supposed to be happy.”
“Why did you go out and shoot up? Why didn’t you come find me? I could have helped you.”
“Because you always turn me away.”
“I don’t, Lee, but I won’t give you money to go buy more heroin. I won’t enable your addiction.”
Holy shit! Lee is an addict?
“If you need to go back into the rehab program to get clean again, I will help you. I can see you’ve been using over the last twenty-four hours by the way you look right now.”
Tremors wracked his body.
“When did you use last?”
“Yesterday.” Sweat poured down his temples, wetting his dirty t-shirt. He climbed to his feet and began to pace from the door and back to where Libby stood. “I need a fix, Lib.”
“No you don’t. You need to fight this. You know how this works, Lee. These symptoms will persist for a few days and then you’ll feel better. You just have to get through this rough part.”
“It would be so much easier for me to disappear.”
“You can’t do that. You’ve got me. You’ve got Mom and Dad, and you even have Brock again. He’s here. I’m sure he’ll help you too. He was your best friend way back when.” She looked at him with hopeful eyes. “Right, Brock?”
Brock shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do or say at this point. Lee had been his friend when they were in high school and afterwards, but when the chips came down with the verdict of murder, he’d disappeared. Brock never heard from him the whole time he’d been in prison and at this point, he didn’t feel very charitable toward his former best friend. What to do though? He wasn’t sure. Libby had written a few times, but he’d never read any of them. His choice was to avoid reminders of home at the time. Being with Libby now made things difficult. If he turned his back on Lee, he’d be turning his back on Libby. He couldn’t do that. She meant too much to him. She’d been his rock and his savior during his time in the slammer, even if she never knew and now she was doing so much to help him, he couldn’t walk away from her. Not that he thought there was any kind of future for them together, but he’d take what he could get and being in her arms made him whole, at least for now. “Uh, yeah sure.”
Lee stopped his pacing and faced him. “I’m sorry, Brock. Things got real rough when you left. I was kind of lost without you here to be my backup.” He shoved his hands through his sweaty hair. “I had a girl though. A nice girl. We were good together, but I fucked it up. I started getting high, and she left. She couldn’t handle me that way.” He sat down on the couch, his hands dangling between his spread knees. “I loved her. Heroin loved me more. I liked the way it makes me feel. You know, when you start out it’s all mellow and stuff. Life is beautiful. People are awesome. It even makes me a better person.”
He glanced up and Brock saw a guy who hurt, a guy who didn’t want to let this thing beat him, but so far he was losing the battle.
“Then you need more and more. It goes from costing you ten bucks to get high to costing a hundred or more. You find a dealer. He gives you what you need, for a price. The great feelings aren’t there anymore. Those people who were awesome are now keeping you from the drugs you need. You lose the people you love, those who used to love you.” He wiped his face with his arm. “I thought I had it beat. I was doing so much better. If I hadn’t run into her and seen how she’d moved on with her life without me, I think I would have been okay.” A tear rolled down his face, dropping onto his hand. “I love her so much.”
Libby sat next to him on the couch and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her. “I know.”
Brock wasn’t sure what to do. He felt like the outsider, and he guessed he was. This wasn’t something he was prepared for when he came back to Bard. He’d figured Lee had gone to college, got a good job, married someone nice, and lived somewhere cool, not this broken shell of a man. The person sitting on the couch crying like a tattered soul, like a lost soul, hit something deep inside him. He knew what it felt to be that lost soul with nowhere to go and nobody to turn to as revenge and truth burned in your gut. Even though he didn’t understand what Lee was going through, he would do what he could to help him.
Taking his other side, Brock sat down on the couch by Lee and grasped his shaking hand. “I’m here for you, buddy. Tell me what I need to do.” He glanced up at Libby, meeting her eyes over Lee’s head. The sparkle of tears on her lashes told him everything he needed to know.
This would be a long night.