"Tell me why you lied," I growled.
"She kicked me out. I was all alone, so I left. There's nothing left to the story. I lied because I wanted you to move on," she said.
Once again, everything faded around us, like when we were kids and I couldn't focus on anything but her. I didn't understand what she was telling me.
My job phone rang, breaking the silent standoff. Bren's number flashed across the screen. "What up, boss?"
"Where'd you get to last night, son? Your boy told me you scored some party pussy," he laughed into the phone.
My fingers curled tightly around the phone, almost crushing it in my anger. "Best pussy I ever had," I said, staring straight into Charlie's eyes. "Call me next party. Yo, that blow was grade A."
Charlie's gaze flitted to the floor and she pushed off the counter, slowly making her way into the living room, practically collapsing onto my couch.
"Listen up; I'm calling to see if you could still pull off that job I was telling you about. Woke up and my girl is gone. She's probably with that dick she's been texting. She needs to go," Bren said.
Here it comes.
Somebody wants her dead. What happened to my sweet innocent girl? The one who taught me how to be a good kid? The one who never cursed? The one who made me believe I could be more than what everyone said I could be?
My body shook with rage. Through the open door I could see her sitting there with that gorgeous face in her hands. And every ounce of hate and anger just vanished.
"Yeah, bro. I hear you. I got this. What are you offering?" I asked, trying to sound excited.
"Five grand," he answered.
"Perfect number. They'll never find her," I said.
"Deal, bro. I got that cash at the parlor. When you want to do business?" He sounded as if he wanted it done as soon as possible.
"Tonight? I'll pick you up at nine. We'll go for a drive. That way, no one sees us talking. You tell me what you need. I'm your man. It ain't my first time, and I ain’t ever got caught."
"Sounds good. Later," he said, disconnecting.
"Charlie?" My voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper.
She tilted her head up to look
At me
And I was lost.
Chapter 14
Charlie
My secret. Just under the surface of my lips, like the beating of a guilty heart, I feared it was loud enough for him to hear. He’d hear it. He’d catch me. He already knew I was lying. He'd find the truth and that shitty life he complained about would be blissful compared to the hell of knowing.
Walking back into the room, he called my name in a low whisper. His eyes pleaded with mine. I didn't want to see him hurt.
"I'm getting as many answers as I can. Right now," he said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, facing me. "How long have you been messing with the drug dealer?"
"I worked for his mother. I—"
"You're living in the middle of filthy animals. Lower than life. Scum. Why?"
"I loved you so utterly and so completely, Jase. When you left it destroyed me." I ran my hands through my hair and stood up. I needed to leave. I'd take Bren trying to hire a cop to have me killed any time, but telling Jase what his own father did, I physically couldn't do it. I had cold sweats thinking about it, remembering it. "I need to go. I'll get a room at a hotel. I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable here. I feel sick, actually."
I walked over to the window and leaned my hands heavily onto the sill. My thoughts were fractured, snapping and splintering, and I needed to leave before I told the only person left alive I’d ever trusted how much I needed him.
Suddenly, there was a warmth behind me, and I whirled around the instant I felt the heat. Jase was facing me, so close I had to lean back on my palms to hold onto the last drop of personal space I had. But, he wasn't having any of it. His arms came around me and before I knew what was happening, he hauled me off my feet and slammed me down against the wooden edge of the window.
Oh, my God, no.
My throat seized and choked on a scream as he locked my wrists behind my back and shifted his brick shithouse of a body between my legs. Cold metal slid roughly along the tender skin of my wrists as he pulled me flush against his chest, trapping me. I heard the metal zip and click of what I could only guess were handcuffs. A desperate sob tore out of my chest and my focus blurred and whirled.
He cupped my face in his hands, tilting my chin up to see him. My vision worsened as all I could see were the streams of my horrified tears.
"Give me this one last thing, Charlie. Just tell me and you can leave me and never look back."
His touch was so gentle; contrary to the tight grip of the cuffs, it made me dizzy. I tried to twist away, only to thrash myself against the thick cold glass of the window. Pain shot up my forearms and into my shoulders. It was insane to rather slam myself through the glass of the window and fall to my death than to face what he wanted me to tell.
Insane.
And right about then, I was damn near certifiable.
My pulse raced through my veins, thrashing a thunderous heartbeat behind my inner ear. All I heard was the rapid, hard thumps of my pulse slamming through my body.
I couldn't get in enough air. There just wasn't any. Only a vacuum of nothingness threatened to burst inward and implode, folding in on myself—until I was nothing more than shadows and darkness. The only thing that held me in place were the metal clasps at my wrists that my shattered mind irrationally changed into someone's computer cord from so long ago.
Involuntarily, my body sank to the floor. Dark black spots darkened and bit at the edges of my tear-streaked point of view.
Someone called my name from far away. It sounded beautiful and safe and perfect, like the most precious of distant memories.
Haunting blue eyes pierced through the tears. The same color as those that had filled my nightmares for years, and I was back there.
The touches. The sounds. The sick, the filth and grunts, the rub of soap and the look in his eyes. The look in hers. The pity from the doctors. The suspicions from detectives.
"You killed me, Charlie. You left me. You vanished. You were my life. You were everything to me. Everything." Jase's voiced cracked through. A kaleidoscope of fleshy images and pain spun a design of madness before my eyes.
Jase's fist hit into the wall, "I couldn't breathe without you. So now, you tell me why!"
My head swam; my lungs ached. I threw my body weight at him. "Take them...take them...off...me. Can't stay like this. Jase! Please," I sobbed.
"Stop doing that! What are you doing?" He crouched down onto the floor with me and grabbed at my wrists. I didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't know what I was doing. I was just trying to get free. I felt a yank and my hands were free from the binds, only now they were held in front of my face, red and purple and raw.
"That's not normal. That's not what happens," he said, no louder than a whisper. "Innocent people don't react like that in cuffs!"
"Why are you doing this to me?" I cried through large gulps of breath.
"Tell me," he growled in my face. Relentless, he wouldn't stop. "Tell me!" he screamed.
"Go ask your father," I whispered, defeated, pushing him away with all the strength I had. He skidded back across the floor and landed on his ass.
Time stopped.
The air around us stilled.
Thickened.
My eyes stayed focused on the floor, but I knew he was watching me. I could feel the burn of his eyes.
His voice was harsh and mean when he spoke. "Charlie, my father's been dead for almost six years. He committed suicide when I was eighteen."
All of my muscles froze, tightened, and shriveled into dust. "What?" I sobbed.
Soft, warm hands gently pulled at my chin, slid over my jaw, and cupped my neck, pleading with me to look at him. He let out a long, sad sigh when I did. "He was the suspect in an alleged crime and was being brought up on charges of assa
ult and rape."
Defeated.
Empty.
Numb.
I was done.
My body trembled; my bones and muscles were twisting and jumping, trying to break through my flesh. "Yeah? Did...you ever see the...uhhh...victim's name?"
He leaned back and climbed to his feet. Scooping me quickly up off the floor and into his arms, he carried me to the couch, setting me down. He straightened up and with an exasperated expression, he raked a hand through his dark hair. "You don't give me answers, but you get to ask me questions? Fine. No. The report was closed because she was a...minor..."
The words hung in the air.
Heavy with implications.
After what seemed like an interminable silence, Jase's entire body stiffened, his head turned, and his wide-open gaze slowly locked onto mine.
"Charlie..."
"Charlie?"
As if I physically hit him, he staggered back, his head slowly shaking with its denial. His face blanched to a sickening white, and his stare turned vacant.
Immediately, his brain put the pieces together and he just knew. And I knew, there would never be a going back for us—ever. I had completely lost him. I was right to keep this from him all of these years. Now, every beautiful memory we ever shared would be tarnished with revulsion.
Then, there was that moment. The moment when someone's expression went from shock to pity for the victim, and the victim’s life before, whatever kind of amazing person she was, just disappears from their view. I never wanted Jase Delaney to see me as a victim. It's not a part I play well. And the way his whole body reacted to the realization killed me.
His fingertips touched my face as tears slid down his cheeks. I'd never in my life seen a grown man cry. A fire spread across my chest and pooled up into my throat. I wanted to cover my face, curl up into a ball, and die, but he needed this. He needed to see me and forget all we ever were.
"No, Charlie. No, no. No, please, no." He fell to his knees in front of me. "How do I take that back? How? How do I erase that? How do I take that away from you?"
My chest convulsed with sobs and I shrugged. "I wanted you to just let me stay in your mind...perfect, Jase. Someone who once loved you, but chose to live a beautiful life in California with a man that loved her and their two kids. I never wanted you to worry about me. I wanted you to never know. I couldn't hurt you.” My body collapsed back into the cushions of the couch in exhaustion.
I was so tired.
Of life.
Of feeling.
I had no more
In me.
Chapter 15
Jase
The thought that someone hurt her was excruciating. Adding the knowledge that it was at the hands of my own father was utterly unbearable. No one should know that kind of physical violation, especially not someone like Charlie.
It was a real physical pain, and it sliced me up the middle, making me stagger back. And through this all, she watched my reaction, and I knew I had just made everything worse.
Without thinking, I devoured the small space between us and reached out for her. I cursed under my breath at the way she tensed when I touched her. Those big green eyes looked up at me, and all the hate and rage fell to the wayside, shoved somewhere in the background for a moment, because that beautiful woman should never see an ounce of bad again. Never feel fear again.
Her breathing completely stopped when I wrapped my arms around her and gathered her into my chest. She shuddered in a small hiccup of a gasp, stiffened in my hold, and frantically wiped her eyes and cheeks free of tears.
"You were never supposed to figure it out," she whispered, leaning her head against my shoulder and sniffling. "Now all you see is a victim. You can't see me anymore."
I carried her into the bedroom. Damn it, the place was a mess. I knew what she meant about seeing her as a victim. I understood completely, and I didn't want to say anything to mess up this situation any more than it already was. Silently, I pulled back the covers of my bed and laid her down.
"I have a big T-shirt to wear if you want to change. Get comfortable," I offered, quickly rummaging through my drawers. I handed her the shirt and turned my back to give her privacy, even though it just about killed me to allow her to think I wouldn't want to watch. But, now was not the time.
I heard the material shifting and folding. She still sniffled a few times before she whispered, "Okay. I'm decent."
I couldn't tell if she was though, since she'd tucked herself into my bed with the covers up to her chin.
It was the most gorgeous sight I'd ever seen.
I could remember the nights I sat and watched her as she slept in her tree house. I'd stay up until sunrise, tracing my fingers along her skin. I had never loved anyone the way I loved her and at that moment, I couldn’t do anything but have incredible awe and admiration for the courage this woman before me had to go through—all she did alone.
"I’ve been in love with you since I looked up and saw the nine-year-old you standing next to Joey, and I flipped you the finger. I've been in love with you through everything and everyone I have ever spent my life with." I shook my head and sighed, "It was always you. Always. There is nothing you can tell me that will make me look at you as anything other than my Charlie."
A look of terror flashed in her red-rimmed eyes. She was exhausted and scared. I needed to give her some time to process me knowing her secret. And I had to make sure it was true.
"That call I got before...I have to go into work," I said.
"But you didn't sleep."
"I'm a cop; we don't sleep. Not when we can stop the bad guys," I smirked.
I backed away from the bed and tried to give her a comforting smile. "Sleep for a while. You're exhausted. I'll be back in a few."
She nodded her head and was out cold before I reached the bedroom door. A few soft sniffled hiccups slipped through her body.
I hated to leave her. But, I needed to make sure. I needed to make sure I wasn't going into this blind. I've been on the job for too long; I didn't trust anyone. The last person I trusted was Charlie, and before this, I hadn't seen her for seven years.
Walking into my kitchen, I pulled out my phone and found the contact for the lab. It rang four times before someone picked up.
"City of New York Crime Lab," a male voice greeted.
"Hey, how are you doing? This is Detective Jase Delaney, from OCCB narcotics. I need to get a hold of an original case file of a sexual assault that happened a few years ago. The suspect's name was Anthony Delaney."
The douche had me on hold for way too long, and by the time he got back on, I was halfway there already. My hands slammed down on the dash and my fists smashed into the steering wheel at every light. If I only thought to get into the file as soon as I got on the job, I would have known all this time. But if onlys never help anything, they just drive you insane.
At seventeen, as soon as I'd heard the accusations against my father, I knew he was guilty as Hell. He had dragged me screaming away from Charlie and deposited me in Ivy Ridge, an academy for troubled teens housed in the remote Adirondack Mountains. My eighteenth birthday came, and when I still couldn't get in contact with Charlie, I enlisted.
They had evidence of the assault from some interview with the doctor that was in the hospital the night of the attack. My father killed himself just before the authorities got to question him. I was away at boot camp. I didn't even attend his funeral. I didn't care to. In my rulebook, rapists didn't deserve to be cried over, remembered, or mourned. He could rot in Hell for all I cared.
My stomach wrenched, thinking I might actually see physical evidence of the incident in the file I was racing toward, blowing stop sign after stop sign. Collecting evidence for a rape kit was such an invasive process. How the hell did she do it? How did she get through it all alone and only seventeen years old?
Jamaica Avenue was an absolute disaster to drive through. The morning rush of people heading out to work or school had me cur
sing all the way to the front door of the lab and slamming it open with a thunderous crash.
"Morning," I grumbled to the clerk, shoving my ID against the glass window that separated us. "I called about cold case file 32856."
He buzzed me into the office and I made my way down the corridor to the reports room, meeting another clerk in the back.
He handed me a thick, yellowed file that held the answers to every question I’d had for the last decade.
Stepping back, I gripped the folder, crunching the papers inside, and then I made my way to one of the tables set up for people to analyze data.
I didn't have to search long through the stack of papers within; Charlotte Stone's name was clear as the accuser against Anthony Delaney. My hands shook as I skimmed through the reports. The doctor in the hospital that night filed the claim. After her rape kit was done and all the evidence was collected, her mother signed her out. The victim was never heard from again. Charlotte was never heard from again. But, the charges still stuck. There was evidence, specific DNA evidence, against him. My father would have never been able to deny the claims. Semen stains sullied her clothes and hair. The evidence rocked me, hollowed me out, leaving me gulping for air. The pictures of her bruised thighs and welted wrists made me break down and cry in the middle of that office. No wonder she freaked out the way she did when I handcuffed her.
I'll never forgive myself for that.
Never.
"Hey, you got what you came here for? Anything else you need?"
All I could offer was a hard shake of my head. I couldn't speak. A primal scream bit at the back of my throat and threatened to explode past my lips if I did.
"You can keep the copies. Case was closed. Suspect offed himself a bunch of years ago."