Broken Pieces (20 page)

Marianne stepped closer to her and embraced her. “Thank you,” she whispered into Mariah’s ear. “Thank you for being brave enough to tell.” She stepped back and Mariah took her hands.

“You should talk to Clay,” Mariah said. “He needs to know all he can about these crimes.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “I’m not as brave as you, Mariah. Besides, you’ll be leaving here soon and
I have to live here long after this is all over. I’m not sure I want people to know.”

They hugged again. Then Mariah watched as Marianne hurried down the porch and to her car. She closed the door and locked it, then turned to go back into the kitchen.

“Mom?” Kelsey sat on the stairs, her eyes red and swollen.

“Hi, baby. You want some dinner?” Mariah moved to the staircase. Dinner, what a lame question when what she really wanted to know was whether Kelsey still loved her, whether things were going to be okay.

“I’m not really hungry,” Kelsey replied, and she scooted over so Mariah could sit next to her. Although what Mariah wanted to do more than anything was put her arm around Kelsey and pull her tight against her, she didn’t. It was all up to Kelsey. She’d let Mariah know what she needed from her and what she was ready to accept.

“I was listening to you and Mrs. Francis.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. If I could, I’d protect you from all the ugliness in the world. If I could, I’d put you in a bubble where only happy things could happen in your life.”

Kelsey frowned. “Do you think he did that to other women who didn’t tell?”

“I think he probably has,” Mariah replied, and breathed a sigh of sweet relief as Kelsey leaned into her.

“Then he’s evil and bad.”

Wrapping an arm around Kelsey’s slender shoulders, Mariah was grateful when her daughter didn’t pull away, but rather leaned closer. “I don’t know what kind of a man he is. But I do know what kind
of a person you are. You’re kind and gentle and have a loving, caring spirit. You’re my daughter, Kelsey, and I love you more anything else on earth.”

“I don’t hate you, Mom. I love you,” Kelsey cried, and burrowed closer to Mariah.

“I know that, honey.”

“Is it true what you said, that you ran away from here to protect me?”

“I ran away from here for a lot of reasons, but yes, one of them was to protect you. I was afraid that somehow the man who had raped me would find out about you, and then he’d somehow twist the facts and make it that we’d had consensual sex and he’d want to be a part of your life. I didn’t want him in your life—that’s why I created a fantasy for us both.”

Kelsey heaved a tremulous sigh and sat up. “I think this deserves a cell phone.”

Mariah laughed, for in her daughter’s words, in the shine of love from Kelsey’s eyes, she knew it was going to be okay. She knew the bond of mother and daughter had withstood this tremendous test.

“I’ll tell you what.” She stood and pulled Kelsey to her feet. “When we get back to Chicago, we’ll get you a cell phone and in the meantime if you come into the kitchen, I’ll make your favorite, a box of macaroni and cheese.”

“So, we’re really going back to Chicago,” Kelsey said later as she ate a bowl of the macaroni. Tiny sat at her feet, having finished his bowl of dog food and hoping for a tidbit dropped to the floor.

“Aunt Janice is going to be released from the hospital in the next day or two and then we’ll head back.”

Kelsey obviously had the same ambivalent feelings
about leaving as Mariah did. She frowned down at her bowl. “I liked it here,” she said softly.

“So did I,” Mariah agreed. “But I think it’s best if we get back to our lives in Chicago and put this summer and this place far behind us.”

“What about you and Dr. Hot?” Kelsey looked at her. “I thought you two were, you know, really getting together.”

A spasm of pain shot through Mariah at thoughts of Jack. “I guess some things just aren’t meant to be,” she said.

“That’s sad ’cause I liked him and I like you with him.”

“I know. So did I,” Mariah replied.

It was after ten when Mariah stood in the doorway of Kelsey’s bedroom and watched her daughter sleep. Even from her distance from the bed, she could hear the faint tinny sound of the music that played in the earphones her daughter wore. Someday all the kids of this generation would probably need hearing aids, Mariah thought.

She turned away and went to the bathroom, where she changed into her nightgown, then went into her own bedroom. With the lights off she stared out the window at the trees, as she had several nights before.

The light of a full moon spilled down, painting the tops of the trees in a shimmery silvery light. It would be difficult for somebody to hide there tonight with the moon like a spotlight from the sky.

He’s out a lot. At night
. Marianne’s words played and replayed in her mind.
He brought me flowers the next morning
. Flowers because she’d had to walk home or because he’d lost control and raped her?

Roger, who had always seemed to be hanging
around in high school. Roger, who coached during the school year and painted homes in the summers. Was he capable of such a thing?

He was a husband and a father. He was respected and well liked by his peers. Beneath the surface was he a monster?

How many times in the news had she read the stories of serial killers who, on the surface, were fine, upstanding men, men whom neighbors never suspected, men who when discovered shocked friends and family members?

She turned away and got into bed and reached out to touch the cold metal of Janice’s gun on her nightstand. Clay hadn’t mentioned its presence when he’d given her Janice’s purse. He’d probably found the license in Janice’s wallet and knew it was legal.

Whether it was legal or not, there was no question that Mariah felt better knowing it was within easy grasp. She’d never shot a gun before, but that wouldn’t stop her from doing so if it was to save her life or the life of her daughter. How hard could it be? Point and pull the trigger.

She rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling where the moonlight through the tree danced intricate shadows.

A couple more days and this town would be nothing more than a distant memory. She’d come back one more time to close on the house; then she’d look ahead and never look back again.

She’d faced her biggest fear, that somehow Kelsey would find out the truth, and she’d survived. Her friend had lived to tell the tale of her vicious attack and even the pain of leaving Jack would eventually heal.

Marianne had told her she was brave, but she wasn’t brave. She was running from a place she’d grown to love, running away from a man she loved, because she was afraid, afraid that somehow the man who had raped her, the man who had fathered Kelsey, had been waiting here for her all along.

Chapter 31

H
e was going to explode. The pain no longer went away but was an unrelenting dagger inside him. The rage was like a beast within him, clawing and biting to get out.

He walked the deserted street, fighting for control but feeling the resignation of a battle lost. There was a certain euphoric joy in just giving in to the madness, allowing it to carry him down the path to damnation. It was so much easier to give in to it than to fight it.

Like a predatory animal, he shot his narrowed gaze left and then right, seeking vulnerability, eager to release the boiling emotions that burned in his gut.

He stayed away from the town park, unsure if one of Clay’s men would be watching the area after the attack on Mariah’s friend.

There had to be somebody out and about, some teenager walking home alone, a young housewife out for a little night air. He needed somebody. God, he was in so much pain.

But after an hour his frustration level was at a fever pitch. He knew from the gossip he’d heard that
day that Mariah had told. She’d gone to Clay and told him about the attack she’d suffered years ago. He also knew from the gossip that she hadn’t been able to give Clay anything that might identify him.

What she had managed to do was ruin his hunting ground. Dammit, she’d ruined things. Tonight there were no young girls hanging out on the corners, no single women on the streets at all. The only place there were people was at the Tavern and a peek inside the window showed them all to be of the male variety.

There was no relief for him here and the demons inside him were screaming for release. But he knew where to go. He knew who would calm the shriek inside his head, still the banging drum of need.

Mariah.

Was she the final piece? Was she the one who would finally make him whole? Stop the relentless madness inside his soul? God, he wanted it to stop.

Sometimes in the deepest darkness of the night he wept, for in rare moments of clarity he knew what he was, what he’d become. A monster.

But tonight the monster was loose and he needed her.

Mariah.

Chapter 32

M
ariah’s eyes snapped open and she was instantly awake. She remained unmoving, holding her breath as she stared up at the ceiling, muscles tensed in fight-or-flight readiness.

What?

What had pulled her from her sleep?

What had interrupted her sweet dreams of Jack and love? She released a slow, steady breath, muscles relaxing bit by bit. Maybe she’d gotten too warm. Certainly the nights in this house without air-conditioning were getting a bit less pleasant, especially since she kept the windows on the lower level locked up tight at night.

She pushed the sheet off her body and closed her eyes once again, wishing she could reclaim the pleasant dream she’d been having.

Creak
.

Her heart stopped beating as her breath caught painfully in her chest. Every muscle in her body tensed once again. The fourth stair. Somebody had stepped on the fourth stair. She turned her head toward the bedroom doorway.

It wasn’t Kelsey, for no lights had gone on. Kelsey would never have gone downstairs without flipping on a light. Somebody’s in the house. Panic seared through her, momentarily immobilizing her as she froze with terror.

Creak
.

The fifth stair! Oh God, somebody was coming up the stairs, somebody hiding in the darkness of the night, moving with an intruder’s stealth.

It was him! He was in the house. On the stairs. He’d come back for her.

Get in the closet. Hide! Hide! She choked back a sob as she slid from the bed to the floor, her heartbeat crashing erratically, making her short of breath.

The moment her knees made contact with the floor, a vision of Kelsey exploded in her head. Kelsey, who was in her room. Kelsey, who was vulnerable. The music playing in her ears as she slept would make her even more vulnerable. She’d never hear him coming.

Mariah couldn’t hide. She had to protect her daughter. She had to keep Kelsey safe and to do that, she had to face the monster on the stairs.

In that instant of awareness she remembered the gun. Janice’s gun. Her hand scrambled on the top of the nightstand and she gasped in frantic relief as her fingers curled tightly around the cool metal of the handle.

Gun clutched in hand, she quietly rose to her feet, hoping she had the element of surprise. She hurried toward her bedroom doorway. No matter what, she couldn’t allow him to get past her. She’d shoot and ask questions later.

Drawing a deep breath, she stepped out of the bedroom
and into the hall. A dark shadow came up the stairs toward her.

It was too dark to see who it was. She knew only that he was big and didn’t belong. “Stop,” she exclaimed. Instead of stopping, he rushed her and with a sob she pulled the trigger.

And nothing happened.

He hit her with the force of a freight train, his shoulder barreling into her stomach. She fell backward and her head banged into the floor with a sickening thud.

She knew nothing more as darkness swallowed her.

It was almost midnight when Jack got out of his car in front of the Tavern. He should be in bed with Rover snoring soundly on the floor nearby. He should be in bed with Mariah, her warm body snuggled against his and the scent of her lingering in his head.

But Mariah hadn’t answered any of the phone messages he’d left for her that day, and by the time night had fallen, a fierce depression had settled over him.

It was over. It was done. She obviously didn’t intend to have anything else to do with him. She’d told him good-bye, but he just hadn’t realized it was so final.

Officially the Tavern closed at two, but when Jack walked through the door, it looked as if the place was already closed for the night.

Henry, the bartender, sat at one of the tables talking to the only other person in the place, Clay Matheson.

Clay looked like a dead man walking. His broad face was haggard, his eyes red and strained-looking. “You’re out late, Dr. Taylor.”

“I could say the same for you, Sheriff,” Jack replied as he joined the two men.

“What are you drinking, Jack?” Henry asked.

Jack noticed Clay had what appeared to be a soda in front of him. “I’ll take a bottle of Bud.” As Henry got up to get the beer, Jack looked at Clay. “Long day?”

He nodded. “I have a feeling they’re all going to be long from now on.”

“Mariah told me you had somebody coming in today from Kansas City to look at some of the old missing-persons cases.”

“Scott Haynes. He’s a homicide detective on the Kansas City police force. We spent the day going over all the reports and trying to follow up with friends and family members of those missing.”

Henry returned to the table with the bottled beer. “Clay’s friend thinks we have a big problem here in town,” Henry said.

“Unfortunately, it’s just his gut feeling and nothing based in fact or evidence,” Clay added. “I’m taking the cases one at a time and reinvestigating them all, hoping we’ll come up with something concrete.”

“And you definitely think these missing persons are tied to the rapist?” Jack asked.

“Hell, man, I don’t know what to think. All I know is that it’s time for me to step up my game. As far as I’m concerned, the only three men I know for certain aren’t guilty are sitting right here at this table. Henry here because he just moved to town two years
ago. And you because Mariah was positive you were too skinny to be her attacker years ago, and on the night of her friend’s attack, she told me, she talked to you on the phone and you were home. Then later you picked her up to search for her friend.”

Jack took a swig of his beer, then set the bottle back on the table. “That leaves a lot of men in this town who might be guilty.”

Clay leaned back in his chair and his eyes narrowed. “You know, I’ve spent the last ten years afraid that if something bad happened in this town, I wasn’t good enough to fix it. Now something bad has happened and I’m not afraid—I’m just plain pissed off. I’m going to catch this creep. I won’t stop until he’s behind bars. This is still my town and I’ll be damned if I’ll allow this to continue.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jack said, and once again lifted his bottle. If and when Clay got the man who had raped Mariah all those years ago, Jack wouldn’t mind having a few minutes alone with the man. Kicking animals and hurting women—there was a special place in hell for men who shattered innocence, who preyed on the vulnerable.

As thoughts of Mariah filled his head once again, a new wave of depression settled over his shoulders. He felt the same way he had when he’d been seventeen years old and found out the girl of his heart had left town. It was happening all over again and he was helpless to stop it.

Marianne Francis awoke with a start. She’d been having a nightmare. It wasn’t unusual for a nightmare to wake her up in the middle of the night. She
never remembered the dreams when she awakened, but she knew they were about the night she’d been raped.

The bedroom was pitch-black, although she could see a faint outline of gray around the edges of the light-blocking shades that hung at the windows.

She faced the wall and the luminous face of the clock on her nightstand told her it was just after midnight. Cold. She was always cold when she woke up from a bad dream.

She moved closer to the middle of the bed, seeking Roger’s warmth. He was like having her very own furnace. He radiated heat when he slept. She inched over and over, but didn’t feel her husband’s warmth, didn’t hear the familiar sound of his breathing.

They’d gone to bed together at ten. He’d told her he was exhausted. Of course that was because he was out late almost every night. She’d taken one of her sleeping pills and had almost immediately fallen into a deep sleep.

She swept her hand out but encountered only the yawn of cold sheets and emptiness beside her. Turning on the lamp on her nightstand, she confirmed what she’d thought. She was alone in the bed.

There was no sound coming from the bathroom or anyplace else in the house. “Roger?” she called, but there was no answer. She hadn’t really expected one.

She slid from the bed and went to the window and peeked out behind the shade. His car was gone. She quickly got back into bed and pulled the covers up around her. Cold. So cold.

Where are you, Roger? Oh God, she was afraid to know. She huddled beneath the blankets and prayed her husband wasn’t a monster.