Mending Fences (2 page)

Just then the weary-looking physician who handled for too many of these cases emerged from the treatment area.

“How’s it going, Doc?” Grady asked Amanda Benitez.

“I’m starting to have a very jaded outlook on life in general and men in particular,” Amanda said. “This guy roughed her up pretty good. He was smart about it, almost as if he knew how to go about it without leaving the kind of obvious visible marks that would call attention to what he’d done. Her stomach, her upper thighs have some nasty bruises, though. He was strong and he was mean.”

Grady read between the lines. “He’s done this before?”

“I’d say yes. You know the pattern as well as I do. It’s not just about the sex. This is a guy who gets off on
hurting women, the more innocent and defenseless the better. You have a name?”

Grady nodded. “And when this goes public, the shit is going to hit the fan.”

It was well past midnight on Saturday and Marcie had just finished cleaning up the kitchen, putting every dish and glass back into place, polishing every piece of chrome and mopping the floor for the second time that day, when the doorbell rang.

Worried that it would wake Ken and the kids, she hurried into the living room to answer the door. Startled to see two uniformed officers and two other people in plain clothes outside at this hour of the night, she was tempted not to open the door, but weighed her caution against the possibility that they’d wind up waking her family by continuing to ring the bell. She finally opened the door a crack, the security chain still in place.

“Can I help you?”

“Pinecrest police, ma’am,” one of the uniformed officers said. “We have two detectives from Coral Gables who’d like to speak to your son. Since they’re out of their jurisdiction, we came along.”

“I don’t understand,” Marcie said.

“You’re Mrs. Carter?” the female detective asked. “Evan Carter’s mother?”

Marcie’s breath lodged in her throat. “Yes, why?”

“We need to speak to your son,” she repeated. “Is he here?”

“He’s asleep. What is this about?”

“I’m Detective Lansing,” the woman told her. “And this is Detective Rodriguez. We need to talk to Evan. Would you get him, please?”

Though it was phrased as a question, Marcie recognized a command when she heard one. She tried to think what Ken would do. He’d probably tell them to go away and come back at a civilized hour, but Marcie had been brought up to respect authority. Four very somber police officers from two jurisdictions were more than enough to intimidate her.

“You’ll have to give me a few minutes,” she said at last. “He’s a sound sleeper.”

“No problem. We’ll wait,” the woman told her.

Reluctantly Marcie let them inside, then started to climb the stairs. After only a couple of steps, she turned back. “Maybe I should…” she began, her tone apologetic. “Could I see some identification?” She’d read stories about fake police officers, even in uniform, and home-invasion robberies. Even though she recognized the Pinecrest logo on the uniform and saw the marked car in the driveway, it was smart to be absolutely sure.

Without comment all four of them held out badges and ID, removing any doubt that they were exactly who they’d said they were. She almost wished she hadn’t asked. Until that instant, she’d been able to hold out a slim hope that this was all some hoax or maybe a case of mistaken identity.

Evan was a good kid. He always had been. Oh, he had a mouth on him. He was like his father that way, but he’d never given them any trouble. He’d never so much as put a ding or dent in the car, never gotten into mischief the way some of the other boys in the neighborhood had. His dad had seen to that. Ken was a stern disciplinarian and both her kids showed him a healthy amount of respect.

Thinking about that made this whole scene feel surreal.
Once again she hesitated. “Why do you need to see Evan at this hour? Is he in trouble?”

For the first time, Detective Rodriguez spoke. “Ma’am, could you just get him? We’ll explain everything then.”

Filled with a sense of dread, she climbed the stairs. At the top she debated waking Ken but decided against it. Who knew what he would do or say? He had a quick temper and a sharp tongue. He tended to act first and think later. He might wind up making a bad situation worse. If Evan needed him, there would be time enough to wake him then.

Inside Evan’s room, she found him sprawled facedown across his bed with a sheet barely covering him. Sometimes when she saw him like this, it caught her by surprise. In her heart, he was still her little boy, not a full-grown man with broad shoulders and muscles toned by hours of training at the gym. His cheeks were stubbled with a day’s growth of beard and his blond hair, usually so carefully groomed, stuck out every which way. Seeing him reminded her of the way Ken had looked when they’d first met, way too handsome for his own good.

“Evan,” she murmured, her hand on his shoulder. “Wake up! Evan!”

He only moaned and buried his head under the pillow, just as he had for years when she’d tried to wake him for school. Marcie knew the routine. She yanked the pillow away and then the sheet, averting her gaze from his naked body as she did so.

“Wake up!” she commanded, shaking him.

“Wha…? Go ’way.”

“Get up now,” she said urgently. “There’s someone here to see you.”

He blinked up at her. “What? Who?”

“They’re police officers, four of them. Two local and two from the Gables.”

“Shit, oh shit,” he muttered, raking his hand through his hair.

Something in the panicked expression that flitted across his face terrified Marcie. Had there been an accident? Had he left the scene? Or drugs? She knew there were kids at college who used them, but Evan had always been smart enough to steer clear. He’d wanted his football career too much to risk messing it up by experimenting with drugs or steroids. Ken had hammered that lesson home years ago.

“Do you know what this is about?” she asked. “Should I get your dad?”

“I’ll handle it,” he said, grabbing a pair of jeans and yanking them on, then snatching up a T-shirt from the end of the bed and pulling it over his head. “Don’t come downstairs, Mom, okay? I’ll take care of this.”

Marcie fought to stay calm. “I don’t like the sound of this, Evan. I think someone should be with you. Do I need to call a lawyer?”

“I said I’d handle it,” he snapped. “Go to bed.”

Marcie winced at his tone. She should have been used to it by now. Ken used that exact same tone when he spoke to her, but it was relatively new coming from Evan.

“You’re not going down there alone,” she insisted. “Now either I come with you or I get your father.”

“Whatever,” he said belligerently.

Marcie followed him downstairs. At the bottom of the steps, the two detectives stood in his path.

“Evan Carter?” Detective Rodriguez asked.

“Yes. What the hell is this about?” he demanded, his voice radiating antagonism.

Again, he sounded so much like his father, it gave Marcie goose bumps. Instinct kicked in. She was about to try to smooth things over with the detectives, but realized they were oblivious to his attitude and totally focused on their own mission.

“You’re under arrest for the rape of Lauren Brown,” the woman said quietly. “Anything you say can and will be used against you…”

Rape! Marcie was incredulous. This simply couldn’t be happening. As the detective read Evan his rights, Marcie fought back the bile rising in her throat and ran upstairs to wake her husband. She couldn’t shake the sound of the word
rape
. It kept echoing in her head.

“Ken, get up now! The police are arresting Evan. They say he raped somebody.”

She didn’t have to say it twice. Ken bolted out of bed with a curse and ran for the stairs, Marcie right on his heels. She heard Caitlyn’s door open and knew that her daughter had been wakened by the commotion as well.

“Mom, what’s going on? Why is there a police car outside?”

Marcie couldn’t bring herself to explain. “It’s all a terrible misunderstanding,” she said. “I’m sure that’s all it is. Your father will straighten everything out, but I need to go with him.”

“Go with him where?” Caitlyn asked, her eyes wide. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“To the police station. I’m going to call Emily and see if you can go over and spend the night at their house, okay? I don’t want you here alone.”

“Who’s been arrested? Is it Dad?”

“No, sweetie, it’s your brother, but like I said, it has to be a mistake.” Her hand shook as she picked up the phone and hit the number on the speed dial for Emily.

Her friend and neighbor answered on the first ring, instantly wide awake. “Marcie, is everything okay? I saw the flashing lights on a police car turning onto your street, but I never heard a siren. What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain now. Can Caitlyn stay with you?”

“Of course,” she said at once. “Send her over. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Pray,” Marcie said, her voice catching on a sob. “Pray that the police have made some horrible mistake. My boy…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“They came for Evan?” Emily said, sounding as shocked as Marcie felt.

“Yes. Please, just watch out for Caitlyn. She’s on her way. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

“Go. Don’t worry about anything here. Just promise that you’ll call me if there’s anything else I can do.”

Marcie sighed as she hung up. She wondered if Emily would sound half as supportive once she found out what Evan had been accused of doing. There were some things even a best friend could never understand or forgive.

And if there was any truth, any truth at all to the charges, Marcie wasn’t entirely certain she’d ever understand it, either.

Ten years earlier

D
inner was going to be another rushed affair. Emily Dobbs had spent two hours in a tedious, unproductive teachers’ meeting after school, then picked up her husband’s dry cleaning, run by the post office for stamps, stopped by the drugstore for her prescription for birth control pills—not that she’d needed them lately—and spent fifteen minutes at the market trying to figure out what she could fix for dinner in the twenty minutes she had left after she’d picked the kids up from the sitter’s. Spaghetti with salad and garlic bread had been the quick and easy answer. She supposed that was a step up from stopping for fast-food burgers or ordering pizza, something she’d resorted to way too many times recently.

Every week she vowed to come up with nightly menus and a shopping list, rather than improvising every meal at the last possible moment. So far, she’d failed to follow through, despite her good intentions.

Lately everything in her life felt as if she were doing it on the run. Maybe she should have waited to go back into teaching, but she’d missed being in the classroom
after Josh and Dani were born. As soon as Dani had started in preschool, Emily had sought out and gotten a position teaching high school English just a few miles from home. Derek hadn’t been overjoyed when she’d told him, but he was traveling so much for business, he’d hardly been able to complain that she would be neglecting him or their marriage.

The kids, however, were another story. When it came to her son and daughter, she was assailed by guilt on a daily basis. They were growing so fast and she was missing some of it. Josh was a strong, athletic nine-year-old now with a well-developed mind of his own. Dani, with her long dark curls and her preference for dresses and tea parties, was a seven-year-old princess, ruler of the second grade.

As Emily stopped in front of Linda Wilson’s house, she watched her two precious children race outside and across the lawn. Well, Josh raced. Dani walked as sedately as if she were on a fashion runway, at least until her brother called back some taunting remark that had her sprinting the rest of the way.

“Hi, Mom,” Josh said, jumping into the front seat as Dani climbed more demurely into the back, then stuck out her tongue at her brother. Josh rolled his eyes, then directed his attention toward Emily. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“We’ve got new neighbors in back, and they’ve got kids. Mrs. Wilson told me that Evan’s the same age as me and he plays football and soccer and baseball. There’s a girl, too,” he added, as if that were of far less consequence.

“Her name’s Caitlyn,” Dani said, “but she’s just a baby.”

Josh rolled his eyes. “She’s five.”

“That’s too little to be my friend,” Dani said with a dramatic sigh of disappointment.

Emily bit back a smile. “Are you sure about that, sweetie? I bet she’d love to come to one of your tea parties,” she suggested. “You were five when we started having them, remember? Maybe she’s never even been to one and you could show her how much fun they are. In fact, since she’s just in kindergarten, there are probably lots of things you could teach her.”

Dani regarded her solemnly. “You think so?”

“You could ask,” Emily said.

Dani was silent for a long, considering moment, then nodded. “Maybe I will.”

And so it began…

The kids pestered Emily all day Saturday to let them go play with Evan and Caitlyn Carter. They both knew that there was one rigid rule in their house, that they were never to go to another child’s home unless she knew the parents, and she had yet to meet their new backdoor neighbors.

Exhausted from cleaning and grocery shopping and with a stack of English papers still to grade, she knew there would be no peace until she gave in.

“Okay, fine. Let’s take a walk and see if they’re home,” she agreed eventually.

The neighborhood in southeast Miami was shaded by pin oaks and giant banyan trees with their gnarled, twisted trunks that looked as if they belonged in a horror movie rather than in some pleasant, suburban neighborhood. Most of the well-landscaped yards were surrounded by hedges of bougainvillea in colors ranging
from purple and fuchsia to red or white. The prickly vines with their profusion of brilliant flowers served as something of a security barrier without the need for fences or gates, though high wrought-iron gates had started to appear at the end of a few driveways as property values went up, along with the crime rate.

Only a few blocks from the waters of Biscayne Bay, Emily thought she could detect traces of salt in the air, along with the lingering scent of night-blooming jasmine. It was enough to remind her how much she enjoyed being outdoors at this time of year, when the Miami air had less humidity and the sky was a clear, vivid blue. She and Derek needed to get back into the habit of taking a walk after dinner the way they had when they’d first moved into their dream house. Back then, they’d pushed Dani in her stroller and Josh had ridden along beside them on his tricycle.

A few years ago, they’d also known all their neighbors in this well-established area, but as prices had soared, many of their older neighbors had sold out and moved to more manageable condos or retirement communities. Lately the turnover had been so frequent that there were only a few familiar faces left from those early years…the Wilsons down the block, the Delgados on the corner and Janice Ortiz and her elderly mother on the next street.

“Mom, hurry up!” Josh said impatiently. “Can’t you walk any faster?”

Emily grinned at him. “I can, but I’m enjoying the fresh air.”

He regarded her blankly. “Why?”

“Someday you’ll understand,” she said, ruffling his brown hair.

“It’s like stopping to smell the roses,” Dani said. “Grandma Dobbs tells Dad he needs to do that.” She wrinkled her forehead. “I’m not sure what she means, though.”

“She means your dad works too hard,” Emily told her.

“No joke,” Josh said with disgust. “He’s never around anymore to play ball with me.”

“He has an important job,” Emily reminded him, feeling the need to defend Derek, even though Josh was expressing a dissatisfaction that she often felt herself. Then, as a reminder to herself as much as to her son, she added, “We should be grateful that he’s such a hard worker. That’s why we’re able to live in such a great house and you kids get to go to wonderful schools.”

“I’d rather be able to play ball with my dad,” Josh grumbled. “Dad doesn’t even come to my games half the time anymore.”

Emily resolved to remind Derek that he needed to get some balance back into his life, that his son needed more from him than a fancy house and every hot electronic game to hit the market, all purchased out of guilt over his too-frequent absences and a string of last-second disappointments.

As they approached the sprawling, Spanish-style house with a red-tiled roof that the Carters had just moved into, she hunkered down on the sidewalk in front of the kids. “Now remember to be on your best behavior,” she instructed. “The way you are when we visit Grandma Dobbs and Grammy and Poppy, okay?”

Josh was practically bouncing with excitement. It had been a long time since there had been a boy his age living close enough for him to hang out with. “Come on,” he pleaded, then made a dash for the pretentious
wrought-iron gate that was new to the property. He tried to turn the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He regarded it with dismay. “It’s locked.”

Emily was as startled as her son, but she spotted a buzzer next to the gate. “I think we probably need to push that button,” she told her son, and watched as he gave it an eager punch.

“Yes?” The disembodied voice sounded far away.

“I’m Emily Dobbs, your new neighbor. My kids and I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

A long buzz sounded and the gate swung open automatically. Josh stared at it, then grinned. “Cool!”

Dani wasn’t as enthusiastic. She eyed the gate warily and reached for Emily’s hand. “What if we can’t get out again?” she whispered.

“I’m sure it only keeps people out,” Emily reassured her. “It’s not meant to trap anyone inside.”

“Are you
sure?
” Dani asked.

“I’m sure, sweetie.”

By the time they’d walked along the curving driveway, two kids were racing in their direction. They skidded to a stop.

“Wow, this is so great,” the boy said. “I didn’t think there were any kids in the whole neighborhood. I was really bummed. I’m Evan. My sister’s Caitlyn.”

“I’m Josh,” her son told him. He added grudgingly, “That’s Dani.” Focusing his attention once again on the boy, he said, “I heard you like to play ball.”

“Any kind,” Evan confirmed. “You want to throw some passes out back? Football’s my favorite. I’m gonna go pro someday and play for the Dolphins.”

He said it with such absolute confidence that Emily had to fight to hide a smile.

Josh looked up at her. “Is it okay, Mom?”

“Sure,” Emily told him, then looked back to see that Dani was eyeing a dainty little girl in orange shorts, a purple T-shirt and tiny sneakers with dismay. The outfit, with grass stains and streaks of dirt, was a stark contrast to the pastel flowered dress and patent-leather shoes that Dani had chosen for the visit.

“How come you’re all dressed up?” the child asked Dani with a puzzled look. “You been to church?”

Dani regarded her with disdain. “I like to dress up. I like to read books and I like to have tea parties, too.”

“I play ball with my brother,” Caitlyn said. “But only ’cause there’s nobody else around.” Her wistful gaze shifted to follow the direction in which the boys had disappeared. Then she sighed. “My mom just baked cookies. You want some?”

Obviously the thought of home-baked cookies was enough to overcome Dani’s reservations about Caitlyn. “Sure.” Then she glanced hesitantly toward Emily. “You’re coming, too, right?”

“Absolutely,” she said, and followed the girls up the walkway.

When she spotted Marcie Carter waiting in the doorway, Emily couldn’t help smiling at the irony. In her fashionable linen slacks, silk blouse and expensive jewelry, she looked as if she ought to be Dani’s mom, not Caitlyn’s. Her makeup was flawless, every highlighted hair on her head was in place and her French manicure didn’t have a chip in it. Emily immediately felt as disheveled as little Caitlyn, but unlike the child she found herself apologizing.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, but the kids were so anxious to come by, I didn’t take time to change. I hope you weren’t getting ready to go out.”

“No, indeed. I’ve been baking cookies. Come in and have some. You’ll have to excuse the chaos, though. We’ve barely finished unpacking.”

Emily glanced around, looking for some evidence of chaos, but as near as she could tell this house was already a hundred times tidier than her own. There was a faint lingering scent of paint in the air, mingling with the far more appealing aromas of sugar and chocolate. The tile floor in the foyer had been replaced since she’d been here for a neighborhood cocktail party a couple of years ago. All of the carpets looked brand-new, as well. Every piece of furniture was in place, the pillows were plumped, fresh flowers filled huge, oversize vases in each room. If this was chaos, she wanted to know how to accomplish it.

“Do you mind sitting in the kitchen?” Marcie asked. “I’ll be able to keep an eye on the oven. I still have a few dozen cookies to bake for a PTA fund-raiser on Monday. The girls can take some cookies and milk onto the patio.”

“That sounds perfect,” Emily said, following her through the house. In the kitchen, she had to keep her mouth from dropping open. It looked like something out of a design magazine with its expensive cherry cabinets, black granite countertops and professional-grade stainless-steel appliances. Serious stuff must happen in this kitchen. It wasn’t meant for someone who threw a meal together at the last second, stuck frozen dinners into the microwave or baked cookies from refrigerated dough from the grocery store.

“How did you get roped into a bake sale when you’ve barely moved in?” she asked Marcie.

“I always volunteer at the kids’ school,” Marcie replied as she put chocolate-chip cookies onto a plate,
poured milk into two tall plastic glasses and artfully arranged it all on a tray. “Here you go, girls. Do you need any help?”

“I can carry it,” Dani told her, reaching for the tray.

“I can take my own,” Caitlyn countered, almost tipping everything onto the floor in her eagerness to grab a glass of milk.

“Maybe I’d better get them settled,” Marcie said, taking the tray from Dani, carrying it outside, then returning. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my Caitlyn has an independent streak. She spends so much time with her older brother that she doesn’t know her own limits.” Her expression turned wistful. “I wish she was as much of a little lady as your Dani.”

“Something tells me they’ll balance each other,” Emily said. “I’m so glad Dani finally has someone close to her age nearby and Josh was over the moon when he found out you had a son his age.”

“How long have you lived in the neighborhood?” Marcie asked as she efficiently scooped up perfectly rounded balls of dough and put another huge sheet of cookies into the oversize oven.

“About seven years now. Josh was two when we bought the house and Dani was still a baby.”

“You like it here?”

“Love it,” Emily said. “And it’s a great school district.”

“I can tell that already,” Marcie said. “I made it a point to meet Josh and Caitlyn’s teachers before we made the final decision to move. I wish the class sizes were a little smaller, but unfortunately unless you send the kids to private schools, you won’t find that anywhere anymore. That’s one of the reasons I like to volunteer. I figure the teachers can always use some extra help.”

“I can vouch for that, though most of the parents at the high school where I work are too busy with their jobs to get involved,” Emily lamented. “I have to struggle just to get them to take time off to come in for parent-teacher meetings.”

Marcie seemed surprised. “You teach at the high school?”

“Yes. I teach English,” Emily confirmed. “I was teaching when I got married and I went back to it once both of my kids were in school. Do you work?”