by Lilah Pace
Jonah takes a deep breath. “Yes. That night, I stayed at Vivienne’s. ”
“And where do you live in town, Ms. Charles?”
“South side, between South Congress and First. Over by Elizabeth’s, you know. ” I answer as calmly as I can, but I already know it would be better if at least one of Jonah’s alibis could be independently confirmed.
Bad Cop seems pleased. “So we only have her say-so for your whereabouts on the nights of both attacks. ”
“And mine,” Jonah says. “Cell phone records should back me up. ”
Of course! Cell phone records! I hadn’t thought of that. Granted, I’m not exactly sure how they work in criminal investigations, because I’ve gleaned most of what I know from episodes of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. But apparently the cell phone pings tell you which tower the phone was closest to at any given time. The evidence to clear Jonah is at hand.
Or so I think, until Bad Cop says, “Cell phone records only tell us where your phone was. Some people, they’re up to no good, they’ve realized they need to leave their phones behind. Or take a burner instead. ”
A burner is a cheap, prepaid phone you can ditch at a moment’s notice, according to Mariska Hargitay and Ice-T.
“Why are you questioning Jonah?” I ask. That’s the part of this I don’t get. “He wasn’t anywhere near either of those attacks. So it’s not like anyone could have seen him there. ”
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Good Cop looks sorrowful. “A concerned citizen came by the station. Had some interesting things to say. But—you know, lots of people say lots of stuff. Doesn’t mean they know a damn thing. And sometimes folks carry a grudge. You can be sure we check everything out thoroughly. ”
Jonah ought to look relieved. Even though Good Cop’s pleasant demeanor is only an act, he’s no doubt right about the cops looking into every possibility. That means Jonah’s bound to be cleared almost right away. It’s just bad luck that the Stalker has a build like his, or whatever it was that made some busybody suspect Jonah.
The police officers tell Jonah they’ll be in touch if they have further questions, then head on their way. As soon as the elevator doors slide shut, I turn to Jonah. “What the hell?”
I expect him to go, I know, it’s insane. Instead Jonah sinks down onto one of the bar stools at his kitchen island. He looks as bruised and weary as a boxer after twelve rounds.
“Jonah?” I walk to him, take his hand. “What is it?”
“I know who talked to the police. ” His voice is low. “Her name is Sunny Harris. ”
“Who is she?” Realization begins to dawn. “An ex?”
He nods, miserable. “We went out about two years ago. She’s a tennis coach at one of the local high schools, or she was. Now, I have no idea. We had fun, she seemed game for anything, and so—after a few months together—I told her about my fantasy. ”
The first time we ever spoke about this, Jonah told me he’d tried to act out these games with a couple of other women. Then I was so flustered by his approach I couldn’t think past the forbidden thrill that rushed through me when he said no other girl had ever wanted it rough. He thought that was exactly how I wanted it. He was right.
But now I have to think about this man I need so badly playing our games with someone else.
That was long before you ever met, I tell myself. Snap out of it. “So, um, I guess when you guys tried to play, Sunny freaked out. ”
“I don’t know what she thought I meant. ” Jonah leans his elbow on the counter, his forehead in his hand. “That’s one reason I wanted to be so completely clear with you. With Sunny, I believed she understood, and holy shit, was I wrong. It wasn’t like I even—well. It wasn’t anything that crazy, not by our standards. But I really wanted to play the scenario out fully, and Sunny believed it would be more of a joke. So as soon as we started, it turned into a total disaster. I stopped the moment she asked, but it didn’t matter. She said she wasn’t afraid of me, that she knew we’d just failed to work things out with the scenario in advance—but she didn’t stay the night. Broke up with me the next day, which by then I was expecting. ”
“That was a consensual fantasy you tried to share with her. Why would she take that to the police?”
“Because Sunny thinks I’m a man who gets off on the idea of forcing a woman, and she’s right. ” His smile can be angrier than any other man’s frown. “No, I would never cross that line. I’d die first. But Sunny doesn’t know that. All she knows is that she saw my dark side the day before she bolted. When she heard the news of the latest attacks, she put two and two together and got five. ”
I want to be furious with this mysterious woman who’s put Jonah under a cloud of suspicion, but I can’t be. Sunny was trying to protect other women. She doesn’t know the truth about Jonah, only enough to cloud her judgment.
So I lean against Jonah. “They’ll realize you’re innocent. The real Stalker will get caught, and this will blow over. ”
“I know I’m not going to be convicted for this. ”
“Yes. Exactly. DNA evidence will clear you, if nothing else. ”
“The cops didn’t mention DNA evidence,” Jonah says. “The guy might’ve worn a condom. ”
“Or maybe they just haven’t gotten the test results from the rape kits back yet. ” Some municipalities put off testing rape kits for months or years on end. It’s disgraceful. “Either way, like you said, you’ll be cleared. You’ll be fine. ”
“Fine? That’s the one thing I’m not going to be. ” Jonah pulls away from me to slide off the bar stool and pace along the wall of windows that look out on Austin at night. “This fantasy—I might not need it every single time, like you do, but I need it. I do. And I hate it. Even now, when you and I are able to share this the only way it should ever be shared, it’s still so goddamned sick. ”
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He’s not saying anything I haven’t thought, in almost exactly the same words. But I won’t let him torture himself the way I do. “Hey. Remember what I said? You don’t hurt me. You help me. Acting out this fantasy—sharing it together, openly, and understanding why—that’s the least sick thing about it. ”
Jonah gives me a dark look. “It’s sure as hell not healthy. ”
“My therapist says totally normal, mentally healthy people are as fictional as the unicorn. We’re all bent. Just in different ways. ”
He laughs despite himself. “I think I’d like your therapist. ”
Should I recommend Doreen to Jonah? Or would that create some eternal ouroboros of dysfunction? I’ll decide later.
For now, I simply walk to Jonah and put my arms around him. This time he doesn’t dodge the embrace; instead he holds me tightly, tenderly, as I feel his warm breath against my hair.
“Thank you,” he says. “For earlier. I didn’t even get the chance to say that. ”
Only thirty minutes ago, I was trying to give Jonah a blowjob a few feet away. Just days ago, he had me captive—completely under his erotic spell. It all feels so far away now.
But Jonah doesn’t. As confused as we might be about our sexual bond, we know how deeply we care for each other. What we feel will see us through.
I have to believe that.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Got any plans for Christmas?”
The sudden switch in topic surprises him. “No. ”
“You won’t be going back to Chicago?”
“That’s out of the question. If Elise or Rebecca were going to be there, Maddox and I might try to do something on our own, away from our parents. But Rebecca is in Belize—”
“Belize? On vacation?” I guess there are worse places for an escape from Chicago’s winter.
But Jonah shakes his head. “She’s a botanist, which means she goes on field surveys from time to time. ”
Brother and sister both became globe-trotting scientists: At first I think that’s adorable, and nearly say so, but then I realize—both Jonah and Rebecca chose a wa
y of life that would take them as far from home as possible. They wanted to escape that badly. Instead I ask about his stepsister. “And Elise?”
“She’s in New York. We did Christmas there together one year, right after she’d moved to the city, and it was . . . you know, it was good. ” The shadow of a smile passes over Jonah’s face, too briefly. “Then she started dating this total son of a bitch. He’s bad to her, bad for her. I can’t be around them when they’re together, and every time one of us tells her to dump the loser, Elise just clings to him tighter. So New York’s not an option either. Maddox has to stay in Chicago for his club, because the Orchid’s New Year’s Eve party has become a local legend. That leaves me here. ”
“No it doesn’t. ” I caress his arm with my hand. “Come to New Orleans with me. ”
Jonah should have been expecting me to say that, but he wasn’t. “I didn’t think you’d go home. ”
“Anthony’s gone this year, remember? Hopefully forever. ” For a moment, all my worries about police suspicion and the Stalker are eclipsed by the pure, shining joy of knowing I finally get to spend Christmas Day without my rapist.
“I remember. But your mother and sister—have they ever acknowledged they were wrong? I don’t understand how you can be around them if they haven’t. ”
“I kind of got in the habit after I had to keep living in that house for the next four years. ” When I slide around to the other side of the table to face Jonah, I see how hard and set Jonah’s features have become. His anger would be intimidating if I didn’t know who all that pent-up fury is for. “You lived in a house like that too, Jonah. You know what it’s like. ”
“And I got the fuck out of it as soon as I could. I want you out of there too. ” Jonah reaches for me, splays his warm hand over mine. “You deserve better than that. ”
“Since when did life start giving us what we deserved?”
He gives me a look. “We could go anywhere, you know. ”
The offer is genuine. Jonah’s late father cofounded Oceanic Airlines; we could fly to Fiji tomorrow if we wanted. Maybe Switzerland. For a moment I’m tempted by visions of Jonah and me spending Christmas Day beneath the palms on a South Pacific beach, or nestled in a chalet after playing in the snow. Never in my life have I had a white Christmas . . .
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But no. “Dad’s still recovering, and spending Christmas with him—just after I thought I might lose him—it’s important to me. ” A thought occurs to me and makes me wince. “Do you think the police would think it was suspicious? You leaving town?”
Jonah shrugs. “They didn’t tell me I couldn’t. ”
Can he really be that unworried? No, of course not. But Jonah sometimes works through things like this, simply refusing to look at the obstacles in the way. If he’s not going to worry about the cops’ reaction, I won’t either.
I say, “You know, this will be the first time in my life I’ll be able to spend entire days with Libby without Anthony being around. If you’re there too, this will be the absolute best Christmas of my life. ”
How can a man so fierce smile so gently? “Then I’ll be there. ”
• • •
My final task before leaving town is proctoring an exam—which, of course, is scheduled for the very latest testing period on the last day of the semester. I reach campus about half an hour before the exam starts, so I decide to swing by the department office and drop off my jacket and purse. Besides, I want to grab a few more peppermints. Turns out you never know when you’ll need one.
As I walk in, Kip whirls around in his swivel chair. “Oh—my—God. You’re here. ”
“What?” He looks so shocked I expect him to tell me the dean died or something.
Kip glances around the office; apparently Professor Prasanna is in, because he glares at her door and turns up the radio, treating everyone within earshot to a country music version of “Away in a Manger. ” Then he leans close to me and said, “I thought you’d be with Jonah. Or have you run away? Are you safe? If you feel unsafe, just say so. Or nod. If he threatened you if you say anything, just nod. ”
At another time, I might be amused or moved by Kip’s would-be rescue. As it is, I’m appalled. “Jonah hasn’t threatened me! He hasn’t hurt anyone. ”
Kip folds his arms in front of his chest. The fuchsia My Little Pony Band-Aids on his hand clash with his neon orange manicure. “That’s not what the police think. ”
I want to scream. “Was it online? On the news?”
“What? No. He’s not even at person-of-interest level yet. No chance the police would release his name to the public. ”
“Then how do you know?”
“Why do you still doubt my sources? Do you really want to know how high it goes?”
Usually Kip’s secretiveness amuses me. Not today. “Yes. I want to know. If you’re helping spread a really ugly lie about Jonah Marks? You’re damned straight I’m going to find out ‘how high it goes. ’ And if you won’t tell me, I’ll learn who will. ”
“Whoa, whoa, hold it. ” Kip holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m not spreading anything. All right? I heard what I heard, and I figured you either already knew or needed to. ”
“Tell me who told you. ” I didn’t know I could be this angry at Kip. It’s not like I’d ever hit him, or anyone, but right now I feel like I could rip the blinking blue lights from his desk. Kick down a wall. Something, anything, that would vent some of the fury I feel at hearing Jonah slandered.
In a lower voice, Kip says, “Ryan’s brother Tommy is a police officer working on the case. I was at Ryan’s place when he came by last night. Tommy didn’t refer to Jonah by name, but—he mentioned the ex who’d reported this mystery man was a tennis coach. Also he said the guy was a professor at the university, so he might’ve had contact with the students who were attacked. Also said the suspect was someone with enough money to get a legal ‘dream team,’ so the force wants to have an airtight case before they move. I knew from my contacts in the athletics department that a local tennis coach of the blond and comely variety briefly went out with a certain someone in earth sciences. So obviously Tommy could only have been talking about Jonah. ”
Small mercies: That wouldn’t have been obvious to anybody less all-knowing than Kip, except possibly Jonah himself. At least foul gossip about Jonah isn’t making its way around campus—but the situation’s even worse than gossip. The police are focusing their attention on Jonah, hard, probably for lack of other leads. Not only does that mean more harassment in Jonah’s future, but it also means the cops aren’t getting any closer to catching the real Austin Stalker.
“It’s not Jonah,” I say. “I know that, absolutely, one hundred percent. Both nights attacks happened, he was with me. ”
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Kip breathes out in relief. The cops might doubt my alibi, but he doesn’t. “Last night I could hardly sleep for fear. I would’ve texted you, but Ryan wouldn’t let me. Thank God everything’s all right. ”
“It’s anything but all right! You make it sound like the police have already decided he’s guilty!”
“They said they wanted an airtight case, remember?” Kip helps himself to a Hershey’s kiss wrapped in green foil. “They can’t get that if he’s not guilty. So he’ll be cleared sooner or later. ”
“Ever seen a news story about someone getting out of prison after 30 years because DNA evidence finally cleared them? Innocent people can be convicted, Kip. It might not happen often, but it happens. ” I lean against his desk, weak with exhaustion and horror.
Kip, on the other hand, has cheered up considerably. “One truth of our justice system—usually a horribly unfair truth—works to our advantage in this case. Innocent people are indeed convicted from time to time. But innocent rich people? Not so much. ”
Okay, he has a point there. But while prison might be the worst potential consequence of this meaningless witch hunt, it’s not the only trouble Jonah could face. �
�What happens if this spreads around campus, though? Just being a suspect could ruin his life. Rumors like that could keep him from getting tenure. Discourage top students from coming to UT to work with him. Alienate him from the few friends he has. ”
Kip reaches out with both hands to take mine; his manicure puts my ragged nails to shame. “I swear to you, I’m the only person on campus who knows anything about this. And if I hear any rumors—and believe me, I would hear—I’ll stomp them like cockroaches. We’ll make sure the record is set straight. ”
If anyone can do it, Kip can. The knot of tension in my chest loosens slightly, and I feel as if I can breathe again. “Okay. Thank you. ”
After all that, I need something to brace me. The department’s new, top-notch coffee machine beckons, complete with its shiny foil packets offering me any number of caffeine options. A mocha sounds about right—the oomph of coffee and the comfort of chocolate. It’s still eleven whole minutes before I have to be in the exam room; that’s enough time to recharge.
As I stand in the tiny break room watching the machine brew my mocha, Kip walks in behind me. Although he picks up one of the paper cups, like he’s here for coffee too, we both know better.
We stand there awkwardly for several seconds, staring at the stupid plastic stirrers, before Kip says, quietly, “Why do you think the coach told the police to suspect Jonah?”
“I—” What is the smallest sliver of the truth that will work? “They broke up badly. ”
“I’d heard they weren’t even together that long. And making your ex a suspect in a criminal investigation? That’s pretty high-octane revenge. Like, one step removed from Jodi Arias. ”
“It wasn’t about revenge, I don’t think. ” While I don’t want any creepy false rumors about Jonah to circulate around campus, I also don’t want to slander this woman I never met, who almost certainly thinks her suspicions are legitimate.
Kip purses his lips. “Then why?”
The machine finishes making my coffee. As the last drops of mocha fall into my cup, I take it in both hands. Warmth radiates through my palms; until now, I hadn’t realized how cold my fingers had become.
This is Kip’s cue to start making his own drink, which he does. Nor does he press me for an answer to his last question. But just as I’m walking out of the break room, he says, “The hottest ones always have a dark side, don’t they?”