Thinking it might be best if he put in a call to Grady, he asked Bentley if he knew where the telephone was.
“Who are you going to call, Sheriff? The Lone Ranger? This is your town; it’s up to you to protect the innocent citizens of Sweetwater. Not only from harm, but from speculation.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just think. Miss Eve. Isn’t she engaged to John Worthington. The John Worthington?” Bentley asked.
“I suppose I’ve heard that around town a time or two. But what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Everything. You know how her family suffered after Buzz died in that damned car crash. The poor woman hasn’t been given a break in this lifetime. And now, Mr. John Worthington, distinguished gentleman, prominent businessman, wants to marry her.” Bentley sounded envious.
“I don’t get it, Mr. Bentley. What I do get is this: I’ve got a dead body upstairs growing colder by the minute, a young girl and her mother in shock. Miss Eve’s social standing is the least of my worries.”
“Then listen. A young girl kills her stepbrother after, mind you, after he’s raped her. Repeatedly. I know, Sheriff, her momma knows, and I’m sure you do. What the young girl did up there was nothing more than a favor for some other innocent girl. The state, too. And you ask just what Mr. John Worthington has to do with this.” He paused long enough to reach into his immaculate white shirt pocket for another cigarette.
“Go on,” Parker urged.
“If he chose, why he could have this case all over every paper in the South, and the television, too. I bet with his clout he could even get on the Today show.”
“And what’s that mean to me?” Parker asked.
“What it means, son, is he’d have every law enforcement agency this side of the Mason-Dixon Line up your ass. You’d be out in the cold like a snowman on Christmas in Alaska.”
“Bentley, why don’t you just come out and say what you want. I ain’t in no mood for games. Like I said, I got a body up there.” He nodded in the direction of the stairs.
“I’m just trying to protect the ladies, that’s all. And you.”
“Then talk fast, cause I’ve got to call Doc Hunter down here to view the body since he’s acting coroner.” Parker’s hands were shaking. Hell, maybe Bentley was on to something. But he wondered why the man was so concerned. Did he and Miss Eve . . . ? No, she was engaged.
“Actually, what we’ve got here is a clear case of self-defense. Casey plunged the letter opener into her stepbrother’s throat because he raped her. According to Miss Eve, they’d had a scuffle in the shed earlier. Casey attacked him with a garden spike. He must’ve followed her to her room. It’s simple son, really. All you need to do is fill out the necessary paperwork and put this behind you. Then Miss Edwards and her daughter can go on with their lives.”
Parker thought about it. Bentley had a point. Ronnie had always been an evil little son of a bitch anyway.
“What about the girl? I saw her upstairs. I might not be nothing more than a country sheriff, but I know shock when I see it, and that girl’s definitely in shock.”
“I thought of that, too.” Bentley’s voice rose in excitement.
Parker wondered if there was anything he hadn’t thought of.
“As director of Sanctuary I have the authority to admit the girl. We’ll have one of our staff psychiatrists evaluate her. She’d be free to remain in the care and comfort provided by Sanctuary as long as needed. Free of charge.”
“I don’t know Bentley. Ain’t that breaking the law or something?”
“Of course not. As I said, we’d, you’d be doing the fine state of Georgia a tremendous service, never mind the money you could save the taxpayers. Actually, Parker, you could be a true hero for this. I’m sure when Casey recovers she’d feel indebted to you. If you know what I mean.” Bentley laughed.
“God, how can you laugh at a time like this? I don’t know. It ain’t right.” Parker paced the room, sweat dampening his armpits.
“Then let me ask you this, son. Would it be right to send poor Casey to the Georgia State Women’s Penitentiary? I’ve heard those women are worse than some of the most hardened criminals. Why they’d probably do far worse to the young girl than what crazy Ronnie ever did. I’d just hate to see the girl go to prison, that’s all.” Bentley stood, shoved his hands in his pockets, and went to the kitchen, where Eve waited.
Parker thought about all he said. And he was right. Casey didn’t deserve to go to prison for killing Ronnie.
He went to the kitchen in search of Bentley.
“Where do I start?” Parker asked, his voice weak and unsure.
Robert Bentley’s eyes lit up, reminding him of the evil glint carved in the eye of the pumpkin he’d seen on the front porch.
He whispered to Eve before leaving the kitchen. Parker watched him. Something about the guy gave him the willies, but he’d think about that later. Now he needed his help so Casey wouldn’t go to prison, and Miss Eve wouldn’t die of shock.
“Listen to me, son.” Bentley took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, found it empty, and tossed the crumpled package on the coffee table before speaking.
Parker wished like hell the man would stop calling him son. He wasn’t old enough to be his father.
“You write your report. You’ll say something like this: Vera received a call from Miss Eve, who was in hysterics. Make sure to put that in there somewhere. Write down what you did. You went upstairs, saw Casey with the letter opener, wearing those bloodstained clothes. Put in there Casey told you Ronnie raped her and wanted to kill her. That’s important, son, get that in there. Just in case.”
Parker stopped writing and looked at Bentley. “In case of what?”
“Anything. This has to look like self-defense.”
“But I thought you said it was self-defense? Isn’t that why I’m writing this bogus report? To save the ladies from I think the word you used was speculation.”
“The report isn’t bogus, son. Why you can see for yourself the girl’s been ravaged. She must’ve snapped. Eve said something to me when I arrived. Add this to your report, too. She said something told her this isn’t the first time this happened to Casey.”
“Good God, Bentley! Why in the hell hasn’t she reported it? Why is the bastard still in this house?” Parker shouted.
“Shhh, you’ll frighten those poor women more than they are already.”
“Sorry. I can’t understand if her mother thought someone was messin’ with her, why in hell didn’t she do something about it?”
“She didn’t say she knew for sure, Parker. I don’t think she’s in her right mind just now. I’m sure nothing like this happened to the girl before. Forget about it, don’t put that in your report. Her mother wouldn’t tolerate it; it has to be Eve’s imagination. You know shock and all.”
“I’ve got to get the . . . body out of here. I’ll call Doc Hunter.”
Bentley grabbed him by the sleeve as he stood to go to the kitchen to make the call. “Don’t do that!” Robert demanded. “He’s the last person we need in on this.”
“He’s the coroner until next month. I have to call him.” Parker looked at Bentley’s hand on his sleeve and pushed it away.
“All right, but listen up. Whatever you do don’t call him until that body is . . . is bagged. Doc Hunter’s getting too old for this. I wouldn’t want him to have a heart attack. You know, seeing what’s upstairs.”
Parker agreed. He didn’t want to be responsible for the old doctor’s death. He could barely stand the sight himself, and he was supposed to be somewhat immune to it all.
Right.
“Then let’s do it.” Parker inhaled, bracing himself for the sight upstairs. He remembered reading about the Tate murders and all the blood and wondered if they were comparable. Casey’s bedroom looked like a slaughterhouse.
“You work on the report while I”—Bentley’s evil glare rolled up toward the ceiling—“get him ready.�
��
Parker nodded, sick to his stomach. Everything he’d learned, right down the tube. He could go to jail for tampering with a crime scene. Then he remembered Casey. That poor girl hadn’t made a sound in the last fifteen minutes. He tossed his notebook on the table and went to the top of the staircase. She remained huddled in the corner, only now she was shaking uncontrollably. Parker took his windbreaker off, placing it around her thin shoulders. He felt a twinge of satisfaction. The bastard deserved what he’d got.
“Casey,” he whispered. Nothing. Her eyes were glassy and huge. She looked at him, and Parker knew she didn’t see him.
“C’mon, hon, let’s get you out of here.” Parker helped Casey into a standing position, and, with his arms around her for support, they went downstairs. She paused when they reached the landing.
Knowing now wasn’t the time to question her, he adjusted the large windbreaker around her shoulders and led her out the front door.
Buddy Barrenton from the Sweetwater Sentinel greeted them with the flash of his camera.
“Everyone stand back. And Buddy, get that camera out of here!”
Parker lifted Casey in his arms and took her to his cruiser, not caring that half of Sweetwater watched him. He refused to lock her in the backseat like a caged animal. He opened the car door and gently positioned her in the passenger seat.
“Vera! Get down to the jail. Now!” he shouted over his shoulder.
And he’d left that son of a bitch Bentley to clean up the mess. He knew now that after he left, Bentley sent for two orderlies, who came in an ambulance provided by Sanctuary. They removed Ronnie’s body, taking him over to the funeral parlor. They never discussed that day again. For several weeks there’d been questions. He explained to everyone in authority the version he and Bentley agreed on. After a while the talk died down, but the suspicion remained.
Now with the help of Walter Watts and the two docs, Parker was about to stir up trouble. He knew all hell was about to break loose.
Chapter 25
Casey paced back and forth in her room. She wished she could have stayed downstairs with Julie and Flora, but Julie had to go home, and Flora wanted to go to bed early. So here she was, alone, walking up and down her bedroom, wringing her hands.
The scarlet numbers on the bedside clock glared at her. Ten o’clock. Blake promised he’d come back after his visit with Adam. Her heart raced at the thought of their planned midnight stroll.
She sat down on the bed and tried to relax, but couldn’t. She felt uneasy, as if something was about to happen—something she had no control over. She wondered if her stepfather had already died. She did her best to drive the thought out of her mind.
Her mother remained a mystery to her. Her treatment of Flora was shocking. When Casey tried to apologize to Flora, Flora brushed it off by saying her momma was ill and she needed to keep that in mind. Which brought up another entire line of questions. If her mother was so ill, how could she possibly operate Worthington Enterprises? What did ill mean to Flora?
And Ronnie? Now, she remembered him all too clearly. When she tried to ward off the flood of memories, she was unsuccessful. They came on fast, like a movie reel and they were so very vivid and so very real . . . again, now . . .
After school or maybe after going to see Doc, she was leaving. If that didn’t work out, she would leave after dark when they were all asleep. She was going to Atlanta. She had a copy of the bus schedule in her top drawer. She’d get a job, maybe as a waitress or cashier at Walmart. When she’d saved enough money she would go to college. She would take care of herself and never have to worry about being hurt again.
She’d tried to tell her mother about Ronnie, but she was always busy and didn’t want to listen. Her mother never had time for her. She was either running over to Mr. Worthington’s or off with that creep Mr. Bentley. She didn’t understand how her mother could stand the man, or why they were even friends. He was as crazy as the patients at the nuthouse he worked in.
She thought about the “other thing” as she now referred to it. She would take care of that, too. No one would ever have to know. Doc Hunter would help her. No matter what, she would keep her appointment with him.
She’d miss Flora, but she would send her letters and maybe once she found a place and got settled in, Flora could come for a visit. Sometimes she thought Flora knew exactly what went on in the house, especially after her humiliating visit to Dr. Hunter’s office when she was nine.
That had been the first time. God, she’d wanted to die! Her mother was off on one of her “dates.” She’d been lying on her bed reading her favorite author, Carolyn Keene. It was hot, and she’d taken off her pants. All she wore were her new pink panties that read “Friday” and an oversized T-shirt with a faded picture of Elvis across the front, a handme-down from Flora.
At first when he’d peeked in her room, she ignored him. After several minutes she’d put her book down and sat up on her bed.
“I know you’re out there spyin’ on me Ronnie. You jus’ leave me alone, ya hear?” She shouted at the door, knowing he lurked right behind it.
He laughed at her. “Uh, no Miss Nose-in-Book I cain’t hear ya.” He laughed again, but this time he opened the door and peered into her room.
“Get out Ron!” Casey said. She never understood why someone his age wasn’t out hangin’ with the guys. He was too weird, and he made her nervous. She hadn’t ever warmed up to her stepbrother the way Momma had.
“Well, now look at you.” His beady eyes raked her over, and Casey wished she’d kept her jeans on. She tucked her legs beneath her, thankful for the large shirt that covered her bottom and thighs.
He kept staring at her, his eyes glassy. She suddenly felt afraid. Ronnie looked different, and his breathing was funny. He walked closer to the bed and looked down at her. Inching her way against the wall, she wanted to scream for Momma, but remembered she’d gone out.
“What’s a matter, girl? You don’t like Ronnie here in your room?” He sat next to her on the bed.
For the first time in her nine years, Casey knew what it was like to experience real, honest-to-goodness fear.
“Get out, Ronnie, or I’m gonna tell Momma when she gets back.”
“Do you think Momma gives a crap, Casey girl? Why hell no. You know what your momma’s doing about right now?” Ronnie leaned right in her face. His breath smelled like onions, and she held her breath to keep from gagging.
“Your momma’s gettin’ fucked by Mr. Bentley.” Ronnie threw his head back and laughed. “Ever wonder what that’s like, Casey girl?” He stood up and unbuckled his belt.
Hot tears rolled down her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed she would disappear, prayed Ronnie would just get out of her room and leave her alone, prayed her momma would come home from her date and send Ronnie back to those people who never wanted him in the first place.
The swoosh sound of his zipper made her heart pound. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know the soft thud she heard on the floor was his britches landing in a pile. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know he was lying beside her. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know what the hand that reached for the elastic on her new Friday panties was about to do. And she didn’t need to sneak a quick peek at momma’s True Story magazines to know what Ronnie was doing with his penis.
Jesus Lord! All those years ago, and she’d never told anyone about that day. And now nine years later it was finally coming to an end. Tonight. No more hiding in the closets, no more nights spent lying awake in terror while she waited for him to come to her room.
Never again.
She heard Momma come in probably from another date with Mr. Worthington. No, it was too early. Once Momma had taken her to that huge mansion and made her wait outside while she visited with Mr. Worthington. She never could understand why she wasn’t allowed inside. Casey didn’t think it was Mr. Worthington that didn’t want her inside, but her mother. But who cared anyway. She was leaving tomorro
w.
She heard voices downstairs and cracked open the door to hear them.
“You ain’t nothin’ but a whore, Eve. I know what you’re up to. And it ain’t gonna happen. You ain’t gonna leave here to take care of that slut upstairs. No, ma’am, Miss High-and-Mighty, it ain’t a gonna happen,” Ronnie screeched.
“Why don’t you just shut up! You’re too old to be living here in the first place. I practically had to beg John to give you a job at the paper mill. I heard you left today. Why, Ronald? What more do you want from me?”
Ronnie’s wicked laughed traveled up the stairs. “You know what I want. I want what you been givin’ to Bentley and Worthington.”
Casey heard a crash as something was hurled to the floor. “Listen,” her mother’s voice was dead calm, “I know what you’ve been doing all these years. Don’t think for a minute I don’t.”
Suddenly Casey’s heart slammed into her rib cage so hard she thought it would explode.
Her mother knew! And she’d done nothing!
Casey opened the door wider. “Yeah, old woman, I know you knew about me ’n’ Casey girl. And I’m thinkin’ while you laid in that there bed of yours you jus’ mighta liked hearing us.” Ronnie laughed again.
He was insane, Casey thought. And maybe her mother was, too.
Ronnie’s next words caused her to bolt upright in her bed. She listened.
“You know she went to visit Doc Hunter today?”
“Who told you that?” her mother asked.
“I didn’t have to be told. I followed her. Hell, I sat right in that dumb doctor’s office and listened at the top of the stairs. She was knocked up, all right. I was thinkin’ of runnin’ over to Swan House, before she stabbed me. I thought ol’ John might want to know what kinda woman he’d be marryin’.” Another hysterical laugh from her demented brother.
“You wouldn’t dare!” her mother shrieked.
“Oh, yes I would. Yes, I would. Matter a fact, I been thinkin’ about limpin’ over there later. Maybe tomorrow morning. After me ’n’ Casey, well, you know tonight.” Casey heard the back door slam and took a deep breath, hoping to calm her pounding pulse.
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