Betrayed

by Wodke Hawkinson

  “Just a second,” he said, and picked up the phone.

  In a flurry of activity, a side door opened and several people hurried toward Brook. A tall woman in a dark suit extended her hand as the others, some in uniform, stood back.

  “I’m Detective Randi Conroy,” she said. “You’re Brooklyn Parrish?”

  “Yes, I am.” Brook found the detective’s handshake comforting somehow, warmer than she expected. Strong, confident. Brook felt immediately at ease with her.

  “Come with me, please, Mrs. Parrish.” She led Brook through the door into the inner sanctum, down a hallway, and into a conference room. The detective nodded at the other people who waited by the door. “Get Marco down here. Bring me the Parrish file. And shut the door.”

  Once they were alone in the room, the detective simply stared at Brook for a long time.

  “Well,” she said, her face impassive. “I guess the first question is where have you been?”

  “It’s a long story, Detective,” Brook began.

  “I bet it is. And I can’t wait to hear it,” Detective Conroy said. “You have no idea how happy it makes me when a missing person turns up alive and well. But, on the other hand, I'm going to need some answers. How about something to drink? Coke okay?” At Brook’s nod, she picked up the phone and asked someone to bring a couple of drinks.

  “Okay, I’m all ears.” The door opened and a woman brought in two cans of soda and set them on the table, staring at Brook with unabashed curiosity. From under her arm, she pulled a file which she placed into Randi’s outstretched hand. Still ogling Brook, she backed out of the conference room and closed the door behind her.

  Randi handed Brook a can of cola and took one herself. The phone on the table rang and Randi picked it up, listened for a moment, and then hung up.

  “My partner, Marco, is on his way in. It’ll be a little while. You’re going to get tired of telling your story before it’s all said and done. But, this first time through, just give me the basics, okay?”

  Brook pulled out her drawings and spread them on the table.

  “These people abducted me and held me captive.”

  As Brook told her tale, Randi picked up the sketches and looked them over. She raised her eyebrows when she reached the one of Gina but made no comment.

  Brook wanted to protect Lance. When she reached his part of the story, she skirted around the identity of her rescuer. She would only say she was kept safe until the weather permitted her return. Randi looked skeptical but didn’t push the issue at this point.

  “You know, your husband was frantic when you disappeared. He was convinced early on that you had met with foul play. I wasn’t so sure. At least not until this young woman,” Randi tapped the sketch of Gina, “showed up on an ATM camera trying to use your credit card.”

  “She did? Did you catch her?” Brook exclaimed.

  “No, but we’re still looking.” She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Your husband had no idea where you’d gone so he wasn’t much help at all. In fact, he was so upset we thought we might have to hospitalize him.”

  He didn’t know where I’d gone? Brook felt a cold knowledge settle on her. “What did he say exactly? I mean, when he contacted you?”

  “He said you had probably gone shopping but he had no idea where. We didn’t even know where to start looking. I’m telling you, the man was a basket case.” Randi didn’t seem to notice Brook’s rigid posture or frozen expression. The phone rang, and Randi took the call. When she hung up, she turned her gaze to Brook once again.

  “Now, I’m sorry to make you start all over, but we need to record this. Let me get things set up and bring Marco up to speed. I promise we’ll try not to keep you too long.” Randi left Brook alone in the room. Inside, Brook’s mind was flipping switches and making connections, veering from disbelief to rage and back to disbelief again. Finally, shock descended and held her in its numbing grasp.

  Randi returned with a slender young detective in tow, his dark hair neatly parted and combed, and his tanned face wearing a serious expression.

  “This is Marco,” Randi said. “My partner. Marco, meet Brook Parrish.” They shook hands and Brook saw compassion in his brown eyes. Marco removed his suit jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. As he sat, he loosened his tie.

  Another officer entered with a video camera and set it up on a tripod while Marco explained the process to Brook.

  “Mrs. Parrish, we want to videotape your statement for the record and get as much information from you as possible so we don’t have to drag you through this too many times. I know it’s difficult, but try to relax and just answer the questions as best you can.” Brook nodded.

  Somehow she made it through the next few hours. As Randi walked her to the door she gave Brook a sympathetic smile. “I know you’ve been through a horrible ordeal, and I assure you I will do everything in my power to track these monsters down. What you need to do is go home and put to rest your family’s worries. Let them know you’re safe now. We’ll be in contact.” Randi turned back into the station with a purposeful step as Brook stepped outside.

  Brook carried photocopies of the sketches and her journal writings. The camera she left behind in the capable hands of the detectives. Now, she just wanted to get home. She needed to see Clark; she needed her suspicions allayed. Until she had answers, she wasn’t willing to tell the police that Clark had misled them. She could still give him the benefit of the doubt. She hoped in his panic he had simply forgotten he had sent her for the book. She hoped to find he had a good reason for misleading the authorities and effectively sabotaging the search. But she didn’t really believe it.

  She settled into the back of the cab with a weary sigh. The long bus ride, the hours at the police station reliving the details of her abduction and captivity, and the suspicion churning in her mind had turned her nerves raw. And, she missed Lance. At the heart of it all, there was that yearning. It’s been a horrible day. And it’s not over yet.

  At the guard house, Brook rolled down her window and spoke quietly to a surprised Jerry. He agreed to protect her privacy and not to mention to anyone that she had returned. Brook knew she could trust him; she knew he wouldn’t jump on the phone and spread the news. When she reached home, she stepped from the taxi, weary and torn by conflict.

  Brook reached the front door and keyed in their security code. She half expected it to be changed, but it wasn’t. She walked into her home for the first time in months. Breathing in the familiar smell, she was surprised to find it held no comfort. Nor did she find solace in the surroundings as she looked around her. Moving through the house, she touched one thing after another, feeling nothing for any of the items. This had always been Clark’s home, the place they had gone to get away from the memories of their lost baby, the place where they would supposedly heal their grief and reconnect to each other. Now, Brook suspected they had only put up fronts. Artificial bright facades to hide the emptiness. Sadness filled her as she waited for the encounter with her husband.

  She thought about taking a shower and changing her clothes, but discarded the idea. If she put her arms to her nose, she could still discern, very faintly, the scent of Lance’s cologne. How tacky, she thought, to reunite with my husband while the scent of my lover still lingers on my skin. But, I don’t care.

  She went to the kitchen and fixed a sandwich from some leftover ham in the refrigerator. Sitting at the kitchen table, she looked out the patio doors over the lawn as she ate. The last remnants of snow shrank against the fence where it was shady. She felt her eyes glaze with tears. This homecoming was not as she had imagined it would be.

  The mechanical whine of the garage door opener warned her Clark was home. She took a final sip of her beverage and stood. Nervously, she waited for Clark to appear in the doorway, her heart pounding in anticipation of this long-awaited moment.

  The door opened and then there was Clark. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her and his face paled. The
briefcase fell from his hand and landed with a dull smack on the tile floor. He reached one hand to his cheek and his mouth dropped open.

  “Brook? Oh my god! Brook?”

  Chapter 51

  Lance went directly back to the cabin after watching Brook disappear from his life. He parked in his usual spot, haphazardly covered his truck, and walked with determination up the mountain. He would get on with his life; he’d go back to the time before he had found Brook in the forest. It wouldn't be easy; in fact, it might even be impossible. Brooklyn Cheyenne had made an indelible mark on him. He would never forget her.

  At home, Lance set about doing his chores. He let Gilbert out and mucked her pen. She seemed to sense his dark mood and didn’t frisk about as usual. Holding a tight lid on his feelings, Lance kept moving, handling one chore after another. He fed the chickens and the few ducks that remained, and chopped more wood, since the nights were still chilly. Not wishing to spend time inside, where everything reminded him of Brook, he found one project after another that required his attention outside. Finally, exhausted, he entered his home, made a light supper, and sat down to read, but found his thoughts wandering.

  Chapter 52

  In that odd first moment, Brook noticed how much Clark had aged. They stared at each other as if under a spell.

  Then, Clark rushed to Brook and took her in his arms. He was weeping. Tears welled up in her eyes, but a part of her stayed distant. His touch, familiar as it was, seemed strange to her now. She let him hold her but gave nothing in return. He didn’t seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

  “You’re alive! How? When? Oh god, Brook, where have you been? Where have you been all this time?” Clark pulled back from her, looked at her, and then pulled her close to him again. His shoulders heaved several times. Sniffling, he released her and walked to the counter for a paper towel. Mopping his eyes and wiping his nose, he stared at her in astonishment.

  “I thought you were dead. I thought they’d killed you,” he blurted, then covered his eyes with his hands. “I mean, I thought someone…”

  “Who, Clark? Who did you think killed me?” Brook’s voice was harsh. Tears shone in her eyes.

  Clark stammered for a moment. “I’m in shock. I don’t know what I’m saying. You took me by surprise. Give me a minute; let me get my bearings.”

  “No! You slipped and said something you didn’t mean to. I want to know more about it. Who did you think killed me? Maybe Jase? Or Benny?” Her voice rose in volume. “Your buddies?”

  Clark’s shoulders sagged. “Oh god.” He held his hands to his temples, as if his head might explode. The confession bubbled to the surface and burst out. “I’m so sorry, Brook. I got in way over my head. You weren’t supposed to be hurt! It was just the car. They were supposed to take the car while you were inside the bookstore.”

  A great weight seemed to fall from his shoulders. "I'm glad it's out in the open. I've carried this burden all these months, and it's made me sick. Just sick, I tell you."

  Brook shook her head, trying to absorb the shock. Although her subconscious had been preparing her for this moment, it still rocked her to her very core. Clarkwas the reason she had been hurt! She stared at him, her face twisted with horror and revulsion. He couldn’t bear up under her gaze, and slunk from the kitchen, Brook on his heels.

  “Why, Clark? Why would you be involved with thieves? Criminals?”

  Clark stopped and turned around. He stared at her in amazement. “Do you really think I can afford this life-style on my wages? Six cars? Swimming pool? Three thousand square feet of living space. The Club. Come on, Brook, you can’t possibly believe that I make that much money.”

  “How would I know how much you make? You never shared those kinds of details with me. Besides, you come from a wealthy family. What about your parents’ money?”

  “What about it? That’s their money. Not mine. I may get some of it when they pass away, but they’re still young. They could spend it all by then. And more power to them if they do. It is theirs, after all.”

  “What about your trust fund?”

  “Trust fund?” Clark laughed ruefully. “My dad never believed in trust funds. He believes a man should make his own way in life. Jesus Christ, Brook.”

  “Okay. But…”

  Clark cut her off. “You know, most of this is your fault. I don’t need all this pretentious shit to live. I buy it for you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t need more money than what the firm pays.”

  “For me! For me? How dare you. You can’t blame this on me. I’ve never needed any of this.” She waved her hands to encompass their surroundings. “And as for the Club; well, I’ve never felt welcome there and I never will. This is not my life, Clark, it’s yours!”

  “You don’t have a clue, Brook.” Clark walked to the bar and poured a scotch and water.

  “I don’t have a clue? Oh my god! I’m not the one breaking the law. I’m not the one who set up someone I supposedly loved to be taken by animals. To be abused for days. They raped me, Clark! Those filthy pigs raped me! They planned on killing me.” She sucked in a ragged breath, anger and heartache warring inside her. “I do have a clue. You don’t!” Brook’s voice broke and tears ran down her cheeks. “They hurt me so badly! Over and over again, Clark."

  “Brook…” he reached out a hand, beseeching her. “It was never supposed to happen, sweetheart. Those bastards! I hate the thought of their hands on you.” He stopped as a frown passed over his face. “I suppose you fought them?”

  “Yes, you son-of-a-bitch! I fought them. Did you think I’d just lie there and take it? Maybe enjoy it?” Brook felt as if she would vomit. “But what the hell does that have to do with anything? What if I hadn’t fought? What if I couldn’t? How can you even ask something like that?”

  “I don’t know. It just popped into my mind. I didn’t mean anything by it. Of course, I don’t think you enjoyed it. That’s crazy, and you know it.” He paused. His expression was an odd melding of agony and bewilderment. “But, where have you been all this time? You don’t look injured to me. What am I supposed to think? Have you been with them this whole time? My god, Brook. Where were you?”

  “With them? God! No, I wasn’t with them the whole time. I would have been dead a long time ago.” Brook was astounded. “I got away. Escaped. Got lost in the middle of a forest in the freezing cold. I thought I was going to die. Then, I was rescued by a man. A good, kind man. He took care of me, cleaned me up, and kept me safe. He lives way up on a mountainside in the forest. I couldn’t get off the mountain until the snow melted.”

  “Well, whoever he is, I’d like to shake his hand. I’d like to thank him for helping you. I can hardly believe you're really here. But Brook, you need to take a minute to see my side of things. You have to realize this isn’t the way it was supposed to go down. I never wanted you to be hurt! The thought of it makes me…" Clark rubbed his hand over his face. “I swear, I almost lost my mind when you disappeared. It wasn’t as if I meant for you to be taken. I don't think you realize how hard this has been on me.” He paced back and forth a few times.

  Brook started to speak, but Clark cut her off.

  “You just don’t understand. Maybe my need for money isn’t your fault. But, lord, Brook. You can’t imagine the thrill of setting up these deals. The money that flows from those rich bastards overseas… It’s like a drug. I imagine it is similar to shooting heroin. The rush! But it was supposed to be my private indulgence, my secret. I never intended to drag you into it or involve you in any way. Don't you see? I’m sorry you got hurt. I truly am. I would never hurt you for a million dollars.”

  “No, Clark.” Brook sighed. “Not for a million. You did it for a lot less.”

  The anger had suddenly drained out of her, leaving her exhausted and miserable. The conversation illustrated how self-absorbed Clark was. Why hadn’t she seen it before? No questions from him about her condition, the location where she had spent the last several months, or even about
her abductors. He still seemed to be focused on his own interests, only superficially engaged beyond that. She was stunned by his self-centered responses. “You know what? I'm done. No more. I’m leaving you, Clark. I don’t love you anymore. In fact, I despise you.”

  “Brook, no!” Clark fell to his knees and reached towards Brook.

  “Just…don't. Don't do this to me, or to yourself. It’s over. It was over before I even got home. I love another man.”

  Clark’s face reddened and he climbed back to his feet. “Another man? Who the hell is he? The man on the mountain?” Seeing the answer in Brook’s eyes, he shouted, “No! I won’t allow it. I love you. You can’t leave me. You can’t love another man. You're mine; you belong to me.”

  Brook shook her head and walked from the room; the sounds of his pleading followed her through the long hallway and up the staircase.

  “It’s just gratitude you feel for him!” he called after her. “It’s not love! You love me, and you know it.”

  Brook entered their bedroom and stared at the bed she had shared with Clark. There was no way she would ever sleep in that bed again. Going to the dresser, she pulled out some clothes and took them with her to the guest room. Locking the door behind her, she went into the attached bathroom and ran a hot bath. She heard Clark knock on the bedroom door several times, but she ignored him. She wept as she bathed, her misery spilling out in hot tears.

  Later, in bed, she hugged the pillow to her and missed Lance. After the warmth and comfort of his cozy cabin, her own house felt like a mausoleum. She cried for her marriage that had turned out to be an empty union. She cried for the hurt she had endured. And she cried for the one man who knew how to take away her pain. Lonely as she had ever been, Brook finally drifted into a restless sleep.

  Chapter 53

  That first night, Lance thought the ache in his heart would get the best of him. He reached over and touched the empty space where Brooklyn had lain and felt tears behind his eyelids. He wondered how she was doing, pictured her walking the floors of her fancy home. Against his will, he envisioned her in the arms of her husband and punched the mattress with his fist.