Redemption (Desire Never Dies)

by Clara Grace Walker

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “The world’s first and only self-service hotel. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to catch on.”

  “Self-service? That doesn’t even make sense. What about food?”

  Earl shrugged, enthusiasm lacking in the gesture. “There’s a kitchen downstairs, stocked with CRC-approved offerings. We get to cook and clean ourselves.”

  Mindy made the staff calculations in her head. Rory had said Patty and two security guards worked here, and there was someone at the gate. Shirley, Belinda, Dr. Belanger, Rory and three more security guards worked at the treatment facility. That made eleven people. Six of them armed guards. She shuddered. “Makes you wonder what they do with all that gifting money they get from patients.”

  “Fattening a Swiss bank account, I’d say.” He spoke without care. Like it was to be expected.

  Turning just enough to face him, Mindy folded her hands in her lap, listening to the expectant rhythm of his breathing. “Relieving people of their money isn’t all they’re doing.”

  Curiosity claimed his stare. “What do you mean?”

  “They killed someone here.” She didn’t know how else to say it. “I think her name was Pauline.”

  Sympathy played in his face. “Okay, Mindy, you’re scaring me.”

  She saw it in his face; the relaxing of his jaw, the softening of his muscles, the denial in his eyes and the way he would no longer meet her gaze. Hurt tore into her, slamming her heart into her chest and forcing a lump in her throat. It had never occurred to her he wouldn’t believe her. Suddenly she was rambling, the whole story pouring out in a heated rush of words. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.” He had to stop looking at her that way; like she was someone to be pitied. “The first night I was here. The second night, I mean. The first night I remember. I was just waking up from the drugs they gave me, and I was telling Rory about the memory I had, about the face, and I asked him if a man was in my room, but he said no.” Why didn’t the expression on Earl’s face change? “I’m sure it’s not a nightmare, but something that really happened. But the night I had the nightmare, Rory brought me some food. It was late, and it was dark outside. And when I sat down to eat, I saw them.”

  “Saw who?” He’d let her ramble on and on, without interrupting. Now he looked at her like she’d gone mad. “Who did you see?”

  Anger replaced her hurt. Damn him for looking at her that way. “I saw three people carrying something into the woods outside my window.” She spoke harshly. “They dropped it, and when they picked it back up, I saw it was a woman with long, dark hair.”

  “Are you sure?” He shook his head, still staring like she was nuts.

  “Of course I’m sure. I saw her face!” Mindy heard her voice rise and realized she sounded panicked. “Why don’t you believe me?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”

  He spoke calmly. Much too calmly for what she’d just told him. He tried putting his arm around her, but she pushed it away, letting her breath come in loud waves, balling her hands into fists. “You didn’t have to. I can tell by the way you’re looking at me.”

  “Mindy, please. I want to support you, but you should hear yourself.” His tone became impatient, tinged with annoyance. “You’re rambling on about being drugged and people being in your room and nightmares and faces and seeing bodies dumped in the woods.”

  “I was drugged!” She jumped from the bed, so mad she started to shake.

  Earl continued to sit, folding his arms across his chest. “I know they drugged you.”

  She bit her lip, still breathing hard, so filled with hurt and anger she wanted to scream. “Then why don’t you believe me?”

  “I believe they drugged you,” he said. “Shirley told me so the day I arrived. She said you were trying to escape and attacked one of the staff members.”

  “I wasn’t trying to escape. I was trying to leave. There’s a difference. And I didn’t attack anyone. No one here would answer my questions.”

  Earl nodded.

  Of course he nodded. “Well, don’t you think there’s something strange about this place?” she demanded. The way he sat silently staring at her like she’d grown a third eye really pissed her off. “Don’t you?”

  He exhaled, glancing around the room before looking back at her. “I think they’re definitely out to make a buck. No question about that.”

  “What about the armed guard at the gate? And all the security guards? And the surveillance cameras?”

  “They’re treating addicts here.” He said it patiently. “I think they’re trying to keep drugs and alcohol away from their patients.”

  “Right!” Temper flashed hot in her words as she jumped to her feet. “Except for the part where I’m to be given drugs at night to, quote/unquote, help me sleep.”

  “I’m no doctor, Mindy.” His patient tone turned to one of exasperation. “I don’t know what they should or shouldn’t be giving you at night. But it sounds to me like maybe you’re going through withdrawals.”

  “Now you sound like fucking Rory.” Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t stop it. He didn’t believe her. How could he not believe her?

  “Hey.” Earl stood, pulling her into his arms and kissing her on the top of her head. “I’m sorry this is so hard for you.”

  She didn’t hug him back. She kept her arms crossed in front of her.

  “Mindy.” He spoke softly. “At some point you need to take responsibility for what you’ve done.”

  She heard her mother’s words coming out of his mouth. Her temper erupted full force and she pounded her hands into his chest, shoving him back. “You son-of-a-bitch! Don’t you ever say that to me again!” She slammed out the door, not bothering to see if anyone else was around. She wanted to be gone, away from his false declarations of concern and tender caresses. Her mother hadn’t believed her when she was fourteen, and now Earl didn’t believe her either. She’d been right to keep her secrets from him.

  Chapter 13

  Earl rushed down the hall, chasing after Mindy as she hit the stairs. He called her name once before remembering not to alert anyone. She didn’t answer. She never even looked back. Just ran like she was fleeing a crime scene. She rounded the curve in the walkway outside, nearly out of sight, before he gave up the chase, cursing himself. He’d blown it. And he didn’t have the slightest idea why.

  Stomping back to his room, he threw on his Doctor Who t-shirt. He’d kept to himself since he’d arrived. Maybe it was time he tried talking to some of the other family members. Find out how they coped with loving someone dealing with addiction. He made his way to the poolside bar, thinking he should have packed more shorts and fewer jeans. Already the day was sticky hot. As he reached the pool, he noted a blonde guy in khaki shorts and a polo shirt and a bald guy with a diamond stud earring sitting on stools under a thatched-roof bar. They drank what looked to be frozen margaritas in plastic cups. Earl recognized the men as Preston Tyler and Rod Skinner, having seen them in the news several years back, but he kept the recognition to himself. Experience had taught him how unnerving it was to have a complete stranger walk up and act like they knew you. Instead, he stuck his hand out. “I’m Earl Grayson,” he said. “I arrived yesterday.”

  The blonde man shook his hand. “Preston Tyler. Nice to meet you. I’ve seen most of your films.”

  The bald guy stuck his hand out next. “Rod Skinner, my man.” He nodded at Earl’s shirt. “You a fan of the classic series or the re-boot?”

  Earl laughed. Fans pretended all the time to share his love of the show, but only a true fan would ask Rod’s question. “I like them both. Kind of hard to pick a favorite.”

  Rod nodded, tipping his cup in Earl’s direction. “Re-boot’s good, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Tom Baker.”

  “He did define the character for many years.” Earl took a seat beside Rod. He was aware of the guy’s less-than-stellar reputation, but decided he liked him a
nyhow. Anyone who loved Doctor Who couldn’t be all bad. He nodded at the plastic cup, sure now it was a margarita. It came complete with salt rim and lime wedge. “I’m surprised they don’t mind if family members drink.” He’d received a packet of information explaining the CRC philosophy, rules, requirements and a map of the place. He just hadn’t bothered to read it. It didn’t seem likely they’d approve of alcohol though. Not when they’d gone to the trouble of relieving him of his cell phone and laptop.

  “Actually, they do mind,” Preston said. “We’re expected to comply with all the same behavior standards as the patients in order to support their recovery.” He spoke sarcastically. “The beverages here are all non-alcoholic.”

  So much for relaxing with a beer. “I guess that explains the family seminars. Along with the lack of internet and cable TV. Not to mention the confiscation of my cell phone and instructions to use the landline in my room. I’m still a bit pissed about that.”

  “That would be why.” Preston nodded, but weariness sounded in his voice.

  Earl noted his solid lack of enthusiasm. “You don’t sound too thrilled with the program.”

  Preston threw his hands in the air in an exasperated manner. “I’m thrilled with anything that will help my son recover. I just find their methods a bit pushy.”

  Earl motioned again at the half-empty glass. “And paternalistic?”

  Preston nodded. “That, too.”

  “They’re fucking control freaks,” Rod said, but sighed and shook his head. “I guess that’s what it takes to treat addiction. And if it helps Darla, fine. I can’t afford to keep sending her to rehab.”

  Earl detected a note of desperation in the guy’s voice; one he identified with. “I take it she’s done rehab before?”

  Rod held up two fingers. “This is trip number two. She did a thirty-day stay at Fresh Beginnings last year. Didn’t help.”

  “I see.” He thought of Mindy’s two previous attempts at kicking booze. “I guess relapses are fairly common then.”

  “So they say.” Preston set down his drink, staring into it like it held the answer to the meaning of life. “That’s the only reason I’m putting up with CRC’s non-traditional approach.”

  “How long has your son been here? If it’s alright to ask.”

  “It’s fine. Scott’s been here four weeks now. Twenty-eight days to be exact. Believe me, I’m counting.”

  “Is it helping?” That was the question Earl wanted answered most.

  Preston shrugged. “He’s taken responsibility for his bad decisions and started to open up about some of his issues, so I’d have to say overall he’s making progress.”

  “But?” Earl said the word, because he sensed it coming.

  “But,” Preston said. “I don’t like the chanting or the emphasis they place on gifting. And I sure as hell don’t like the way they encourage everyone, patients and family members alike, to drop whatever belief system they’re holding onto and replace it with the CRC philosophy.”

  Mindy had told him about the chanting and gifting, but not about the belief system switch they were working to sell. He gave Preston a thoughtful look. “I guess that explains why you’re here drinking a non-alcoholic margarita instead of attending that Connecting With the Universe seminar.”

  Preston held up his glass in mock salute. “That would be why.”

  “I may as well join you, because I’m sure not attending any hokey seminars.” Earl walked to the other side of the bar, grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with what was left of the frozen beverage in a nearly empty blender. He skipped the salt and lime wedge. “It’s a little ironic, Mindy and Darla both ending up here at the same time.” He directed the statement to Rod. “They had quite the cat fight four years ago.”

  Rod laughed. “I know. Man, was Darla ever pissed about Mindy showing up. She’s been pissing and moaning about it for the last two nights. Can’t tell you how enjoyable that’s made visiting hour.”

  Preston clapped a hand on Rod’s back. “I’m sure it’s just some strange female thing and has nothing to do with Vince Allan. Darla loves you.”

  Earl returned to his seat at the bar, not missing the glum look on Rod’s face. “Vince Allan.” He scoffed. “There’s one son-of-a-bitch whose ass I wouldn’t mind kicking.”

  Rod nodded. “I’ll bet. Mindy still hanging out with that asshole?”

  “I don’t think so.” Earl examined the contents of his drink, wishing he could add, ‘because she dumped him for me’.

  Preston gave him a knowing look. “You still love her, don’t you?”

  Earl shrugged. “Guess it’s obvious. Doubt I’d be here otherwise.”

  “She seemed happy to see you last night.” He sounded like he was handing out a pep talk.

  “I suppose she was. Doesn’t mean we’re on our way to fixing things though.”

  “If you really love her, you should try working out whatever caused you to break it off,” Preston continued. “Maggie and I split up for three years before fate threw us back together. And here we are, six years later; married with two kids.”

  Earl did the math in a millisecond. “Your son’s a teen-ager.”

  Preston nodded. “We adopted Scott out of foster care when he was ten.”

  “You think that’s where his problems stem from?” It seemed to Earl a lot of damage could be done to a kid in ten years. He thought again about Mindy’s childhood; the one she wouldn’t talk about.

  “I know they are. Scott has a lot of anger where his biological mother is concerned.”

  “Preston and Maggie have been great parents,” Rod offered.

  “I don’t doubt that.” Earl nodded at Preston. “It’s like you said; none of us would be here if we didn’t love someone in that other building. Now if I could just get Mindy to open up and tell me what’s going on inside her head, we might make some progress with our relationship.”

  Rod laughed. “My man, she may be doing you a favor. Sometimes I wish Darla would stop telling me what’s going on inside her head. All I ever hear from her is how her life isn’t exciting enough, and how bored she is, and how she thinks I should be doing something more important than selling insurance. She doesn’t get the part where trying to be a hot-shot millionaire cost me everything I had, including my law license. Or how I’ve spent four years trying to rebuild my life so I can provide for her.”

  Once more, Preston clapped a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “She gets it, Rod. She just needs to exorcise the demons her father left her with.”

  Earl had read about Darla’s father four years ago. Peter Arnold was a wealthy tabloid publisher thrown in jail for sexually abusing underage girls, including his daughter. “You’re a good man, Rod,” he said. “You both are. And at least Preston doesn’t have lady problems.”

  Preston and Rod both laughed, while Preston shook his head. “You mean except for the part where Maggie’s on my case to make peace with my ex-brother-in-law.”

  “I read about your sister’s murder,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  Preston looked down at his drink. “Thanks. Her death was such a senseless waste.”

  Earl wasn’t a fan of Nick Beck’s. He wasn’t a fan of any tabloid publisher. But he didn’t get Preston’s obvious hostility. “Weren’t Nick and that photographer held captive by the real killer?”

  Preston nodded. “Jamie. Yeah. They were married four months after Janelle died. And their daughter was born seven months after that.”

  “I see. Rather a quick bounce back.” Earl looked over at Rod, and noticed the guy had gone silent; staring into the trees like he was searching for Big Foot. He figured the guy’s much-publicized affair with Preston’s sister had something to do with his sudden interest in botany. He also remembered a lot of hoopla where Rod was concerned involving an alleged blackmail scam he ran on married women; a scam that was never prosecuted for lack of victims willing to come forward. That had to be what had the guy scanning the vegetation. Earl turned his
attention back to Preston. “Why is your wife on your case to make nice with Nick?”

  Preston nodded. “She says I never treated Nick like family when he and Janelle were married, and I’m as much to blame for the bad blood between us as he is. I think she just wants to make friends with Jamie and set up play dates with our daughters.”

  Earl sized the situation up. “So I have a woman who won’t tell me anything. Rod has a woman who tells him too much. And Preston has a woman who tells him what to do.”

  His two companions laughed and nodded.

  “Sounds about right,” Preston said.

  “Well then.” Earl held his plastic cup of frozen virgin margarita in the air. “Here’s to women. It’s tough as Hell living with them. Miserable living without them. And we will never, ever understand them.”

  Chapter 14

  Shirley sat on her bed staring at a map of the CRC grounds. When she’d first designed the facility she’d been one hundred percent satisfied with the layout. Shaped like a giant U, the building housed patient rooms on one wing of the building, and the cafeteria, security office, Belinda’s office, the group therapy room and the rec room on the other. The front of the building contained staff rooms and Shirley’s and Arthur’s private quarters. CRC staff members had rooms located down a hallway to the right of check-in. Staff and patients took their meals together in the cafeteria, where the staff doubled as cooks and clean-up crew. This allowed CRC to function more efficiently and at a savings. Only Shirley and her brother had private living quarters. Attached directly to their offices, they had the luxury of eat-in kitchens and living rooms with cable TV and internet access. She had thought the finished design perfect three years ago when she’d first stepped foot inside her brand new building.