by Kelly Utt
“Bill,” Marcheline began as she sat across the table from him. “Have you been to Tucson before?”
“Never,” he replied. “I suppose it’s always good to see new places. How about you? Have you been here?”
“No, never,” she replied. “But I have an old friend who lives here. In a few hours, we’re going to pay him a visit.”
A look of concern flashed across Bill’s face. Marcheline could tell he still wasn’t sure what she was going to do with him. She wasn’t sure either.
“Bill,” she began again. “What you said in the truck has really touched me. I think I underestimated and misunderstood you.” She flashed him a sincere smile. “The friend I’m meeting here has the connections and the capabilities to make you disappear. Now, I know that sounds scary, but I was prepared to do whatever I had to in order to protect my own daughter and granddaughter. At this point, I imagine you probably understand that.”
“I do, Ms. Fay,” he replied adamantly. “I absolutely do. But yes, it does sound scary. My wife… She passed away three years ago and I need to stick around for my daughter and granddaughter. I’m not even concerned about myself as much as I am them. They need me.”
“Then I think we understand each other perfectly,” Marcheline said.
“Sounds like we do.”
Marcheline put one hand on her head as she leaned forward on the table and braced herself for what she was about to admit. Sabine sat down beside her mother, holding Amelie on one knee.
“Mom, I’m right here,” Sabine said. “Go ahead. It’s okay.”
Ryan arrived with their food, and they ate burgers and French fries like hungry teenagers, giving Marcheline a temporary reprieve. When they were finished, Sabine looked at her mom and then gestured towards Bill. “Go ahead, Mom.”
Marcheline looked at her daughter, then at Ryan.
“Hey,” Ryan said. “I’m just along for this ride.”
Marcheline nodded then laced her fingers in front of her.
“Can I trust you, Bill Henderson?” she asked. “I mean really trust you?”
“Yes, you can.”
“Because if I can’t, as I mentioned…”
“Wow, did you threaten him while I was getting our burgers?” Ryan asked.
“We understand each other, Ms. Fay,” Bill said.
“Please, you may call me Marcheline.”
“Okay, Marcheline,” Bill said, using one hand to pat the top of hers briefly. “Tell me what it is you want to say.”
“This is hard,” she began. “Harder than I imagined.”
“Take your time,” Bill said. “I’m not going anywhere.” He chuckled at his own remark, amusing himself.
“Okay,” Marcheline said hesitantly. She took a deep, full breath and then began. “I am Leena Bisset.”
“Yeah, I got that idea,” Bill confirmed.
“You’re right. I accused Chester Loor of raping me, but he didn’t do it.”
“Then tell me why, and we can sort this all out.”
Marcheline explained in detail the same way she had to Sabine and Ryan that morning. She told Bill about Huey’s abuse and the night at his fishing cabin when he found out she was pregnant. She went through the story in excruciating detail. It was painful for her, but it was also cathartic. By the time she was done, they were all in tears.
“Ms. Fay… Marcheline,” Bill said, his voice full of compassion. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. You were just a kid. You didn’t deserve any of that. It’s horrible. Frankly, I think Huey Moreau should burn in hell for what he did.”
“Thank you for saying that, Bill,” she replied. “I think you are a good man.”
He smiled. “Did you ever tell Chester what was happening with Huey?”
“Never,” she said. “I never told anyone until I told my daughter and son-in-law this morning. You have to understand, Huey told me it was my fault. He told me I wanted it and was asking for it. When you grow up hearing that, you believe it. When Huey first began abusing me, I was far too young to make any sense out of such a complicated dynamic. Besides, he made it a point to threaten me regularly. I honestly thought Huey would kill my parents if I told anyone. And then I thought he would kill my daughter. And by extension, my granddaughter. I still fear him. That’s why I am running away. Again.”
Bill looked at Ryan, and the two of them seemed to be communicating without words. Marcheline got the idea they could see through her pain and were assessing the reality of her fears. She knew they had good intentions and didn’t mean to minimize what she’d been through, but she could sense that her thoughts were clouded on the topic. Ryan was right. The trauma still had a hold on her. She was making decisions from a place of fear.
“Marcheline, dear,” Bill continued. “About how many miles away from home are you right now?”
The question caught Marcheline off guard. New tears formed in her eyes. “From Rosemary Run, about nine hundred miles,” she said.
“And from Evanston?”
Marcheline raised one hand and put it over her mouth. She was too choked up to speak.
“Were you close to your parents?” Bill continued.
Marcheline nodded hard.
“She said they were wonderful parents,” Sabine added, speaking for her mom. “They didn’t know about Huey.”
Bill leaned forward, further across the table. “Would you let me help you?”
“How could you possibly do that?” Marcheline asked, her voice breaking.
“I could use my expertise to look into Huey. We can find out what he’s doing and what his situation is now. There might be a way that we can get everything out into the open so you wouldn’t have to run anymore.”
Marcheline closed her eyes as she continued to cry. Not once in the twenty-six years since she had fled the state of Illinois had she thought everything might be okay. She could hardly imagine it now, but something about Bill made her trust him. A part of her thought maybe he could really help. Maybe everything could turn out well in the end.
“But, the mob?” Marcheline asked. “You live in Chicago, Bill. You know what it’s like there. I don’t think my daughter and son-in-law fully appreciate the seriousness of the threat.”
“I hear you,” Bill replied. “And I definitely appreciate the seriousness of that threat. But there are circumstances that might make it a non-issue.”
“Like?”
“Not to be too forward here,” Bill continued. “But the paternity of your daughter is a big unknown. If Chester is her father, then Huey doesn’t have any reason to be concerned. His secret stays hidden. Unless you decide to go after him and try to make him pay for his crimes. But that’s a separate issue.”
“It makes me nervous,” Marcheline said. “I think any indication that Leena Bisset is alive and well could prompt Huey to send his people after us. I just can’t take that risk.”
Bill sighed and looked at Ryan again. Then he put his hand on top of Marcheline’s, letting it rest there this time. “You know, that happened a long time ago. Huey might not even be around anymore. For all we know, the man’s dead. Or senile. How old was he, last you knew?”
“I’m not sure,” Marcheline said. “He was older than my parents. They were in their forties, so he might have been in his fifties?”
Bill smiled. “Marcheline, honey, add twenty-six years to that and the man has to be at least eighty-five years old now. If mobsters live that long, it’s unusual for them to remain actively involved. If Huey has any memory problems, for instance, the organization would have stopped paying close attention to his directives.”
Marcheline nodded her understanding. She had never thought about it that way. In her mind, Huey was still the same, frozen in time. It was difficult to think of him at all, but it made her feel a little better to picture him as an eighty-five-year-old man. He wouldn’t be able to physically dominate her anymore.
“And I don’t mean to question your judgment,” Bill continued. “Please, kn
ow that’s not what I’m saying here. But you were young and afraid. Once a kid loses their power, it becomes easy for an adult to continue to manipulate them. Are you sure Huey was even in the mob to begin with? Could he have just told you that to better control you?”
Marcheline sobbed now, her whole body heaving and quivering. The thought of Huey’s mob involvement being nothing more than a mind game had never crossed her mind, and she was embarrassed that it hadn’t. It made so much sense as Bill said it matter-of-factly, but it had been the farthest thing from Marcheline’s troubled mind. Maybe she imagined the shady-looking men going in and out of Huey’s jewelry store. Maybe it all just seemed scary since he was abusing her. Maybe he had lied to her, saying exactly what was needed to keep her afraid.
Sabine handed Amelie to Ryan, then she wrapped her arms tightly around her mom. Sabine cried along with Marcheline as the reality of how badly she had been hurt sunk in. Bill kept his hand on Marcheline’s. Ryan stood up with the baby and walked behind Marcheline, then placed one of his hands on her shoulders. They enveloped her, placing themselves around her and reaching out to provide comfort and a loving touch.
Marcheline had stayed walled off from people for as long as she could remember. Even the people closest to her hadn’t known the whole truth. She had believed they wouldn’t love and accept her if they’d known. For the first time, she was beginning to realize just how wrong she had been.
“We love you, Mom,” Sabine said. “Maybe Bill was sent to help you. Have you thought of that?”
Marcheline looked at Bill. He shrugged his shoulders.
“You know I’m not religious,” Sabine added. “But I’m a believer in fate and things that are beyond what we can understand. Something is clearly at work here. Bill had to literally slam into our vehicle in the Arizona desert to get to you, but he’s here. I think you should let him help.”
“Yeah, Marcheline,” Ryan added. “We love you. You’re loved by a lot of people. It’s about time that you were able to heal from everything that’s happened to you. You deserve that. And you deserve to live in peace without having to look over your shoulder, ready to leave town at a moment’s notice.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Sabine continued. “And I deserve to know who my father is.”
Marcheline sputtered and choked as Sabine said those words. “I’m sorry, Sabine. I really am. I never wanted to deprive you of a father. It was an impossible situation. It is an impossible situation.”
“Mom, it’s okay. I know I keep saying the word okay, but it is. If Chester is my father, then I’ll get to know him. It sounds like he’s a good guy who has had some tough breaks. I can handle that.”
“Chester and Norman would be over the moon,” Bill replied. “Chester doesn’t have any other children.”
Sabine smiled at the thought of it. Maybe Chester wasn’t what she had pictured as an ideal dad, but she understood that’s how life works sometimes. She was capable of looking at the bright side and finding the best in the situation.
“You said you told him you were pregnant and that the two of you should raise the baby together, right?” Sabine asked.
“At first, yes,” Marcheline replied. “But then I told him I’d lost the baby. I didn’t want him trying to find me either. I know it was wrong to do.”
“It’s in the past now,” Sabine said. “I understand why you did what you did.”
“I’m glad, my darling.”
“And, Mom, if it’s Huey… If he’s my father… Then that’s okay, too. It’s not my preference. But you’ve been such a good mom to me. You’ve been parent enough for the both of you. You stepped up in every way imaginable and have given me the best childhood I ever could have asked for. I don’t blame you, Mom. I can handle this. We can get through it together.”
26
“Give me a day,” Bill said. “Let’s find a place to stay and then let me get my hands on a phone and a laptop. I’ll do some digging with the help of my friend Gary on the force in Chicago. I promise you can trust him, too.”
“What about…?” Sabine began.
“If you’ll allow it, I will take a swab of cells from the inside of your cheek and will express ship them to Gary. He can have the lab test your DNA against Chester’s. If it’s not a match, then we’ll move on from there.”
“Do it,” Sabine instructed.
Bill could sense Marcheline’s hesitation. “Marcheline, no one will trace anything back to you. I won’t give them names unless and until you’re ready. I promise.”
“Alright,” she said, all cried out. “I trust you.”
When they all climbed back into the truck, Marcheline used another one of her burner phones to call Guillermo and tell him she wouldn’t be at the body shop at five o’clock. She explained that his help, offered all those years ago when they were college friends, might not be necessary. He took the information in stride, sounding confused, but relieved for his friend. He said that since they were in Tucson, they might as well come to his house for dinner. His wife Camila was from Mexico also and Guillermo said she was a great cook. He insisted that his wife loved to entertain guests and wouldn’t mind the imposition. Marcheline agreed, promising to arrive around seven with wine in hand. Bottles manufactured by Maison du Vin were sold at a local mom-and-pop grocery store. She promised to pick one up and give her friend a taste of the fruits of her labor.
With those plans in place, the group found a comfortable hotel that was much nicer than the rundown places they stayed when they had been avoiding attention. The Old Pueblo Inn and Suites boasted views of the iconic Sentinel Peak. The grounds were landscaped with the most stunning desert plants Marcheline had ever seen. The lush swimming pool area was like an oasis, filled with flowers, singing birds, and stunning architecture. Ryan noticed right away and complemented the developers on the green design that blended so beautifully with the natural landscape of the area. Hotel owners had spared no expense on their facility or the amenities it provided. The place was a true retreat, and it was exactly what Marcheline needed. All the way down to the small batch hand soap and bath care items placed in each suite, the Inn was a joy.
They rented three rooms, one for Bill, one for Marcheline, and one for Ryan, Sabine, and Amelie. Marcheline generously offered to pay for all three, telling the group it was the least she could do after having dragged them down there, nearly to the Mexican border.
Bill called for a rental car, then went out shopping for clean clothes, a new phone, and a laptop. He returned shortly thereafter, then cleaned himself up and got down to work in his suite. As promised, he had purchased a vial and swabs for Sabine’s cheek. Once her cells were placed inside, he packaged the vial up for safe transit, then left it with the concierge with instructions to get it to Gary as soon as humanly possible. Bill still hadn’t slept, a fact that wasn’t lost on Marcheline. His dedication to helping her even while exhausting himself in the process meant a great deal.
Ryan napped while he waited until it was time to go to dinner, so Sabine took Amelie to the pool. It was much warmer than Rosemary Run this time of year and she enjoyed the chance to let the baby experience the water.
While Bill was working and everyone else was enjoying the downtime, Marcheline got a pen and paper from the desk in her suite, then began to write a new letter.
27
Dear Uncle Huey,
I never intended to speak to you again, not even in a letter. I did my best to strike you from my consciousness and to never think your name, let alone speak or write it. But you were always there in the background, creeping in.
You took my innocence as a young girl and every day since. Like a disease, you spread throughout my being, wrecking every fiber and dampening anything good. I couldn’t shake loose from you, no matter how hard I tried.
To say I hate you is an understatement.
I don’t know what you think of me. Maybe you think I was too young to remember your abuse, or that it wasn’t that bad. But I remember every moment of
it. I remember being a young girl, six years old and just beginning to feel independent in the simplest of ways. My parents loved and cared for me. They cherished me, their most precious little darling. I know the feeling, because I felt the same about my own daughter. But you, you broke their trust and mine when you began climbing in my bed and putting your filthy hands on my innocent young body.
What, you think I didn’t remember?
I remember the first time. I had fallen asleep, only to be awakened to your hand underneath my shirt. It felt wrong and vile, but I was too young to understand why. Then, when you put your hand down my pants and touched me in my most sacred of places, I couldn’t explain why I’d gone to the bathroom and thrown up afterwards. But my body knew.
As I got older and the touching continued, I remembered every time.
I remember the first time you pulled down your pants and made me touch you. I didn’t realize that my chronic stomach aches and bedwetting in elementary school were a direct result.
I remember the first time you penetrated me. Sure, I didn’t push you away or yell or hit. I didn’t know I could. By then, you had threatened to have my parents killed if I told anyone. I loved them dearly and would never have put them at risk, so instead of speaking up, I cried silently as you heaved on top of me, your filthy breath and bad body stench assaulting my senses.
And then at the end of us, the last day I saw your disgusting face, I remember. It was at your fishing cabin, where you not only raped and violated me, but you beat me and you chased me, making me fear for my own life and that of my unborn child’s. That’s in addition to the fear for my parents’ lives, which never went far from the front of my consciousness. Did you know that on that night, when I ran down by the lake, I considered going in and forcing myself under the cold water until the pain stopped? If it hadn’t been for the baby growing inside of me, I probably would have done exactly that. And all thanks to you, Huey. I never would have been in such a fragile state if you hadn’t wormed your way in without my parents’ knowledge and then manipulated and violated me in the worst possible ways.