by Alison Stone
Christina glared right back at him. “The truth is a valid defense.”
“You got a lot of nerve coming out here...” Spittle flew from his lips.
“I’m done.” She gave one last look at the abandoned barn, a row of hay bales with targets on them lined up on one side. She was disappointed she wouldn’t be able to investigate further. Not now. Not with Roger. She turned to go back to her car, a surge of adrenaline mingled with dread and anger.
Roger’s arm snaked out and grabbed her wrist, and terror pressed on her lungs. Instinctively she yanked her arm, but Roger tightened his grip.
“How do you think the fine residents of Apple Creek would feel if they knew their respected town doctor had tried to break up a marriage? I believe home wrecker is the term.”
Christina glared at him, then down at his fingers encircling her wrist. Anger made her bolder than she had a right to be. Roger was probably twice her size. “Let. Me. Go.”
Roger let go of her wrist and stared at her, daring her to move. “Who do you think the members of this town are going to believe? The war hero who’s returned home to take care of his ailing estranged wife despite their differences? The former all-star high school baseball player? The newest member of the town council? Or the town doctor who grew up in a life of privilege—entitlement—and never knew the meaning of the word no?”
“No one who knows me would characterize me like that.”
Roger hiked a shoulder. “Want to try them? And tell me, why didn’t you tell your brother about us?”
“There was no us.” She gritted out the words.
“Okay, why didn’t you tell him I supposedly attacked you?”
“You know why.” She wasn’t able to hide the black eye from her brother so she lied and said her roommate had accidentally elbowed her in the eye. Nick felt guilty that he hadn’t walked her home from the party that night. He’d never forgive himself if he knew it was his friend who had attacked her. His friend who would have done far more to her if she hadn’t fought so fiercely. If something hadn’t spooked Roger. She never did figure out what that was.
More importantly, Christina couldn’t risk Roger seeking retribution from Nick during a time of war. Roger was her brother’s superior in the army. If Christina’s accusations fell on deaf ears, she’d risk putting her brother’s life in jeopardy while they were serving overseas together. And Roger seemed exactly like the kind of person who might try to get even.
She couldn’t risk telling anyone.
A voice roared inside her. How is your silence any different from Naomi refusing to call the sheriff? It’s all a matter of self-preservation.
Self-preservation and protecting those she cared about. She was afraid of Roger, but she was more afraid of how her accusations back then would have affected those around her. Around her brother.
And a little voice in her head always prompted one nagging question: Had she asked for it? Had she been partially responsible for his assault on her? Christina had been enjoying the harmless, flirtatious banter with her brother’s good friend, until it ceased to be flirtatious or harmless.
She thanked God every day that she had been able to escape with only a black eye, and bruised ribs and thighs from his clawing at her.
Her injuries—the assault—could have been far worse.
“I suggest you don’t cause trouble for me now,” Roger said, his eyes sparking with anger.
Squaring her shoulders, Christina took a step closer. “I may have kept my mouth shut back when you attacked me. I was young. Naive. But I plan to do whatever it takes to protect the young women in town.”
A line marred his forehead. “Let me get this straight. You think I’m attacking young women from town?” He jabbed his finger in the direction of his barn. “In my own barn?” He shook his head and leaned in closer; his coffee breath assaulted her nose. “You really are whacked.”
His words struck like a punch to the solar plexus and she struggled to fill her lungs with air. He had used similar words to intimidate her into silence years ago, calling her accusations ridiculous.
Roger gave her a curious stare. “I’m a respected member of the town council now. I took over the seat vacated when Old Man Siegfried kicked the bucket. I put some feelers out there when Linda asked me to come back home. She’s not doing well,” he added, with the first hint of humanity. “I need to be here for her and my son. We don’t need your harassment.”
She fisted her hands. Was he making a play for her sympathy? She wasn’t buying it.
“Why stir up trouble from so long ago? It’ll be my word against yours. A ruined reputation is tough to rebuild.”
“Stay away from me.” Her voice came out low and threatening.
“You stopped by my house,” Roger reminded her.
“My mistake.” She turned toward her car. She couldn’t bear to spend one more minute with this man.
“Keep your mouth shut, Christina. Linda doesn’t need your false accusations. Her health can’t take it.”
“That’s on you. Not me.” Christina kept walking and Roger followed close behind.
“Let me make this clear and in terms you’ll understand. If you stir up trouble, you’ll be sorry.”
“Is that a threat?” All her nerve endings hummed and she fought to hold it together. “You’re good at threats.”
“People love war heroes,” he said, his voice strangely even.
Christina lifted a shaky hand to her forehead. “I should never have stopped here.” She started jogging toward her car parked in the driveway.
“I thought you wanted to check the barn,” Roger hollered after her.
Christina didn’t answer, nor did she stop until she was locked inside her vehicle and had started up the engine. She was about to press her forehead to the steering wheel when a shadow crossed her lap. She glanced up to see a mini-me version of Roger Everett.
Christina opened the window. Before she had a chance to say anything, the young man—who had to be Roger’s son—said, “My mom and dad are trying to work things out.” He stared at her with a steely gaze.
“Okay...”
“If you’re one of his girlfriends, you better not come around here anymore.” His tone was flat, threatening.
“I’m not dating your father.” Her body involuntarily shuddered. She angled her head to look up at him and she had to shield her eyes from the sun. “How old are you?”
The boy squared his shoulders. “Seventeen.”
“Do you know about a party in the barn last night?”
The boy crossed his arms and shook his head. “How would I? We didn’t move in until this morning.”
“Okay,” she said, noncommittally. She didn’t want to call him out. Maybe he had innocently mentioned to some kids at school that he had a vacant house. It wouldn’t take a bunch of kids long to figure out it was a prime location for an unsupervised party.
“I better go.” She put the gear into reverse, then looked up at him. “I’m a physician in town. If your mom needs anything, here’s my card. I gave your mom one, too. Feel free to call if you have concerns. It can be hard to care for someone who’s sick.”
Half his mouth quirked into a wry grin. “My mom’s going to be fine.” Reluctantly, he took her business card and stared hard at it.
“I’ll keep her in my prayers,” Christina said softly, not really sure what else to say.
Something flashed across the young man’s face, as if he wanted to say something sarcastic, but instead he took a step back and flicked his hand in a farewell gesture, and she thought she heard him mutter, “Thanks.”
* * *
Dylan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited in the parking lot of an abandoned restaurant surrounded by cornfields. Ben Reist, the young man, who had unceremoniousl
y dumped Naomi at the clinic door in a driving rain, lived nearby with his mother. Christina had called Dylan, her voice trembling and anxious, determined to find Ben Reist. Now.
Something was wrong.
To be on the safe side, he’d told Christina to meet him in a neutral location and they’d head to the boy’s house together. Dylan was grateful his summer classes had yet to start, affording him the opportunity to be there for Christina. However, he didn’t understand why she insisted on trying to track Ben down when her brother, the sheriff’s deputy couldn’t. Dylan had no authorization to investigate this case and Christina most definitely didn’t.
“Where are you?” he muttered to himself.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires had him turning to see Christina arriving in a ten-year-old sedan. She parked across from him and climbed out of the car. Her long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and a concerned expression marred the corners of her mouth. An ache of nostalgia expanded in his chest.
He had been a fool to let her go.
Dylan pushed open his car door and climbed out. “What’s going on?”
Christina crossed her arms and glanced toward the street. Something flickered in the depths of her eyes, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “What’s wrong?” he asked when she didn’t answer his first question.
She paced in the small space between their parked cars, kicking up gravel. She stopped suddenly and drew in a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the deliberate action. His heart sank at the pained look on her face. He felt like this was one of those moments when his life was going to shift off its tracks. He crossed his arms to brace himself.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then searched his face. She stepped closer and touched his arm. “I have to tell you something and you can’t get mad. You can’t seek revenge because if it gets out, the repercussions might ruin my career.” Her voice cracked.
“What is it?” A sharp blade of fear twisted in his gut.
“I stopped by the house where the party was last night.”
“What?” The heat of anger exploded in his head, but he gritted his jaw to keep it in check. He had no right to tell Christina what she could or couldn’t do. It wasn’t his job to protect her.
It had been his job to look out for his rookie partner. And look what had happened to her.
Inwardly, he shook the thought away. He wondered if he’d ever be able to outrun that nightmare.
“I was going to work and took a quick side trip. I couldn’t help myself.”
He opened his mouth to say something but stopped when Christina held up her hand.
“There was a trailer parked in the driveway and it was obvious someone was moving in. I stopped and met the new owners. They claim they weren’t home last night.”
“You mentioned the barn party?”
“Yes, but I kept Naomi’s name out of it.”
“Did they know anything about it?” Dylan couldn’t fault this woman’s tenacity, but she shouldn’t be putting herself at risk.
“Claimed they didn’t know about it.”
“Even though I don’t agree with your stopping at the house by yourself, you answered the obvious questions. Make sense. Empty house. Empty barn. Prime place to hold a party.”
“But there’s something more.” Christina looked down at the ground and moved the gravel around with the toe of her tennis shoe. She swept a strand of hair away from her face and Dylan thought he detected a tremble in her hand.
“What is it?” He frowned, unease tickling at the back of his throat.
“I know the owner of the house. He’s a friend of my brother’s.” She seemed to flinch at the word friend.
Dylan held his breath waiting for her to continue.
Christina lifted her chin and locked eyes with him. “This is where I need you to promise me you won’t do anything...”
“How can I make a promise when I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Cold dread weighed on his chest.
“Roger Everett attacked me shortly before my brother and he were deployed. My brother’s first deployment, Roger’s second.”
“Your brother was deployed a month after we broke up.” Another point that made Dylan a complete jerk when it came to cutting off the relationship with Christina. A surge of panic and adrenaline coursed like daggers of ice through his veins. Dylan’s vision tunneled and all he could see was Christina’s pretty face. “He attacked you?”
Christina pressed her lips together as if she were trying to contain her emotions. Dylan resisted the urge to pull her into his embrace, comfort her.
Her lower lip trembled and she nodded. “A few of us went to the beach along the lake for a send-off party. Roger was always friendly to me, so we stayed and chatted long after most people left.” She pressed a hand to her mouth before she continued, “He tried to force himself on me and I had to fight him off.”
“Oh, man...” Dylan turned to look away. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” she said rather glibly. “I should have known better. Shouldn’t have put myself in that position. He had a wife and child. What was I doing flirting with him?” Her tone was even, numb. “We were chatting. He was my brother’s friend.”
“Did he...?” Dylan struggled to get the question out, afraid of the answer. Sorry he hadn’t been there to protect someone he had once loved more than life itself.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I fought like crazy and God was looking out for me that night. I was able to ward off his advances but not without getting a black eye and some sore ribs. I ran all the way home.”
“I’m sorry,” Dylan said again. He really was. But if God had been with her that night, she wouldn’t have been attacked. A twinge of guilt tightened his throat.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You?” The single word was like another stab to his gut.
“You should have told someone. Someone you trusted.” His voice cracked and he plowed his hand through his hair.
Christina twisted her lips as if considering how to best explain. “My roommate planted the first seeds of doubt. Would people believe me? The Everett family is well respected in Apple Creek. Roger Senior was the mayor at the time. And what about my brother? He and Roger were in the same army unit. Roger was his captain. Would Roger take it out on my brother? I couldn’t risk Roger not watching out for my brother.”
“So you stayed quiet.”
“So I stayed quiet,” Christina repeated. She shook her head abruptly as if to clear away the memory. “My brother noticed my black eye when I saw him off at the airport, but I told him my roommate accidentally elbowed me in the eye. He was pretty preoccupied with his deployment and didn’t try to pick apart my story.” Christina dragged a piece of hair out of her eyes. “I never told him it was Roger. I had to make sure Roger didn’t lash out at my brother. These guys need to look after each other.”
“Your brother still doesn’t know his friend—” the word dripped with anger and sarcasm and disbelief “—attacked you?”
“No.”
“Now you don’t think it’s a coincidence that Naomi was drugged on Roger Everett’s property.”
“I don’t know what to think. But I have an idea. Ben Reist, the boy who drove Naomi to the clinic can tell us if he saw Roger at the party.”
“Wouldn’t it have been strange to see an adult male at a teen party?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m hoping Ben would remember if he saw him. I found a photo of him and my brother on Facebook.”
“Don’t you think you should take this information directly to your brother?”
“I want to ask Ben myself.” She raised her chin in expectation. “Will you go with me?”
“Yes, but not because I think it’s a good idea that y
ou involve yourself in this investigation. I’m going with you because I’m afraid you’ll go without me.”
* * *
Christina’s knees shook as she climbed out of Dylan’s truck in front of the Reists’ house. What if Ben had seen Roger at the party? Would she finally be brave enough to come forward? Tell people—tell her brother—what happened? Protect other young women from this predator?
A sick feeling swirled in her gut. Had hiding her attack left other women vulnerable? She crossed her arms in front of her, then dropped them to her sides.
I can do this.
“You okay?” Dylan asked as he met Christina around the front of his truck.
Christina let out a raspy breath. “If I had come forward, Roger wouldn’t still be out there hurting girls.”
Dylan gently touched her arm. “You were the victim. Don’t do this to yourself.”
“It’s hard not to.”
“We also don’t know what Roger’s been up to. He may not have been involved in drugging Naomi. Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.”
Christina nodded. “My brother came here last night. Ben wasn’t around.”
“Maybe he’s home now.”
The sound of a door opening drew their attention to the front of the house and they both grew quiet. A woman stood in the doorway behind the screen door watching them. “May I help you?” she called out to them, suspicion lacing her tone.
“Come on.” Dylan urged Christina forward with a hand to the small of her back. When they reached the bottom of the porch steps, he was the first to speak. “Mrs. Reist?”
“Yes?” Her posture suggested she was poised to slam the door in their faces as if they were trying to sell her new windows.
“Hello, I’m Dylan Hunter. This is Dr. Christina Jennings.” Christina imagined he missed the authority of whipping out his FBI badge. “Is Ben home?”
The woman frowned. “A sheriff’s deputy was out here last night looking for my son. He’s still not here. When I heard the car, I had hoped it was him. I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon.” Her tone shifted from annoyance to worry.