“Conundrum!” Tristan mutters. I know he means me.
I reach forward and lift the screen back up. At the top of the page it says Smith, Miller & Associates. I click on the button that says ‘Meet Our Team’ I see his face – the fucker – Simon Smith, CEO – Ugh!
Part of me wants to slam the laptop shut, but I’m still intrigued to know more, so I continue to scroll. There’s lots of faces coming up with snazzy job titles, but nothing comes up that’s of any interest to me, so I stop scrolling. I’m about to push the laptop away when I notice there’s two more tabs open at the top. I move the cursor over to the first one and hover over it.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Coral, baby...I just,” Tristan sighs heavily and runs his hand through his hair. “You were sleeping so I thought I’d do a little research, see if I can find anything out,” he says, he looks worried. “I really don't want you seeing this,” he adds.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Just some information on his family, his businesses.” He says frowning at me.
I look back at the screen. “He has a family?” I squeak.
“It would seem so,” Tristan says. I stare back at the tab – I argue with myself for a moment. Do I really want to know? Or do I want to forget it? Curiosity gets the better of me.
“Coral, don't!” Too late.
Tristan has found an old newspaper report. At the top of the screen it says The Guardian March 14th 1992. I scroll a little more. My hand freezes when I see the face of a woman, a redhead that I recognise. “His wife?” I whisper.
Tristan nods once. I look back at the screen and begin reading the report...
‘Following the suspicious disappearance of Mrs Erica Smith in the Cote d’Azure, Scotland Yard have arrested her husband Mr Simon Smith. He has been charged with her homicide and will remain in custody until bail is set. Mr Smith has repeatedly denied any charges, and has ample alibis for the night of her disappearance. Holidaying with friends on their luxury motor yacht in the south of France, Mrs Smith had, according to Mr Smith, stayed on board whilst the remaining party dined in St Tropez, when they returned Mrs Smith had disappeared. Police were called to the scene, and within hours blood and hair samples were taken from the rear of the yacht. Police divers were called to the scene, yet no body was recovered.
‘It has been reported that Mrs Smith was filing for divorce from Mr Smith and had been in talks with the journalist, Brian Evans. Mr Evans has mysteriously disappeared. Mr Evans colleagues have been called in by Scotland Yard to give testimony, following rumours that Mrs Smith was about to blow the whistle on her husband’s corrupt businesses. According to reports, she admitted that her husband had several off-shore accounts and was guilty of fraud and embezzlement. She claimed that ‘Smith’s& Millers Solicitors’ was being used as a front for his apparent dealings with the drugs and human trafficking black market, and most disturbingly, child pornography. However, with no substantial evidence linking Mr Smith to the crime, the judge ruled for a dismissal and all charges were dropped.’
I feel sick. He’s a fucking psycho! A psycho that I threatened. Fuck!My heart starts manically beating against my chest, I can't breathe!
“He bumped her off!” I manage to squeak.
“Baby’ – “I threatened him Tristan, I threatened him!” I shout out. What if he comes after us? What if he hurts Tristan? Oh God! Oh no...
“Hey, stop it.” Tristan says, taking hold of my shoulders and softly shaking me. “There’s no need to be afraid. Nothing is going to happen to us,” he tells me firmly.
“But’ – “Coral, don't worry.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Tristan takes my face in his hands. “Look at me baby.” I open my eyes and see that his eyes have a cool, steely determination. He doesn’t seem worried at all. “This was a long time ago Coral. For all we know, he’s squeaky clean now.” I very much doubt that!
I blink rapidly at him, trying my best not to freak out. “But what if he took my threat seriously....If he...if he hurt you,” I break off and take a deep breath. “Promise me Tristan, promise me you won't do anything about this, I don't care what he did to me...I don't care!”
“Hey.” Tristan pulls me against his chest, holding me tight, rocking me gently. “You always think the worst Coral, everything is going to be fine, I promise you.”
“You don't think he’ll do anything?” I question.
“No. As far as I know he’s a legitimate business man. I’m sure he’s more worried about you spilling the beans than you should be about what you said to him.”
“You really think that?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Yes. I’m positive.” I stare back at him, I see only truth.
“Ok,” I sniff. “What’s on the other tab?” I ask this time, I don't need another shock like that.
“Just random family photo’s,” Tristan says.
I look down at the screen again, for some unknown reason I’m intrigued. Maybe it’s because I can't understand how a man that did that sort of thing to kids, would have a family of his own.
I pick up the laptop and start scrolling again. There’s a photo of him, and then underneath that there’s another photo in which he has his arm around a small boy, he looks afraid, so unhappy.
I read the information below the photo. ‘Dillon Smith with his father Simon’. I stare at the boy again, and I suddenly realise why I recognise him.
I swallow hard. It can't be true – can it? Bile rises in my throat. I start shaking my head in disbelief.
“What?” Tristan stiffens beneath me.
“Him,” I whisper, shakily pointing at the boy.
“What about him?” Tristan softly pushes.
“He…” I turn and stare wide eyed at Tristan. “He’s the boy,” I add, my voice barely audible.
“What boy baby?” He asks, his voice still soft.
“The boy that….” I shake my head. “I was made to…” I frown down at the screen – He made his own son do it, what a sick bastard!
“Baby, you’re worrying me, take a deep breath and tell me,” he says.
As I continue to stare wide-eyed at the boy, I do exactly that, breathing in and out several times. Ugh! I feel sick again. Then all of a sudden a strange calm washes over me. Dillon looks so sad in the photo, a little older than I remember him. But I do remember how scared he was – terrified actually. I can't believe his own father made him do this. I shake my head, poor kid!
I take another deep breath and turn to Tristan. “Tristan, this is the boy I was made to have sex with.”Tristan stares blankly at me for a moment, then looks down at the photo of the scruffy, dark haired boy with the sad look in his eyes.
“You’re sure?” He whispers.
“Yes, I would never forget his face.” Just like I’ve never forget his father’s – Ugh!
“So the boy you were made to…it’s his son?” He says incredulously.
I silently nod, and look back at Dillon. He looks ill, he has dark rings under his eyes, and he’s pale and skinny.
“But…that…?” Tristan seems as shocked as I am. “His own son?” He gasps, slowly shaking his head.
I start scrolling again, there’s several more photos of Dillon, and he’s not smiling in any of them. “Do you think we can find him?” I ask.
“Do you want to?” He gasps.
“Yes, I think I do.”
“Why?” He breathes.
“I don't know,” I whisper. I stare back at all the photos of him. I stop when I see one that reminds me of a photo Gladys once took. I was six or seven, standing up like Dillon is. I remember she wanted a photo of me with John and Joyce. They both came and knelt behind me, John had reached up and put his arm around my shoulder, in the photograph I am grimacing, my eyes wide with fear – I hated the fact that he was touching me.
In this photo, Dillon has a man crouched down behind him too, he has his hands on Dillon’s hips. Dillon’s jaw is clenched and his hands are balled up into fists, his eye
s wide with fear. Why do I get the feeling that he doesn’t like to be touched? Like me?
“Baby, I don't think that’s a good idea,” Tristan says.
I sigh inwardly, probably not. “He doesn’t look very happy, does he?” I whimper.
“No baby, he doesn’t,” Tristan replies.
“Poor Dillon.” I shake my head. “God knows how long it went on for him.” I shudder and look away from the screen for a moment, but I can't seem to stop. I want to see more of the boy that went through the same horror as me, so I continue scrolling. Then I change my mind, it’s just more photo’s of Dillon and his sicko father. Just as I’m about to stop, I see half a photo at the bottom of the screen.
Two boys this time, one is Dillon. I cock my head to the side, there’s something familiar, something about the shape of the other boys forehead. I read the line above the photo – Dillon Smith with his big brother Kane.
I scroll down and see that the boy Kane, is stood next to Dillon, his arm around him. Dillon is grimacing again, his brother Kane is smiling widely at the camera, a defiant glint in his eye.
I drift off, remembering something from my past. He was there, when it was all happening. I mean several kids were bought along, but I remember, Kane was always there, in the background. I remember the strange look in his eyes, like he was enjoying it. But my instinct is telling me there’s more to this, more to the boy with the crazy look in his eyes. But what?
“Coral, I really think you should stop this now,” Tristan says.
I shake my head at him. I’m mesmerised by what I’m seeing. “His brother, I remember, he...he was always there...in the background...” I whisper.
Tristan groans as though he’s in pain.
As I continue to scan the photos, I suddenly freeze. I can only see the man’s hair and his forehead, but I recognise that forehead, the style of his hair. I shake my head slightly. It can't be, surely? That would just be too freaky to be coincidence?
“What?” Tristan asks, but I don't answer him. “Coral, what is it baby, what have you seen?”
I shakily press the button so the screen scrolls down, my heart is in my mouth, my ears are ringing and I can feel the blood pumping through my veins.
And there he is, Kane Smith, the man who raped me is staring back at me. Almost black hair, bright blue eyes, chiselled features. He’s smiling in the photograph, but I can see the evil behind those eyes, the malicious intent – just like his father. A rush of adrenalin floods my system. He told me his name was Sam! I don't believe this!
I start shaking my head in denial, this is some kind of sick fucking joke!
“Coral, what’s wrong?” Tristan says, shaking me gently, trying to pull me out of it.
I close my eyes for a moment, my hands gripping into fists. No, no, no....This can't be happening!
I open my eyes and with careful controlled movements, I put the laptop to the side, get to my feet and start pacing, my hands gripping my hair, my breath coming in sharp gusts.
This is...unbelievable! – I want to scream, both of them, in one foul swoop!
“Coral?” Tristan softly says. “Please tell me what’s going on.” His voice is strained, I can tell he’s hurting and I don't want to cause him any further pain, he’s been through enough.
I take several deep calming breaths, when I feel ready, I open my eyes, climb onto his lap and wrap my arms tightly around his neck.
“You promise?” I whisper, inches from his face, my eyes pleading with his.
“Yes. I promise.” Tristan says, slightly bemused.
Keeping my eyes firmly locked on his I say the words. “He’s the guy that raped me.”
Tristan instantly stiffens beneath me, it’s like every muscle in his body has reacted. It feels like I’m sitting on a hard rock, not a human body. His eyes instantly turn dark. His cheeks have flushed and his breathing has kicked up, his jaw is tensing too, but he keeps his eyes locked on mine. We stay like that for a while, just staring at one another. I’m glad Tristan hasn’t freaked out, it wouldn’t do either of us any good if he did.
He swallows hard, then reaches up and tenderly places his hand on my cheek. “You’re sure?” he says, his voice wavering.
“Tristan, I would never forget his face.” I whimper, then I realise something, something I hadn’t pieced together before. I gasp again. “He did know me! The fucker knew me when he raped me, he recognised me – He knew!” I screech – I feel outraged.
I get up from Tristan’s lap and start pacing again, I grip my hair in my fists while I try to work it out. He must have seen me, recognised me, and decided to pursue me, knowing all along what he was going to do. Something is recalled from deep within my psyche, something I thought I heard him say when I was half-conscious and he was raping me...I always wondered what it would be like with you...
I fall to the floor my knees giving way on me.
Then I feel it, the rage flooding my veins, I bring my fists up and slam them down onto the floor, over and over again. Tristan is instantly over to me, he crouches behind me, takes hold of my arms and pulls them against my chest.
“Stop Coral, stop!” He wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tight.
“My mom was right Tristan,” I croak. “I remembered something he said to me when he was raping me, he said, ‘I always wondered what it would be like with you’ He knew Tristan, he knew!” I scream out in rage.
“Jesus...” Tristan breathes, squeezing me tighter.
I feel angry, sick and violated all over again – Mother Fucker!
The anger quickly turns to tears. The floodgates open and I cry angry, wretched tears, howling out loud as the realisation keeps hitting me over and over again. I don't think I’m going to be able to stop. Tristan doesn’t move an inch, he just stays on the floor with me, his arms tightly wrapped around me...
It takes a while for me to calm down, but once the crying has ceased, Tristan helps me to my feet. I take another bathroom break because I need to clean up my face, and when I’m done, I head back into the living room.
Tristan is stood up, waiting for my return, I’m trying not to, but I feel angry again, and vulnerable and stupid! How could I have not seen it?
Tristan has poured us both another Brandy. He takes my hand and sits me down on the sofa. “Here baby, drink this.” He says, handing me a glass.
“I shouldn’t” I say.
“Baby, one more isn’t going to mess with your painkillers, besides I think you need it. Take it baby drink it.” I take the glass of Tristan and take a sip. Tristan gestures for me to sit on his lap again, so I clumsily climb onto him. “How are you feeling baby?” He softly asks.
“Angry and stupid.” I spit. “I can't believe...” I break off and stare blankly ahead.
“That you knew him?” He questions. I look up and nod. Tristan tenses his jaw several times. I can see it in his eyes, he wants to kill him, to kill both of them – I’m instantly worried.
“Tristan, promise me you won’t do anything stupid, if it got back to you, linked to you...” I take a deep breath. “If anything happened to you...” I trail off not wanting to think about it.
Tristan takes a deep breath and slowly blows it out. He still hasn’t looked at his laptop. I think he’s trying very hard not to lose it, like if he does look at the screen, at Kane’s photo, he’ll punch it to the floor in anger.
“Promise me,” I prompt.
“I won't do anything, I promise.” He states, his voice firm, sharp.
I smile tentatively at him. “Ok.” I take another sip at the same time as Tristan, for some reason it makes me smile.
“I’m glad you told me what happened last night. I’m glad you didn’t keep this to yourself, or try to handle it on your own,” he says, but he’s miles away, I can tell.
“I did contemplate not telling you. I was going to get another P.I report.” Tristan stiffens once more beneath me. “But then I thought no, you’ll handle it. Like you are now, I should give you more
credit.”
“I don't feel like I’m handling it,” he says through gritted teeth. “Inside I’m screaming!”
I wrap my free arm around his neck and bury my head under his chin, he starts stroking my back, making me feel safe and warm. We sit silently for a while, sipping our Brandy’s, both deep in thought...
“What do you want to do Coral?” I look up at Tristan, he’s glaring at Kane’s photograph, eyes wild with hate and fury.
“I don't know,” I say, frowning deeply. “Well as in so much as I don't know what to do about it, now that I know who they are. I don't want to go to court, but I don't want them to get away with it either.” I swallow hard. Why do I want retribution? I’ve never wanted that before, but I guess that was before I knew who either of them were. I guess knowing changes things.
“Maybe that’s what we should do?” I emphasise the ‘we’. “You know, have him investigated? They might find some incriminating evidence that Kane’s done this before, which I’m sure he has, and as for his father....” Tristan is still glaring at Kane but nods once in agreement.
We’ve got to get the fucker back, somehow! He can't get away with this! Ugh! The sheer audacity of Simon last night, and then Kane...raping me because he just wondering what it would be like? Sick fucks! –Ugh! I hope they both rot in hell when they die!
I gulp back the last of my Brandy and place the glass on the coffee table, I feel drained now.
“You look tired,” Tristan says, spookily reading me again. He glances at me, then locks eyes with Kane, but his look has changed, the pure rage has gone, something else has replaced it, but I don't know what. Is it revenge?
I lean forward and slam the laptop shut. “No need to look at his ugly mug anymore,” I croak.
Tristan sighs, as though it’s in relief. “Baby, do you want me to come and lie down with you?”
“I need you more than sleep Tristan.” I take a deep breath. “I need you to comfort me. I don't want to be on my own,” I say, my voice trembling again.
“Oh baby!” He pulls me closer to his body, squeezing me tight. “Has it bought it all back?” He questions darkly.
Darkest Fears Trilogy: Fallen For Him / Freed By Him / Forever With Him Page 125