“I don’t want to talk to the Chief.” She whines, and starts unbuttoning her jeans. Then she flops back onto her elbows, and I wince at the whacking noise. It might not hurt now, but that’s going to smart in the morning.
My hands work as if I’ve left my own body and pull her pants down. I try not to flip her back as I shimmy them from her ankles and toss them onto the floor. Her face is pale, and she’s starting to breathe rapidly. Maybe I should call an ambulance. Just spray her with some cold water and let her puke into the toilet, she’ll be fine.
I try to get my hands to stop shaking as I turn on the cold water and pull the showerhead out of its cradle. As soon as the water hits her bare flesh, Anastasia moans and tries to get away. She vomits at the front of the tub, and I try not to let my own dinner come up with hers. It’s not exactly glamorous, and even though she’s in nothing but her underwear, sex with Anastasia is as far from my mind as it is from a nun’s.
“Alright, some water and then you can crash. But we’re going to see the Chief of police tomorrow morning. If you’re right about this, then Henry Cooper is your father’s killer and your kidnapper.” She’s too far gone to hear my words, and I hose her hair off before I towel her dry. I don’t have to help her slip out of her underwear and bra, but I do have to peel her off me and shove her under the covers.
“I have to get the water.” I try to sound stern, but she laughs at me and rolls onto her side. I make sure to pour the rest of the vodka down the drain and get her a large glass of water. By the time I return, her breathing is heavy, and I can tell that she’s passed out. For the rest of that night, I sit up in bed and read the rest of my book, checking on her occasionally to make sure that she’s still alive.
Chapter Nine
Anastasia
“Please, it hurts, just turn off the damn TV!” I put my hands over my ears to stifle the noise, but it’s not helping as much as I would prefer. A glass of water appears in front of me with two pills, and I down them without even asking what they are. Jonah has a strange look on his face as he starts popping bread into the toaster.
“Do you remember anything from last night?” I sincerely hope I didn’t sleep with him, although I vaguely remember throwing myself at him naked.
“I remember cold water, nudity, and-” I stop when it finally comes rushing back to me. He notices the moment I remember our discussion on the couch, well, my confession really. My ears begin to ring, and my face flushes with my humiliation, but he doesn’t say a word to alleviate it or make it worse.
The toast pops up, and butter is slathered onto it, then he puts peach jam all over it, and sets the plate in front of me gently. My stomach flip flops and practically turns itself inside out just at the smell, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep even a piece of toast down. But when I look up at Jonah’s stern look, I know that I’m not going to get away with not eating breakfast this morning.
“After you’re finished that, we’ll talk.” He uncrosses his arms and starts making himself a cup of coffee and some eggs. I choke down my toast in a few bites and wash it all down with some water. Then I stumble my way to the couch and curl up in a ball with a pillow under my head. It’s been a few years since I’ve drank that much, and my body is no longer used to it.
True to his word, Jonah sits down beside me on the leather couch and puts a hand between my shoulder blades. I feel the tension starting to melt away as he methodically moves his knuckles over my flesh in a circular motion. My breathing starts to deepen as sleep starts to set in, and he lets me sleep the rest of it off until nine or so.
Then I’m woken up with a gentle shake and another glass of water shoved into my face. With the orders that I must drink the entire glass, Jonah helps me sit up and props me against the pillows. I take a hesitant sip, and let the liquid slide down my dry throat. The headache has subsided to a gentle pulse right between my eyes.
“We need to talk now.” Instead of sitting beside me, he sits down on the ottoman in front of me with his hands on his knees.
“Talk about what?” I decide that playing dumb might be my best option at this point. What I said last night was stupid, and I should have never mentioned it to him. I’m pretty sure that the man who kidnapped me was Henry Cooper, but if I’m wrong, I could embarrass his entire family. What if he does to his child what he did to you? My subconscious whispers to me.
“Anastasia,” I hate the way he says my name as if I’m some sort of hurt animal in need of consoling. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I try to keep my emotions in check. Jonah isn’t the one who hurt me.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a different person, Jonah. I’m the same girl you knew yesterday. What happened to me six years ago made me different, but I’ve moved on.” It’s a lie. I’ve been able to bury the emotions for a long time with immersing myself in work, and now my father’s death, but since I stopped making myself into what I was called six years ago, I haven’t slept with anyone. Thinking about a relationship frightens me. I hate the word.
“I know you’re no different than yesterday, but Henry Cooper deserves to pay for what he did.” I’m staring at his hands that have gone from flat to fists in a matter of a few seconds. No one, but Benjamin and Henry Cooper know what happened to me that night, and I don’t think I could stomach admitting it to the cops. Besides, there’s no evidence now for me to prove my case.
“It was a long time ago.” I’m about to tell him to just let it go, but Jonah’s eyes changed and grow dark right before me. Except I know that it’s not Tom looking at me through Jonah’s eyes, it’s still him. It’s the part of him that he likes to keep hidden away from everyone else. Sometimes I forget I’m dealing with a person who could potentially be dangerous.
“I don’t care if it happened fifty years ago. He has to pay for his actions, and you might not be the only girl who he hurt. You said he was looking for a tape?” Wow, did I tell him that? I guess I did last night. The chilling part is he could be right, and by me keeping mum about the entire thing I might be inadvertently allowing that loser to do to other women what he did to me.
“You’re right. But maybe I should just tell the police about the fact that he had the same eyes.” Jonah’s face softens as he reaches out a hand to touch my cheek, and I involuntarily lean into his touch. For just a second I take the comfort that is offered, and then I move away from his hand and clutch the pillow to my chest as if that will help me.
“Do what you think is right. I’ll be there during and afterwards. I won’t leave you alone.” His hand rests on my shoulder, and in that moment I know I could love Jonah Quinton. He’s the rock I never trusted anyone else to be, and somehow he’s slipped right under my defenses and made himself a home in my heart.
I can only hope that he doesn’t tear it to shreds after this moment.
“Okay,” I tell him trustingly. There’s no going back from this moment. I think we both know that something monumental happened last night, and our friendship has the potential to blossom into something else.
Jonah’s hand finally falls from my shoulder to my upper arm before he lets it rest back on his knee. He looks conflicted, but doesn’t tell me what it’s about. Now that we’ve had the discussion he wanted, I believe he’s unsure of where to go from here. So pick up his cellphone off the coffee table and search on the internet for the precinct’s phone number. Then I make one of the most important phone calls of my life before I’ve even showered or completely gotten rid of my hangover.
“Chief Roberts’ extension please.” I tell the woman when she picks up on the second ring. I’m asked for my name and provide it to her.
“Just a moment,” She tells me as I hear her dialing the extension and patching me through. It rings three times, and I’ve almost lost my nerve by the third ring. Then he picks up with a rough sounding voice, and I wonder if I wasn’t the only person who had a little too much to drink last night.
“It’s Anastasia D’Salvatore,” I tell him a
nd wait a few seconds for that to sink in. “I have some information for you that I think is pertinent to my father’s murder case.”
“Well shit, come in as soon as you can!” He sounds a little exasperated and excited at the same time, and Jonah’s hand slips onto my knee. Now that he knows I won’t flinch from him when he touches me, it seems he can’t get enough of the action.
“I can be there in an hour.”
“Why so long?” I hold my breath for a few seconds until he finally gets my drift. “Oh, I see. Uh, an hour it is.” We say our goodbyes and hang up.
Jonah runs a hand through his dark hair and his eyes remain the stormy blue they were when we first met. We’re both silent as I twist the phone around and around in my fingers until he finally takes it from my grasp gently and holds his hand out to me. There seems to be a general consensus that neither one of us will speak about what I’m going to do in an hour.
I release his hand when I get to my door, and it immediately goes up to my upper arm. “You’re doing the right thing,” he tells me softly before he lets go of me and heads for his own room. I smell a little, and I need to brush my teeth again, so I quickly slip into my room to shower.
Now that I have an option of clothes to wear, I pick out a long sleeved, black shirt with a U neckline and a pair of black jeans. Today doesn’t feel like much of a color day. My shower is brief but scalding, and I hear Jonah jump into his own as I turn off the water. We’re both ready physically to head out, but I can’t bring myself to touch the door knob that opens the front, suite door.
Jonah reaches his hand out and twists it open for me, and then he holds an umbrella over me as we descend the stairs and head for the rental car. Something in him seems to have changed, and I can’t tell if I like the preferential treatment or not. I mean, being escorted to a car with an umbrella over me is nice, but do I really want him to treat me this way for the rest of- I stop that thought cold. Where was I going with that?
I decide not to look into it. Instead, I give Jonah a warm thank you and sit down in the passenger seat. My brain seems to be on overdrive lately, and I really just wish I could be back in the city, in my apartment. I should have gotten a cat. Then I would have something to return to. But I’ve already started the process of getting the place rented out.
Our trip to the police station is not near far enough or long enough for me to be calm by the time we pull up to the doors. The rain is coming down in sheets now in front of us, and lightning is lighting up the morning sky. I feel thunder rumble through my chest, and wonder if this is a bad omen. My stomach clenches with nerves and fears as Jonah comes around the car, opens up my door, and proceeds to attempt to protect me from the rain coming down. It’s no use. It’s blowing sideways, and I’m pretty wet by the time we get to the doors. As soon as it opens up, the receptionist is standing up from her desk.
“Oh! It’s raining cats and dogs out there, and Chief didn’t tell me anyone was coming by! Let me go get you some towels before you sit, you look miserable.” I’m about to open my mouth and tell her that it’s not the rain that is making me miserable, but I decide against it. My father’s case is still open, and everyone is a suspect in my eyes. Well, except for the Chief of Police and Jonah Quinton. I’m pretty sure he didn’t kill my father.
In fact, I’m pretty sure that if he had not been in that cabin he would be dead right now.
The middle-aged woman returns with two towels in hand that are a little worse for the wear, but I accept it graciously. I’m wringing out my platinum hair when the Chief finally comes out to greet us, and Johan’s hair is sticking up at all different angles because he toweled his hair off as he would after a shower. It makes him look as though he’s ready for a romp between the sheets, or a good snuggle fest on the couch. I try to steer my thoughts away from that route.
“Will you wait out here?” I ask him quietly. He looks upset by my request, but I don’t want to have to relive the details of my rape six years ago in front of a guy I might sleep with. I don’t want him to think about that if we get that far.
“I will, but Anastasia-” He grabs my arm before I can get away, and leans down so that our noses are touching. For a moment, we both breathe each other in. It’s one of the most intimate times of my life, and I’ve had sex hundreds of times already. This is something more. “You’ll come get me if you need me.” It’s not a question or a request, but a demand. I nod anyway.
The Chief clears his throat uncomfortably, and Jonah lets me go reluctantly. I try not to feel closed in by the gray, brick walls as we head back to the Chief’s office. And I try not to let the sound of my shoes clinking on the gray tile flooring to make me feel loud and obnoxious. Despite the dreary look of the place heading back, Chief Robertson’s office is actually pretty cozy. He has pictures of his small family hanging on the walls of all sorts of monumental events in his kid’s lives. My favorite is the one with him holding up a three or four year old boy with a baseball glove on and a ball in his hand.
“What’s his name?” I ask him before I sit down, studying the pictures.
“Michael, but my wife calls him Mickey. I’m trying to get her out of it though.” I wrinkle my nose and smile at the same time while I sit.
“I like Mickey, it’ll set him apart.” The Chief looks like that’s exactly why he doesn’t want to call his son Mickey, but I won’t tell him how important it is for his son to get used to being set apart. His father’s Chief of Police.
“So, do I have to arrest Quinton yet?” He has one eyebrow quirked as he looks down at some paperwork on his desk, and I hear the amusement in his tone.
“No, not yet. I’ll let you know if it comes to that.” I feel a smile tugging at my own lips and think to myself, what the hell, and let it out.
“Good, good.” He pulls out a tape recorder, and I feel my skin grow chilled at the sight of it. This reminds me of after my kidnapping. “Now I want you to tell me how you came about this information and what it is. So shoot.” I wince at the terminology, and he shrugs once in apology.
“I was at Mrs. Hash’s party yesterday.” I begin, and he holds up his hand.
“So was I.” I look at him imploringly, and he waits for me to go on. I don’t want to be interrupted while I’m telling this story because I might chicken out halfway through.
“Jonah and I were sitting at the picnic table when I saw him. I remember his eyes.” He stops me again.
“You saw the man who kidnapped you?” I feel like I’m being prompted.
“Yes, I saw the man who kidnapped me. I remember the build of him and his eyes. They were hazel with brown coming out from the center, and encircled in a darker brown. They’re original eyes, or they seemed that way at the time. Anyway, Henry Cooper is the man who took me into that small cabin in the woods and asked for the whereabouts of a tape. I left abruptly from the party after having seen him.”
The Chief is scribbling on a piece of paper, as well. I wonder why he would write down what I’m saying, and then I realize that he’s writing down how I’m appearing in this moment. I really have sweat on my brow? I wipe it away quickly and try to look a little sheepish for reading his writing.
“So you suspect that Henry Cooper is the man who killed your father, burned down your barn, and kidnapped you? Over a tape?” I nod and feel as if he’s mocking me. Why would he do that?
“Henry has only been here for a week and a half. He might have burned down the barn and kidnapped you, but he was away on business when your father was murdered.” My jaw clenches and I wonder why I didn’t think of that in the first place. Of course, he was away, Mrs. Hash said he had just gotten back.
“I must have been mistaken.” I say apologetically, wringing my hands in my lap. I’m debating on whether or not to tell him about what happened to me when I was younger. But what’s the point now? I’m almost positive it was Henry who kidnapped me, but there probably isn’t any physical evidence to compare him with. Or is there? “Do you have any fibers from w
hen I was admitted into the hospital? Maybe you could just run a quick DNA test.” I try hopefully.
“We do have a hair that was on your clothing. I could look into it, Ana. But isn’t there a possibility that you might have been wrong? I don’t understand why a man like Henry Cooper would risk his career and his family’s reputation like this.” I want to point out to him that a lot of serial killers have perfectly normal family lives and work lives. It’s when they are away from their families and work that they become murderers.
“Just compare it and get back to me, please. Worst comes to worst I’m wrong, and Henry endures a little bit of ridicule for a day. Do it quietly and he won’t even have to endure that.” I stand abruptly from the chair with some heat in my voice, and try to remind myself that Chief Robertson has no idea what happened to me when I was fifteen. He wouldn’t understand why I’m a little upset about the fact that he’s questioning my judgment. The fact is, I’m questioning my judgment.
“You had a drink at Mrs. Hash’s the other day, I was there, Ana. Remember I said that?” I look down at the recorder still running, and he grudgingly flicks it off.
“Yes, I had some champagne, but not enough to inebriate me.” He looks me up and down suspiciously.
“You’re awfully short and thin, my guess is you weigh around a hundred and ten pounds. Which means a few sips of champagne would render you unable to drive legally. Sometimes the mind plays tricks on us.” Now he’s really starting to make me doubt myself, which makes me even angrier.
“I see, Chief Robertson. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day.” Before he can stop me, I march out of the office and down the hall with my shoulders squared and my back ramrod straight. Would he even believe me if I told him about what happened to me at the hands of Henry Cooper six years ago? Or would he just push that off as my wild imagination or inebriation? Maybe he would even go as far as saying that it wasn’t rape, and I was just construing it that way.
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