by Glenn Trust
She figured that seeing as how all the good Lord had seen fit to give her in this world was her body, she could use it any damn way she wanted to…or let others use it for a price. She’d been turning tricks since she was fourteen, selling it whenever she needed money…on her own terms…in control.
But this was different…this was rape…or what she thought rape must be like. The big man pinned her down and forced her, took pleasure in making sure he hurt her, barely let her breathe.
It didn’t matter what they were paying her, or if they were going to pay her at all, she had to get away from them. Accustomed to coarse men who needed what she had to offer, this was different. These were dangerous men, mean and angry.
Grandma would have called them devil men, sent from hell to torment souls who didn’t believe in Jesus. She focused on the image of her grandmother’s face, floating in her mind. It was a good face, round and red in the cheeks. Thinking of her grandmother helped her forget the hot, foul-smelling breath, and the slobbery rough bites from the man on top of her.
Grandma had been the one solid thing in her life, the one person who had not deserted her…at least until the good Lord decided to take her away, dead from ovarian cancer at the age of forty-nine. She hadn’t ever had much use for the born again religion her grandmother had tried to teach her, but she loved her grandmother and she was loved back. That was a good memory, being loved back by her grandma.
When grandma had gotten sick, she tried to explain.
“It’s the good Lord’s will, Danielle,” she had said. Good that he was taking her away…calling her home. Sometimes his will was a mystery, but they had to believe…have faith in the Lord’s purpose.
Standing beside the fresh earth of the grave, damp and fragrant on an autumn day, she had decided that if it was the good Lord who took her away like that…crying with the pain, drugged up so she didn’t even know her own granddaughter…not even able to hug her one last time…if it was the Lord, who did all that…Danielle couldn’t see much good in him.
Albert grunted a long low groan and lifted himself up on his knees. Danny took a deep breath as his substantial weight lifted from her chest.
“My turn!” Bain hopped to his feet in the bed of the pickup, pulling at the front of his trousers, trying to open the fly.
“Make it quick.”
“You took your time. I reckon I’ll take mine.”
Albert cuffed him in the side of the face and grinned. “Make it quick.”
“Who the hell you think you’re slappin’ around like that?”
“My little brother, that’s who.” He punched Bain on the shoulder. “Make it quick so we can take a little trip over to Atlanta.”
“Atlanta? What’s in Atlanta?” Bain nodded at the girl lying in the bed of the truck, watching the action between the brothers, a look of dispassionate resignation on her face. “We got her.”
“Best strip clubs in the south…hell maybe the whole country. I figure we go hang out…maybe we find another…” He nodded down at Danny, the whore. “Another like her.”
Bain grinned. “Right. Then we’d both have one.” He dropped down between Danielle’s legs, pulling his pants down around his knees. “I’ll be quick! I’ll be damned quick!”
27. Yes, Sir!
“Who did it?”
Lyn stared down at her mother’s battered body.
Chief Deputy, Mike Darlington, put his hand on her shoulder. “Ms. Stinson. I need you to talk to me.”
Holding an ice pack the paramedics had given her to her fractured cheekbone, she cringed away from Darlington’s touch. She shook her head slowly, taking her eyes away from her mother for a moment.
“No?” Darlington leaned in closer trying to understand. “Are you saying you don’t know who did this?”
“It was dark,” Lyn whispered.
“Inside? You mean it was too dark inside to see who attacked you and your mother? Were the lights off?”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell who it was.”
“Isn’t Carl Stinson your father?”
Lyn looked at him without responding.
Darlington decided to take a more direct approach. “Was it Carl Stinson? Did he assault you and your mother?”
Lyn’s eyes fell and focused on her mother.
“We need to go.” The paramedic stood up from Ruby Stinson and looked at Darlington as his partner rolled the stretcher into place beside her.
Darlington nodded at Ruby. “Will she live?”
“I think so...hard to tell...a lot of internal injuries. Whoever did this nearly strangled her and kicked the shit out of her.” The paramedic’s eyes darted to Lyn. “Sorry.”
Lyn looked up from her mother, uncertain why the paramedic had apologized.
“Anyway,” the medic continued, “we need to get her to a trauma center…Jacksonville’s the closest.”
“Right.” Darlington nodded and looked at Lyn. “What about her?”
“She needs attention too. Not critical, but she should probably ride with her mother.”
“Okay.” Darlington reached out and took Lyn’s arm. When she started to pull away, he held on gently, but firmly. “Come with me Ms. Stinson. We’ll get you loaded into the ambulance. They’ll take good care of your mother, don’t worry about that.”
He closed the front passenger door behind her, waited for her to look at him and said, “It’s not right what he did. I believe you know who it was. We have to make sure this never happens again. I need you to try to remember…to tell me…to say…who did this.”
She nodded and avoided his gaze by looking down at her lap. “I’ll try.”
When Ruby Stinson had been loaded into the back with the paramedic kneeling beside her taking vitals and communicating with the emergency room staff in Jacksonville, Darlington looked around the small clearing where the shabby house sat. Two deputies stood on the porch waiting for instructions.
“What are you two standing there for?”
The chief deputy was irritated. One turned as if to jump off the porch, the other started to go into the house. Both stopped. The senior deputy looked at Darlington and ventured a question.
“We gonna make an arrest, or what?”
“No. We are not going to make an arrest,” Darlington said with a scornful smirk. “Process the crime scene, dust for prints, full photo package, look for anything, I don’t care how small it is…anything that might identify the son of a bitch who assaulted those women.” He threw his clipboard down on the porch. “We are going to do some goddamned police work and figure out who did this.” His voice rose. “Then we are going to make a goddamned arrest!”
“Yes sir!” They said in unison and scurried out of the chief deputy’s way.
28. Damn Well Make Sure
He almost ignored the call. It was an unfamiliar number. Things might have been much different if he had…not better perhaps…but different.
It was a Florida area code. He thumbed the button to answer. “This is Clay.”
“I…I, uh…”
“Lyn? That you?” He moved away from the noise of construction. Cy was framing up a wall with a nail gun He put a finger to his ear to drown out the noise. “What’s wrong?”
It was a fair question. She never called him. Any communication they had was routinely instigated by Clay.
“It’s Mama…”
“What about your mother?”
“She’s hurt.”
“Hurt? What does that mean? Where are you?”
“She’s hurt awful bad. I don’t know how bad. They won’t tell me. They say she might not live?”
“What?” Clay left the building and went outside to the curb. “Who won’t tell you?”
“The hospital people. They just say it’s awful bad…she might die.” Her voice broke into sobs.
“What hospital?”
“We’re in Jacksonville,” she managed to choke out through her tears.
“Can you tell me what happened?
”
There was no response, only the sound of her sobs over the phone.
“Lyn, what happened to Ruby?”
After a long pause, she started to speak. “It was…he came…” Her words stopped for a moment. “I can’t…”
“You can’t what? Can’t say what happened? Who is he? Who came?”
He could only hear her muffled sobs.
“Are you all right? Lyn? Are you hurt?”
There was another long pause and then she said, “Not bad I’m okay.”
“What! Lyn, what did he do to you?”
“Can you come here?”
“I’m on my way. You stay there.” He started to disconnect, stopped and held the phone close to his ear speaking softly. “I love you, Lyn. I’ll be there.” He disconnected knowing there would be no response.
Cy nodded when Clay told him he had to leave, said “Okay. Let me know how things are,” and went back to work. He had been through this once before when Lyn needed help. There wasn’t any point in trying to talk him out of it. Besides, Clay had been right that time. Cy was not about to argue now.
Clay pushed the pickup past the edge of the speed limit on the back roads of southern Georgia and northern Florida. The hundred and fifty miles from Valdosta to the hospital in Jacksonville seemed like a thousand.
As he drove, Lyn’s words repeated themselves in his mind. “It was…he came,” she had said. Clay had an idea who might have come…who might have hurt Lyn and her mother. If he was right, he would damn well make sure it never happened again.
29. All She Could Do
“What time did you get in?” Sharon took the last few steps down the stairs and pulled her robe around her.
George knew she was upset. She never wore a robe in front of him unless she was angry. She had a right to be, he figured.
“Late.”
“I know that.” She sat on the sofa. He sat across from her in the chair where he had been since returning to the house in the night. “When did you get home?”
George turned his eyes away from the window. He had watched most of the night pass and the sun begin to creep up over the horizon. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know.”
Sharon nodded. “Want to tell me where you were?”
“Nowhere, really.” He shrugged. “Driving mostly…I stopped by Ridley Road.”
“Why there?”
“Thinking mostly. It’s quiet there.” He didn’t mention the ghosts that waited for him there, wrapping their cold arms around him.
“Thinking…on Ridley Road?” She leaned forward in the chair. “That’s not good enough.”
“I know.” He nodded and put his head back, closing his eyes.
“Not good enough by a longshot, George Mackey.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “I went to see Darlene.”
“Oh.” Sharon felt her stomach sink. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? What does that mean?”
“It means…” He shook his head, his lip lifting in a smile of disgust. “It means I should have known better.” His eyes softened. What he would say was not what she wanted to hear. “It’s no good…me and the girls…being a family, like you wanted. I know you meant well, but it won’t work…can’t work. It’s done.”
Sharon sat with her hands on her knees looking at the floor for a moment then stood and stepped to the chair. She lifted a hand and rested it against his face. “”I’m sorry. I truly am. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have put the idea in your head.”
“Not your fault. You didn’t put the idea there. It’s always there.” He shook his head and turned it to rest his lips against her hand. He spoke softly, his lips moving against her fingers. “My fault…things that happened long before you were around. You didn’t know.”
They stayed like that for several minutes as the full day came on. Sharon standing over him, resting her hand against his face…his lips pressed against her hand. Then she took her hand gently away and turned to go upstairs to get ready for work.
He wasn’t leaving. She wasn’t leaving. There was that between them. Other than that, she had no idea how to redeem George Mackey from his purgatory.
She brushed a tear away as she brushed her hair, thinking things through. She had no redemption to give. George would have to find that on his own. She could only wait…be there…and hope that it was enough.
She looked in the mirror, into her own eyes, knowing the truth of it. She would be there. It was all she could do.
30. Humans and Their Smiles
“I’m sorry, sir. You can’t go back.” The nurse at the desk on the hospital’s fifth floor stood and leaned towards the man who had started down the hall. “Family only.”
“But I’m…” Clay hesitated. What was he anyway?
The nurse gave him no time to consider his status. “Are you a family member?”
“Uh…no…I guess not.”
“Then you’ll have to wait here.” Pulling a clipboard from the desk at the nurse’s station, she flipped the pages. “Who are you here to see?”
“Stinson. Ruby Stinson. Her daughter called me.”
The nurse’s eyes narrowed. “She did, did she?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Is that a problem?”
“If she called you, I suppose not….if she called you.”
“What do you mean, if she called me? Of course, she called me. I just told you.”
“Well let me put it this way.” The nurse laid the clipboard down. “Someone beat Mrs. Stinson…almost killed her. As I understand it, the police are still trying to determine who that someone was. All I know is it had to be someone big and strong…someone like you, maybe.”
She looked Clay in the eyes waiting for his reaction. He returned her stare and nodded calmly. “Fair enough. I understand.” He motioned towards the door leading back to the secure area. “Is her daughter…is Lyn Stinson there also. If she is, you could get her and have her tell you I’m not the one who hurt Mrs. Stinson. She’s the one who called me and asked me to come.”
After a few seconds, then nurse nodded, picked up the phone and spoke to another at the ICU station outside Ruby Stinson’s room. She put the phone down and looked at Clay. “Her daughter will be out in a moment.”
Clay nodded and turned towards the door to the ICU hallway. The seconds passed slowly until the door pushed open and Lyn stepped through. He sucked in a deep breath.
Her left cheek was swollen and discolored with purple and yellowish streaks running from the cheekbone to her jaw. He ran to her.
The nurse started to step from behind her desk when Lyn put her arms up and held onto Clay, burying her face in his chest. The nurse nodded. That was good enough. As far as she was concerned, Clay Purcell was officially cleared.
Lyn explained to her that the young man was like family and received permission to escort Clay down the hall to Ruby’s room. When he entered, he could only stare in disbelief.
He was familiar with injuries in his work. People got careless, fell from ladders, cut fingers off with saws, banged their thumbs with hammers. He had never seen anything like this, one human being physically demolished by another.
Ruby was so swollen and battered and discolored that he would never have recognized her if Lyn had not brought him there. Tubes fed oxygen into her nose and food down her throat. IVs kept painkillers, antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medications flowing into her. Leads taped to her head and chest monitored her vital signs.
He stepped closer, He had thought that her eyes were closed, but they had only appeared that way because of the swelling. Ruby lifted a finger to acknowledge him.
Gingerly he placed a hand on hers, trying to avoid the needles inserted and taped to her. He leaned close.
“Ruby. Tell me what happened.”
Her eyes closed and her head shook almost imperceptibly. “Lyn…” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Take care of Lyn.”
He nodded. “I will.”<
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After thirty minutes of listening to the ventilator hiss and the monitors beep, Lyn led him down the hall to a small waiting room. She sat in a green, vinyl-covered armchair and he sat across from her on a matching sofa.
He leaned forward. “Tell me what happened, Lyn. Please.”
“He came in…broke the door…beat Mama…hit me.”
“Who?”
“He said if I told he’d kill me and Mama.”
“You have to tell me, Lyn. We have to protect you.”
“No…it’ll just make it worse.”
He reached out and took her hands in his. “Lyn, you have to trust me. I can protect you. I will keep you safe…make sure he can’t touch you. I just need you to say who it was.”
“You know who.” She looked down at her lap. The words had just come out without her willing them. It was too much to say to him. Her eyes lifted, pleading. “Forget that. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes you did. It was your father, wasn’t it?”
The pleading in her eyes turned to terror. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“I have to tell the sheriff. They can lock him up. Put him away so he can’t hurt you.”
“No!” Panic flooded across her face. Her lip trembled. “You can’t tell…not anyone. You don’t know him…the things he could do…things I seen him do…and his brothers. They’re bad…real bad.” She shook her head saying it with finality. “No.”
Still holding her hands, he looked into her eyes and smiled. “All right.” He spoke softly, nodding. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
She relaxed a little and they sat quietly holding hands in the small waiting room. Whitewashed sunlight streamed in through a large window, highlighting the dust on a vase full of artificial flowers. A fly buzzed desultorily around the flowers on an endless search for something living where there was no life.
Lyn watched the fly. Clay watched Lyn. He would keep his promise, he decided. He would not tell the sheriff or anyone else that Carl Stinson had assaulted his daughter and nearly beaten his ex-wife to death. But keeping that promise did not prevent him from issuing a warning, and Carl Stinson would be warned.