by Alina Adams
"So he is missing!"
"Will you help me?"
"Why didn't you tell the police that? What was up with that message? Was that really Jeremy? What are you trying to hide?"
In lieu of an answer, Craig, once again, indicated his open front door. "Would you like to come in and talk about this?”
Bex bit her lower lip. And slowly nodded.
Craig didn't say another word until they were in his living room, door closed firmly behind them, a plethora of objects that Bex imagined could be used to bash her brains in without anyone being the wiser within easy reach. This time, she was the one who chose to stand, even after Craig took a seat on his couch and gestured for her to settle in the easy-chair perpendicular to it.
Bex said, “I’d rather remain poised to flee at any moment."
"I don't blame you."
"Was that a confession?" Bex asked, sincerely hoping the answer would be no. After all, what would she do with one, except be pondering it in the last few, precious moments of her life.
"No," Craig said.
Bex hoped he didn't see her sigh of relief. She cleverly disguised it as a cough. And then she asked, "So what was that with the police? If Jeremy is really missing and you're as worried as you claim, I'd think you'd want their help."
"No. Not the police. Not now. It's all too... complicated now. I have to figure out what's really going on first."
"What a coincidence! So do I!"
"I'm trying to tell you."
"Cool. Let's start with Jeremy's message on the answering machine. His Aunt Felicia. That would be Felicia Tufts Sharpton, right? Because, you know, I read a lot of mysteries when I'm not living in the middle of one, and, in my experience, two characters never have the same name unless there's some obfuscation point to be made, and that doesn't seem to be the case here. Besides, it's all a little too convenient."
"Aunt Felicia is Felicia Tufts, yes."
"What's Robby's ex-wife doing with Jeremy?"
Craig linked his hands together and looked down at his fingers. He rubbed the inside of his left palm with his right thumb until his nail awkwardly bent back from the pressure, not unlike Bex's had earlier from his doorbell. He said, "Rachel and Felicia were friends. Best friends. I mean, long before Robby. They used to skate together as little kids, compete against each other. I think we've maybe got some pictures around here of the two of them, from back when they were these cute little Preliminary Girls, both of them with their hair in pigtails. It was cute... really cute. Jeremy used to love looking at those old pictures when he was younger. I think he had a hard time imagining his mother was ever that small. Rachel didn't keep any of the memorabilia from her later years around. I think it hurt her too much. Or maybe she just didn't care. I was always of two minds about that. I thought: She earned those medals, she ought to hold on to them. But anyway, those early pictures, they weren't really about skating for her. They were about her and Felicia. Rachel is the one who encouraged Felicia to take up Pairs."
"With Robby?"
"No, just in general, I think. Rachel knew Felicia didn't have what it takes to be a Single skater. She didn't have the jumps, her nerves always got the best of her. But, she was small and she was quick... and her parents had the money to afford a pretty good partner. Rachel encouraged Felicia to skate with Robby when the opportunity came up. Hilarious, isn't it? In a way, Rachel brought Robby into all our lives. Not that she knew what she was doing. And I think she realized pretty fast that it wasn't the best match. Felicia and Robby had only been skating together for maybe a year before Lucian Pryce suggested Robby dump her and pair up with Rachel. Rachel was the one who said no, then. She didn't want to do that to Felicia. The only reason she eventually agreed to do it was because Felicia practically begged her to. Felicia realized Robby would do better skating with Rachel than he would with her. And, Felicia, well, she was so crazy about him...."
"I know. She told me. She cared more about his career than she did about her own. I think it's the only positive thing Lucian Pryce can say, in retrospect, about her."
"You've spoken to Lucian?"
"Yes."
"What did he say? About how Robby treated Rachel?"
"In his version, Rachel is the bad guy and Robby the innocent, put-upon victim."
"Yeah. I figured. Lucian thought Robby smacking Felicia around was good for her. Well, good for her skating, anyway. I'm sure he didn't give a damn about her as a person. He probably would have encouraged him to do the same to Rachel, except Rachel, she doesn't really put up with a lot of crap. I mean... I mean, she didn't...." Craig trailed off.
Bex felt sorry for him, she really did. She was even beginning to come around to the idea that maybe Craig didn't kill Rachel, after all.
But, on the other hand, she wasn't getting any younger.
"Rachel and Felicia..." Bex prompted.
Craig nodded. "Right." He cleared his throat, cracked his knuckles and started nervously rubbing his palms one against the other. "Right. Rachel and Felicia. Anyway. Rachel and Felicia had been friends forever. After Rachel took off fourteen years ago, Felicia was the only one from the rink who she kept in touch with."
"Felicia?" Bex couldn't believe it. "The only person Rachel kept in touch with from the rink was Robby Sharpton's wife?"
"Yes. They've been in touch all these years, from even before Jeremy was born. She's Aunt Felicia to him."
"Okay, that's really weird, Craig. Really, really weird."
"Actually, Bex, it gets weirder."
She took a beat. And then she decided to sit down. When Craig Hunt—he of the very, very interesting past and even more interesting present—claimed that something was about to get even weirder, she felt it best to believe him.
Bex settled in the armchair he'd previously indicated. It was brown leather and recently polished. Bex's thighs squeaked as she sat.
She leaned forward, mirroring Craig's posture. She rested her elbows on her knees, and set her chin on her fist. She said, "Hit me, Craig."
He smiled ruefully. He turned his head, looking Bex in the eye.
Then, sounding almost as if he couldn't believe he was actually doing this, Craig told Bex, "Felicia Tufts isn't Jeremy's aunt. She's his biological mother."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As a professional reporter—well, all right, a lowly researcher; but they both started with "r" and ended with "er" and required notebooks and stuff—Bex knew that she would probably never encounter a better occasion upon which to let loose with a stream of "who, what, where, when, why, and how?" Alas, while her brain understood the above quite well, her tongue chose that particular moment to strike like a Teamster deprived of his coffee break.
So, while her mind snapped to attention with a whole host of questions, all brilliant, pithy, and probing, her mouth settled for a combination of the "four Ws and an H," and what actually came out in response to Craig's declaration was, "Wwwwhhhh ..."
"Rachel and I are Jeremy's parents," Craig clarified for the vowel and verbally impaired. "But Felicia Tufts gave birth to him."
"You adopted Jeremy?" Bex pushed the question out past her lips during a brief Novocain break for her tongue. It was like giving birth to a coherent thought.
"Not exactly."
"You kidnapped him?" Bex yelped.
Craig looked at Bex strangely. "You watch a lot of Lifetime movies, don't you?"
"Well, at least if you don't know what's going on there, you can look up the synopsis in TV Guide. You got one of those for me, Craig? Maybe a Cliffs Notes or something?"
"I'm sorry. No, really, I am. It's just, this is a little bit complicated."
"Oh, you don't say?"
Craig leaned back into the couch and momentarily studied the ceiling. His chest heaved, seemingly exhausted, with every breath. The poetic (it was nicer sounding than "peculiar") part of Bex imagined that the truth was like the monster from Alien, desperately trying to claw and throb its way out of Craig's chest in a mess of bloo
d and goo. The more practical (it was nicer sounding than "boring") side could only imagine how exhausted he must be, both from the horrific events of the past few days and all of the long-repressed secrets of the last fourteen years. Anyone with a brain and a heart would obviously know that it just would not be right to rush a person in such obvious physical and psychic pain. But...
Bex said, "So, what's the deal, Craig? What's going on here?"
He took a deep breath. He stopped studying the ceiling. He resumed rubbing his palms one against the other. The rhythmic scrape of dry skin against dry skin slowly began to drive Bex mad, but it seemed to soothe Craig somewhat. He exhaled. "Okay. So, like I said, Rachel and Felicia were friends from the time they were kids. And they stayed friends while Rachel and Robby skated together. After Robby raped Rachel—"
"Lucian Pryce said he didn't." Bex wasn't sure if, sensitivity-speaking, now was the best time to bring this up. But, she figured if Craig was going for full disclosure, so should she. "He says he was there and he heard them—"
"Rachel always knew he heard them, he was practically outside the door."
"He says Rachel and Robby had an affair. That there was no rape."
"Son of a bitch." Craig shook his head as if the memory were a screeching siren he was trying to shake out of his ears. "Goddamn son of a bitch. You know, I'm not big on the whole pop psychology thing. I don't care how many Twinkies you ate as a kid, in the end, you're still the one responsible for your actions, nobody else. But, to be fair the other way, Robby Sharpton may have stumbled into that rink with all the raw material just ripe for a psychopath, but Lucian Pryce didn't exactly put up any barriers in his way. I mean, you've got a seventeen-year-old kid who can't keep his fists to himself, even with a girl half his size; do you maybe suggest that his behavior isn't the most appropriate ever, or do you reward him with gold medals and pats on the head and tell him to "just keep doing what you're doing, son, and we're headed straight for the top." It's bad enough boys who take up Pairs skating or Ice Dance get treated like royalty. The girls and their parents are so terrified of losing them to a better offer that they practically genuflect. There's a kid at the rink, ice-dancer, I think, the girl's parents bought him a car and a condo just so he wouldn't take off and skate with someone else. But, at least they're not encouraging him to beat their daughter. Lucian didn't have that problem. Robby may not have known right from wrong when he got there, but, to be fair, Lucian wasn't exactly role model of the year."
A fascinating digression, to be sure. And, considering that Robby's psychology was still of interest to Bex, seeing as how Craig was adamant that his wife's ex-partner was also her murderer, it wasn't even too irrelevant of one. But, it was off-point for the topic at hand.
"What does this have to do with Felicia being Jeremy's mother, Craig?"
"Everything," he said pointedly. "Considering Lucian's attitude of putting Robby on a pedestal, and Rachel's parents' tendency to sweep any problems she and Robby were having under the rug so as not to rock the partnership, the only person Rachel could turn to after Robby raped her was Felicia."
"Robby's wife?"
"Rachel's best friend."
"You're telling me Robby's coach didn't believe he was a rapist, but his own wife did?"
"Yes. Because Felicia knew Rachel. And she knew Robby. She loved him, but she knew him, too. In a way, I think she was almost happy to hear it."
"Do you have any idea how sick this all sounds?"
"She wasn't happy to hear that Rachel had been hurt, but... Look at it from Felicia's point of view. When she skated with Robby, he used to hit her. Only everyone around her told her to stop being so melodramatic and blowing things out of proportion. How was she supposed to trust her own judgment when everybody was telling her that what she thought was happening, wasn't happening at all? Then, when Robby started skating with Rachel, he didn't hit her. Do you blame Felicia for suspecting that maybe all the previous abuse had been in her head? Add to that the fact that Robby was still hitting her off the ice, then telling her it was because he loved her so much, and that it wasn't abuse, at all. Do you see how it drove her crazy? At least when Rachel came to her and said that Robby raped her, Felicia finally had proof that she wasn't making it all up. Robby really was violent and abusive. That's what I meant by she was happy to hear it. Well, maybe not happy, but relieved. She wasn't crazy."
Bex nodded numbly. The whole situation was so outside her sphere of comprehension, they might as well have been discussing some obscure kinship ritual among the Maori people of New Zealand. (Not that Bex wished, at this or any other point, to infer any sort of wife-abusing tendencies about the Maori, all of whom, she was sure, were good and noble people; she was just using them as a metaphor for her lack of knowledge about many, many, many things.) Bex simply could not wrap her brain around the notion that a woman would not know if she were actually being abused.
"Having Rachel tell her about Robby finally gave Felicia permission to admit—to herself—heck, the rest of us already knew, right?—what kind of man she was married to. The night Rachel told her she'd been raped was the night Felicia decided to leave her husband."
"But..." Bex said slowly. "She didn't. Felicia stayed with Robby for almost another four years, I think. What changed her mind?"
"Jeremy."
"I don't understand."
"The same night that Rachel told Felicia she'd been raped by Robby, Felicia told Rachel that she was pregnant. Also, coincidentally, by Robby."
"A big evening."
"Oh, you don't know the half of it."
"Yes, it certainly looks that way."
"Most women spend their girls' night out watching videos and eating ice cream, or even throwing back shots and picking up men at the local cowboy bar. Not Rachel and Felicia. Their idea of girl bonding was to come up with a plan where Rachel dropped out of sight and she and I raised Felicia and Robby's baby, with him never being the wiser."
"Excuse me?"
"Amazing." Craig came close to cracking a smile for the first time since Bex had met him. "That's exactly what I said when they presented their little plan to me."
"I don't understand." It was a phrase Bex rarely used, and here she'd had occasion to whip it out twice in the span of one evening. This truly was a monumental day.
"See if you can follow this logic. Felicia wanted to leave Robby, but if he knew that she was pregnant, he'd have never, ever let her go. He was obsessive like that. Now, granted, Felicia could have tried to go underground herself, but if Robby ever found out she had a child, he'd put two and two together. He's not the sharpest blade on the ice, but this, he would have figured out. Meanwhile, Rachel didn't ever want to see Robby again. She didn't want to take him to court, she didn't want to talk it out on Oprah. She just wanted to leave and forget about the whole thing."
"That's not a very healthy reaction." Bex had done a piece on post-traumatic stress in rape victims, so that made her practically an expert on the subject.
"That's not how Rachel felt. She told me once, 'If I'd been hit by a car, no one would expect me to spend the next twenty years obsessing about it and analyzing my feelings. They'd expect me to physically recover and move on. Well, Robby is no more important to me than a car. I refuse to give him that honor. He's not a person, he's a thing. I don't want to confront him and I don't want to understand him. I just want to forget him.’”
Bex understood the sentiment, truly she did. It sounded perfectly logical. And yet all of her research indicated, "That's not really the best way to deal with it."
Craig looked up at Bex and asked, not unpleasantly, just sadly, "What difference does that really make now?"
He had a point. Rachel was dead. Her mental health was no longer an issue. On the other hand, who knew whether or not it had contributed to her murder. Still, considering Craig's fragile state, Bex decided to keep that observation to herself for the time being.
She said, "I guess you're right," and hoped he couldn't tell
she didn't mean it.
Craig said, "So Rachel came to me and asked how I would feel about us raising Felicia and Robby's baby."
"And you said?"
Craig smiled ruefully. "Not for mixed company."
"I don't blame you."
"I mean, at that point, I wasn't even old enough to drink yet, and Rachel wanted me to drop everything and play daddy?"
"Oh," Bex said, realizing she'd misunderstood his initial point. "I thought it was because of who Jeremy's father was."
"Nah." Craig shrugged. "That was actually the least of it. Sure, Robby was a bastard, but so—I can only presume—was my own old man. I mean, I never met him, but you rarely end up in foster care because Mommy and Daddy are Parents of the Year. Imagine if Michael and Jenny had decided not to adopt me because of who my parents were. No, Robby being Jeremy's father never really bothered me. In fact, the one thing I agreed with Felicia and Rachel on right away was that he should never know he had a kid, much less be allowed anywhere around him. What I couldn't understand though was why Felicia couldn't just disappear and do whatever she wanted. Her folks had money, it's not like she'd have been destitute. But, Felicia said Robby would want to know why she left him."
"Felicia's bruises wouldn't have clued him in?"
“To be honest with you, Bex, I don't think he saw them."
It was a very odd thing to say. And yet, under the circumstances, Bex actually thought she could grasp what he meant by that.
"Felicia said he would go after her," Craig continued. "Robby hated to lose and he certainly hated to be made a fool of."
"Plus, if both Felicia and Rachel abandoned him at the same time, wouldn't he be out of money to continue skating?"
Craig nodded, visibly impressed by Bex's quick uptake on his bizarre non-nuclear family dynamics. Little did he know she'd been doing nothing but pondering those bizarre dynamics for the past few days. "That was part of it, too. If Robby lost Felicia and skating at the same time, he'd probably go crazy trying to get one or the other back. Felicia couldn't risk that being her."