Ten Times Guilty

by Hill, Brenda

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I ordered an assortment,” Reese grinned. “If we don’t eat everything, it’s okay. Leftover Chinese is as good as the first time around.”

  It was enough to feed a family for a week, Tracy thought. After all her scrimping, she felt sinfully wicked at the extravagance, but she couldn’t wait to dig in.

  Reese took a small bread plate and mixed a concoction of the sweet and sour with hot-mustard sauce, then added a dab or two of soy sauce. He dipped his egg roll in it and took a bite. Satisfied, he pushed the plate over to her.

  “Karlton Wolfe’s arraignment is scheduled for the twenty-fifth,” he said.

  Tracy glanced up sharply.

  “Don’t worry. You don’t have to be there,” he told her. “It’s just a formality.”

  “But I want to be there.”

  “How about if I pick you up?”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.”

  “I’ve questioned him several times,” Reese said, when they had finished their meal. He picked up a toothpick and bent it in three places.

  “And?”

  “He’s pretty quiet. He hasn’t admitted to any of the assaults. Actually, he doesn’t have much to say about anything. He’s hard-balling it. It’s a good case, though. The D.A. is convinced there’s enough DNA evidence for a conviction.” The toothpick broke and he reached for another one. “But the evidence proves he’s guilty ten times over. He’s the one who attacked Crissy, so I’m satisfied.” He put the toothpick down. “You know the trial’s going to be rough. They’ve made changes in the system, but no matter how many are made, it’s always rough.”

  “I know.”

  “Can you handle it?”

  “Yes.” She smiled at him, her gaze calm and steady. “I can handle it.”

  ***

  Reese stretched out in his recliner, a coffee cup on the table next to him. He kept thinking about Tracy and how different she’d been tonight. Oh, some things were the same—her modesty, her femininity. Those were qualities he supposed were a part of her. But she was no longer the frightened little girl he’d met in that hospital room. Even her voice was different. She was still soft-spoken with a trace of that charming southern accent, but now she spoke with assurance, her voice strong, as if she no longer had any question about what she wanted to say.

  He also thought she viewed the world differently. Her gaze was now steady and confident. Even the way she held herself as she walked was different. He was glad for her. Whatever ghosts had haunted her seemed to have vanished. Or she conquered them.

  Maybe there was hope for broken people after all.

  Someone knocked on the door. Jesus, he hoped it wasn’t Carly. He didn’t think he could handle that tonight. Maybe he could pretend he wasn’t home.

  The knob twisted from side to side.

  “Open up, Reese, I know you’re in there. I saw your car.”

  Christ, Cooper. He bolted up and opened the door.

  “About time,” she said, pushing past him. She stopped in the hallway, uncertain which way to go.

  “Living room’s that way,” he gestured.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice hesitant.

  Reese was curious. He’d never known her to have difficulty speaking her mind.

  “When is that group’s next meeting?” she asked.

  “What group?”

  “You know, the one you’ve been hounding me about. At the hospital.”

  “The Rape Crisis meetings?”

  “Well, I certainly don’t mean Weight Watchers!” She eyed him critically. “Although you should certainly think about it.”

  Reese grinned. “Ah, Coop, you’re back. In answer to your question, I’m not sure, but I can find out. Why?”

  Cooper studied her shoes. “Because I... ah, just might go with you.”

  “Well I’ll be damned.”

  “Just don’t get any ideas about this.” She stormed past him. At the door she called back, “I’ll just give it a look-see.”

  That night Reese couldn’t sleep. Rolling over, he checked the clock by the bed. Three in the morning. Christ. What was keeping him awake? The case was pretty well wrapped up, things were coming together for Tracy, and even Cooper was trying to better her situation. So what the hell was bothering him?

  Maybe that was it. Maybe it was that everyone seemed to be getting their act together. Except him.

  Was he such a pathetic sonofabitch that he was jealous of everyone? God, he hoped not. Or could it be that his own conscience nagged him? Perhaps it was time for him to take the next step to rejoin the human race.

  He padded in his underwear and bare feet to the kitchen, opened the cupboard and took down the bottle of whiskey. He ran his finger over the red seven, then uncapped the brown bottle and inhaled the aroma. Same as always. His mouth watered. He guessed he would always have a hunger for it.

  “Good bye, old friend.”

  He poured the whiskey down the sink, rinsed the bottle and threw it in the trash.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Tracy didn’t expect a visitor to the museum at eight-thirty in the evening. The house had emptied about a half hour ago, so she was sitting at the antique desk working on her budget. Even though Mr. Madden had given her as many extra hours as he could, with the addition of car payments, she was still short for her fall tuition.

  She wanted to enroll at the university to become a rape counselor. She’d talked to an advisor and had her classes lined up—if she could come up with her share of the tuition. If not, she’d have to work another year and start then. But no matter what it took or how long, she wanted to help other women like Suzy had helped her.

  She glanced at the clock. Another ten minutes.

  Just then the front door opened and a tall, slim, blonde woman wearing a white long-sleeve blouse tucked into ivory linen trousers appeared. Simple gold earrings and a thick gold chain were her only jewelry.

  Smiling, Tracy rose to greet her. “You’re certainly welcome,” she said, “but if you go in now, you’ll miss a lot of the house. You’d be better off to come back tomorrow.”

  “I’m not here to see the house,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I’m here to talk to you. You’re Tracy Michaels, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was cautious.

  “I’m Marion Krull from Disclosure Magazine. We’d like to print your story.”

  “My story?” Tracy glanced down at the card the woman handed her. “I think you have me mixed up with someone else. I don’t have a story.”

  “On the contrary, I think you do. You were brutally attacked, then stalked by that attacker. You faced him down and brought him to justice. That’s quite a story, one that our subscribers would be very interested in reading.”

  Tracy was speechless. Such a thing had never occurred to her.

  “I’m interested in knowing your thoughts, your feelings, and most important, how this has affected you,” she went on. “Please, just give it some thought. I’ll get back in touch with you in a couple of days. By the way, just in case you’re interested, this magazine pays handsomely for its features.”

  ***

  All night Tracy tossed and turned. Should she give the interview or shouldn’t she? She didn’t want to. Her sense of privacy rebelled against it. And, she didn’t feel the need to express her thoughts to the general public about what had happened. The only people she cared about already knew the story.

  But the money. She couldn’t overlook the money. It would be such a blessing that she could almost consider it heaven-sent. It would make up for the time she had lost from work and then some. Most of all, it would get her into school.

  The next morning Tracy called Suzy.

  “Well, what do you want to do?” Suzy asked, just as Tracy had known she would do.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

  “You don’t know?” Suzy said. Tracy could hear the skepticism in her voice.
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br />   “For crying out loud!” Tracy was beginning to get irritated at the way Suzy evaded answering questions. “I know what I want to do, I just don’t know if I should.”

  “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s look at the pros and cons. Cons first. What do you have against doing the interview?”

  “I guess the main reason is the loss of privacy,” Tracy told her. “I don’t know if I can deal with everyone knowing what happened. They’ll judge me, Suzy. And even though it shouldn’t matter, I guess deep down it still does.”

  “Let’s face facts,” Suzy said. “Juicy stories like this do sell, and that’s why the magazine wants the story. Ask yourself this. If you agree to the interview, who would it hurt? Would it hurt you, or any of your loved ones?”

  “No, there’s no one in my family to be hurt. Ritchie’s too young, and my friends already know the story.”

  Suzy waited a moment. “So the only argument against it is that some people might judge you. Anything else? Because if there isn’t, how about the pros? There has to be substantial reasons why you are still considering it. So what are they?”

  “Oh, Suzy, only one. Money. And I’m ashamed to be so mercenary about this whole thing.”

  “Money is an excellent reason for you to do it. Right now, you need every penny you can beg, borrow or steal. And since you’d never do any of those things, the interview seems a good way for you to get some cash into your hands.”

  Tracy sighed. “I just can’t get over the feeling I’d be doing something immoral or unethical, or something. But I also can’t forget that the money will get me into the fall classes.”

  “Well, honey, you asked for my opinion, and I’m going to surprise you and tell you, for a change—”

  “For a change?” Tracy broke in.

  Suzy made an exasperated sound. “Do you mind if I continue?”

  “No, go right ahead. As if anyone could stop you,” Tracy said, chuckling.

  “Now see here. I seem to recall you called me. Is that not right?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” Tracy tried to keep from giggling. “Please continue.”

  “As I was saying, if doing this interview gets you into that school, go for it.” She was completely serious now. “Tracy, I want you to listen. To hell with anyone’s opinion. Do what you need to do for yourself and that son of yours. It’s your future, babe. Go for it!”

  ***

  Marion: Tracy, you have told us the facts in this case: you were raped then stalked by the rapist. In the end, you were able to turn him over to the police at gunpoint. My question is, how have you managed to come through all this without losing your sanity?

  Tracy: There were times I felt it would be easier if I did go insane, but I couldn’t. My son depended on me. Still does. And when you have someone totally dependent on you, you have to keep going, no matter what. In some ways, I was very fortunate. I had good friends and I met some truly wonderful women at the safe house. And of course, there was Suzy.

  Marion: Suzy?

  Tracy: Susan Banning from the Rape Crisis Center. Thank God I was fortunate enough to have met her. She helped me get through one of the most difficult periods in my life and I owe her more than I could ever say.

  Marion: So, I assume you think highly of the rape centers and feel they should be allowed to continue. How would you justify their expense to the critics?

  Tracy: (Pause) When a woman is raped, different emotions are involved, and most of the time, she needs expert counseling to get through the trauma. I can’t think of anyone else more qualified than the women of the crisis centers. They are mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and, best friends. They don’t criticize, censure, or judge. They offer support and understanding. That’s worth any amount of expense. Otherwise, the victim can be left an emotional cripple.

  Marion: Do you think that was what could have happened to you?

  Tracy: No question about it. Suzy guided me, sometimes goaded me into searching and finding hidden strengths within myself. You see, I didn’t think I had any. (Pause) One thing everyone should remember: What you teach a child today can have life-long results. If you love, encourage, and treat a child with respect and dignity, that child will grow and flourish. But, if you ridicule a child for any reason, you strip him or her of self-worth that may never be recovered.

  Marion: Sounds ominous.

  Tracy: People don’t always realize how their casual, cutting remarks can scar a child for life. Children, by their very nature, look to adults for guidance. And it doesn’t make any difference if that child loves the adult or not; the child still believes the adult. So, if that adult tells the child that he or she is a slob, for instance, or a screw-up, or that no one wants to hear him, the child believes it. It happened to me. But with Suzy’s help, I think I’m overcoming most of my insecurities.

  Marion: Suzy sounds like someone I’d like to meet.

  Tracy: (Smiling) All you have to do is go to County General Hospital and look for someone who catches your eye.

  Marion: I don’t understand.

  Tracy: You will when you see her!

  Marion: I would like to ask something I realize will be very difficult to answer: Could you have pulled the trigger that evening in the park? If so, would it have been for revenge?

  Tracy: I’m thankful every day it didn’t come to that. But the answers to your questions take some thought. (Pause) Rape is a horrendous crime. It’s much more than sexual intercourse with an unwilling partner. It’s a violent, degrading act, sometimes causing damage for the rest of the victim’s life. But, as violent as this crime is, I wanted to kill this man, not for revenge, but because he threatened my son’s life.

  As far as killing someone, there are laws against it, of course, and that’s the way it should be. It’s the only way society can survive. Those who disregard the laws, however, damage their psyche in such a way that no amount of rehabilitation can undo the damage. Society must be protected from these few. But lawfully.

  Marion: You feel so strongly about the crime of rape, and you’ve talked about Suzy and the crisis center with such respect. Have you given any thought to joining them to help other victims?

  Tracy: Before all this happened, I wanted to attend tech school. But now, I plan to start classes at the university as soon as possible. I hope one day to be as good a counselor to someone in need as Suzy was to me. A tall order, as I don’t think anyone could ever compare with Suzy, but I’m going to try. Especially with one young woman who happens to like black.

  Marion: One last question: how do you feel about yourself now?

  Tracy: That’s a tough one. I was a victim. But with Suzy’s help, I discovered I’m a strong, capable human being, ready to put the past behind me and go on with my life. I’m so grateful my life was spared that I don’t intend on wasting it by looking back. Suzy believes we all make choices in life, and I choose not to be a victim any longer. I believe that our Creator has given each of us an ability to create positive forces in our life and with help, I became aware of the power within me. I intend to use that power to create a good, positive world for my son, myself, and anyone else who can benefit from my experiences.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Lush greenery surrounded the university complex, a ten-block oasis in the middle of the city. Tracy stepped off the bus and gazed at the complex, trying to take everything in all at once. Dogwood trees shaded a goldfish pond on this side of the complex, and beyond the three-story classrooms, brick buildings held the library, bookstore and cafeteria.

  The September air was cool and crisp, and the oaks wore their fiery autumn colors. With each step Tracy took, the gold and red leaves made a delightful crunch. She caught the scent of bacon from the cafeteria with the morning breeze.

  Adults of all ages and nationalities hurried along. Tracy felt a sense of joy as church bells rang from the steeple of the newly restored chapel on the east side. She would make all this a part of her life now, her life and Ritchie’s. />
  For the first time, she had hope for her future. She briefly closed her eyes and thought of her grandmother. I made it, Grandma. I’m finally here.

  As she walked, some of the old doubts pushed through. Would she be good enough to make it through all those years? Was she smart enough?

  Only one thought nagged at her. The article.

  The magazine editor had given her a projected date when it was to be published, and Tracy had been relieved that by that time, she would be established in class.

  But it hadn’t happened that way. The publishing date had been pushed up and the story had been released two days ago. The payment had been a blessing, and the article had been a fair representation of what had happened. But they had also blown up her picture, and that was something she hadn’t expected.

  Now, she might find herself a disturbance to the rest of the class, an object of curiosity. She hoped she wouldn’t be recognized and asked to drop out.

  She found her building. Plaques and framed letters of commendation lined the hallway. In her classroom, several young men and women sat talking and looked up when she entered. The instructor, an older woman in dark pleated pants and blazer, wrote on the blackboard.

  Even though the room was small, two sides were lined by long windows, giving it an open, airy feeling. One the west side, Tracy could see tree branches gently swaying in the breeze.

  Best of all, no one paid attention to her.

  Tracy opened her purse and took out a pencil and a pen, and then opened her notebook to the first page. With pride she wrote the name of the human services class, then dated it.

  More people filed in, found chairs and sat down. A brunette woman stared at Tracy, then found a seat four rows ahead.