Victim Rights

by Norah McClintock

  “Think you can collect?”

  “I’ll know in an hour. I should see him in the locker room. I’ll do my best.”

  Dooley had no doubt of it. He didn’t think Warren was capable of doing less.

  Someone knocked on his bedroom door—his uncle, dressed in a suit, his aftershave wafting its way to Dooley’s nose.

  “I’m going. I have to pick up Jeannie. You’re working tonight, aren’t you?”

  “I gotta be there in an hour.”

  “Well, just so you know,” his uncle said, “I’ll be calling the store to check on that. And I won’t be talking to that girl, what’s her name?”

  “Linelle.”

  His uncle nodded. “Linelle, who for some reason I’ll never understand seems to like to lie for you.” Linelle had covered for Dooley a few times, back when his uncle didn’t trust Dooley to be where he said he was going to be. “I’ll be talking to that manager of yours.”

  Aw, shit.

  “You’re going to call Kevin and ask if I’m at work?”

  “It seems I don’t have much of a choice if I want to know where you are.”

  “Come on! I’ve been straight with you, just like you wanted.”

  “Is that right? Does that include the night this Parker kid was beaten to death?”

  Okay, so, no, it didn’t.

  “Except for that,” Dooley said. “I’ve been straight with you except for that.”

  “Funny thing about trust,” his uncle said. “It can take a long time to establish it. A very long time.” His eyes drilled into Dooley. “But you can blow it all away in a second.”

  Which is what Dooley had done.

  “I’ll also be calling you here after you get off shift,” his uncle said. “You screw up, Ryan, and I’m going straight to Al Szabo.” Dooley’s probation officer. “I’m not putting up with any bullshit. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yeah,” Dooley said. “Whatever.”

  His uncle hung there a moment before turning and shutting the door behind him. Dooley heard his footsteps on the stairs, then across the hall. He heard the front door open and close. The house was silent.

  He felt like putting his fist through a wall. After all this time, his uncle was back to doubting him. But so what? Why did he even care? He was almost eighteen. Once his supervision order was up, he could move out. He could do whatever he wanted. He could call his own shots.

  But the thing was, he did care. He didn’t know why, but it mattered to him what his uncle thought. The past couple of months, when things had been going smoothly with both Beth and his uncle, had been the best months of Dooley’s life. When he was with Beth, it was like being in what he imagined heaven would be like, assuming it really existed. And when he was with his uncle, well, it was like being home. Or what he imagined being home felt like to the rest of the world. He walked into the house after school or after work, and he could count on a greeting instead of a “Get lost.” He could count on good food, too, and didn’t mind one little bit that it was his job to clean up afterwards. He didn’t mind any of the chores he had to do around the house, either. In fact, he was more than glad to do them in exchange for having a clean place to sleep, regular meals, and someone to ask him how his day had been and what he learned. Even better: someone who actually listened when he answered. Someone to care. And Jeannie? He smiled whenever he thought about her. Jeannie was the icing on the cake.

  Kevin was in Dooley’s face the minute he walked into the store, but instead of giving him a hard time about something he wanted him to do, he grinned and said, “Your uncle called me.”

  Dooley kept walking, headed for the back room to change into his red golf shirt with the name tag attached.

  “He said he wanted me to call him when you got here,” Kevin said, keeping pace with Dooley. “He also said he wanted me to call him if you didn’t show up or if you left early.”

  Dooley pushed open the door to the back room. Kevin came in behind him.

  “You know,” Kevin said, “your uncle’s a lot nicer than I thought.” Kevin used to shake at the thought of Dooley’s uncle, ever since the time his uncle had showed up in response to one of Kevin’s calls to customers who were overdue in returning items.

  Dooley pulled off his T-shirt and pulled on his golf shirt.

  “He said I should keep an eye on you until further notice,” Kevin said. “Sounds like he doesn’t trust you, Dooley.”

  Dooley went back out into the store and slipped behind the counter to relieve Rashid. Kevin stood and watched him for a while. He seemed disappointed that Dooley didn’t react. Well, good.

  Kevin watched him all night, which shouldn’t have bothered Dooley, but it did. When he told Kevin he was taking his meal break, Kevin said, “I guess I’d better call your uncle and let him know.” Dooley wanted to put a fist in Kevin’s face, but he held back. One thing he’d learned: sometimes that second or two of pleasure he got from acting on impulse, from doing the things that other people only dreamed of but were too chicken-shit to do, sometimes it just wasn’t worth the retribution that, in his case, invariably followed. He went to the Greek restaurant across from the video store and told himself he didn’t care what Kevin did.

  His phone rang as soon as he sat down. It was probably his uncle, calling to check in and give him a hard time about something else. He checked the display. It wasn’t his uncle’s number. It was one he didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?” he said.

  “Who is this?” the voice on the other end demanded. A girl’s voice.

  “You should know,” Dooley said. “You called me.”

  “No, you called me.” She sounded pissed off, whoever she was. “Anna said she talked to you, like, three times.”

  Anna? Who the hell was Anna?

  “I got your number off the phone memory,” the voice said. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  It started to click. She was one of the girls on Cassie’s list that he hadn’t talked to yet. She had to be Monique because no one had answered at Ellie Davis’s house.

  “Look, Monique ...”

  “Would you mind introducing yourself?” she said, her tone pure acid.

  “I’m a friend of Beth’s. I wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened.”

  There was utter silence on the other end.

  “Hello? Monique?”

  “I’m here.” Her voice was even frostier now. “Just so you know, I’m a friend of Parker’s. At least, I was. I’ve known him since we were kids. We went to the same kindergarten. We had play dates together.”

  Which meant she probably wasn’t going to be all that helpful. At least, not over the phone. Maybe if he could see her in person, and if she could see him.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Beth,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “About what happened?”

  “You’re that boyfriend of hers, aren’t you?” Monique said.

  “The criminal.”

  “Yes.” And no.

  “Why should I talk to you?”

  Good question.

  “Because, like you said, you were friends with Parker. Look, Monique, I know you know what happened on that trip. I just need to talk to someone who was there. Someone who can help me sort this out. Beth and I ...” He let his voice trail off and sighed heavily. “Maybe we could meet tomorrow? Please? I won’t take a lot of your time. I just ... I need to talk, that’s all.”

  Silence. Then: “There’s a Starbucks on the corner two blocks south of my school. Meet me there tomorrow at noon.”

  “How will I recognize you?”

  “I’ll recognize you,” she said.

  The line went dead.

  TWELVE

  Dooley felt as unsettled on Sunday morning as he had the night before. He had talked to a few people and, so far, all he had gained was greater insight into why Randall had arrested Beth after listening to her confession. He had lain awake thinking about everything he knew, which, when you came right
down to it, wasn’t much.

  He rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and headed downstairs to make coffee. Halfway down, the aroma hit him, and he knew he was too late. Sure enough, there was his uncle in the kitchen, pouring skim milk into a cup, which was how Dooley knew that Jeannie was in the house.

  “You must have been out late,” he said to his uncle. “Either that or you tiptoed up the stairs, because I didn’t hear you.”

  His uncle poured another mug of coffee, this one black, for himself. “What do you have planned for the day?” he said.

  “I have to meet someone at noon. Other than that, not much. Why?”

  “Jeannie’s making supper tonight. She’s making pie for dessert. She was hoping you’d be here.”

  Dooley smiled. Jeannie made the best pie he had ever tasted.

  “You can tell her I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” he said. Especially since Jeannie always served her pie warm from the oven, with a good-sized scoop of expensive ice cream on top.

  “All right then.” His uncle carried both mugs out of the kitchen. Dooley heard him pad up the stairs.

  Dooley got himself some cereal and coffee. It was only eight-thirty by the time he finished both. Now what? He was going to go crazy sitting around with nothing to do. He prowled through the house for a few minutes, then went out the back door to the garage. His uncle was always grousing about what a mess it was. He kept saying that one of these days he was going to drag Dooley out there and the two of them were going to clean the place out. Dooley looked over the interior. No wonder his uncle hardly ever parked in here. There was junk everywhere. Dooley thought for a moment about how to proceed and then waded in.

  Three hours later, he dashed into the kitchen to wash his hands.

  “I thought you were out,” his uncle said.

  “I was. In the garage. I gotta go. Tell Jeannie—” But there she was in the door to the kitchen, still in the long silky robe that she kept in his uncle’s bedroom. “I’ll be back in time for supper, Jeannie,” he said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  She beamed at him. “Don’t fill up on junk food. I’m making a roast. With gravy.”

  Dooley loved Jeannie’s gravy. He would have hugged her, except that he didn’t know what kind of reaction that would get.

  The Starbucks near Beth’s school was doing a brisk Sunday afternoon business. Dooley glanced around. There were a couple of small groups of girls around Beth’s age. A few of them looked at him, but none of them waved him over. He lined up at the counter to order a coffee. His cell phone rang.

  “I’m around the corner.”

  It was Monique.

  “I’m inside,” he said.

  “I know. I saw you go in. But there are friends of mine in there, and I don’t want them to see me talking to you.”

  Oh.

  “I’ll be right out.”

  He scooted out of line just as the barista behind the counter asked him what he wanted. A slim brunette in gigantic sunglasses, tight jeans, and a cropped jacket that showed off her skinny butt was pacing up and down out of sight of Starbucks. When she saw him, she waved him over and then turned and walked briskly up the street, forcing him to jog to catch her. That bugged him, but what choice did he have?

  “I don’t even know why I agreed to meet you,” she said.

  They were headed in the direction of her school. She turned and glanced at him, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking, not with her eyes hidden behind those massive dark glasses.

  “I was hoping you could tell me what happened on that trip,” Dooley said.

  They reached the school and Monique turned up the path that ran along one side of the ivy-covered building. There was a playing field in back, with bleachers on one side of it. She led the way. They sat down side by side.

  “I know you talked to Rachel,” she said. He should have expected that. Girls liked to talk. They liked to fill each other in on all the details of their lives. “I can’t tell you anything that she hasn’t already told you.”

  “Are—were you and Beth friends?”

  “Not really.”

  “Were you at the party at Parker’s country house?”

  “Of course. I told you. I’ve known Parker all my life.”

  “Did you see what happened there?”

  “I saw Beth dancing with him. If you ask me, she was having a good time.” He had the feeling she was peering into his eyes and trying to assess the damage she was doing. But those damn sunglasses ... “And I saw them leave the party together. They were both smiling, you know what I mean? Someone said they were holding hands.”

  “Someone said? You didn’t see that yourself?”

  “I didn’t see a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.” Her tone was snotty, like, who did he think he was, questioning her? “She didn’t have to go into the house with him if she didn’t want to. It’s not like he threw her over his shoulder and carried her in, kicking and screaming. They left the party together, and I didn’t see either of them again until the next morning when Parker came down for coffee.”

  “What about Beth? Was she with him?”

  “No. I heard she was hogging one of the bathrooms. I didn’t see her until we got on the bus. She was sitting way at the back, pouting and staring at Parker. I remember thinking she was looking at him like she wanted to kill him. But when I thought it, it was just an expression. Who knew she was really going to do it?”

  “What about the party at Parker’s house the weekend after you all got back? Were you there, too?”

  She looked at him for a long time before she said, “You walked right past me on your way to talk to Parker.”

  Oh. He bet she was one of the kids who had talked to Randall.

  “Did you see Beth there?”

  “Look, I don’t know what you want from me—”

  “I’m just trying to figure out what happened. Was she there or wasn’t she?”

  It rattled him a little when she said, “I told the cops I wasn’t sure. I thought it was her—it sure could have been her—but I didn’t get a good look. It was dark and they were far away.”

  “They?”

  “She and Parker.”

  Shit.

  “When was that? When did you see them?”

  “What am I? A timekeeper?” He’d never met anyone so prickly, and he was afraid she was going to call it quits. “I can only tell you what I told the cops. I went inside a little after ten, you know, to use the facilities. I passed Parker on the way. He was at the food table, grabbing a bottle of champagne and some glasses.” Champagne. Of course. “When I came out again, he was way back at the end of the yard, and there was a girl with him. She was shorter than him.” So was Beth. “She was slender.” So was Beth. “And she had long, dark hair.” Just like Beth’s. “But that’s all I could see for sure. There’s some bushes back there, just before where it drops off into the ravine. It’s nice and quiet back there. No one can see you. I’ve heard girls say they went back there with Parker.” He could picture it. “I saw them back near those bushes. I didn’t see Parker again before I left.” Another strike against Beth.

  “You told the cops you weren’t sure it was Beth,” he said slowly. “But if you had to guess, what do you think? You think it was her?”

  She looked across the tidy, litter-free playing field and shrugged.

  Dooley got up and stood in front of her. He reached out and removed the enormous sunglasses from her face. She wasn’t bad looking, but she was gaunt and the only color on her face was two smudges of unnatural pink on her cheeks and black liner around her eyes.

  “Monique, do you think the girl you saw was Beth?”

  She met his gaze.

  “Like I already said, I told the cops I couldn’t swear to it. But it could have been her. It definitely could have been.”

  “Did you see Beth at the party before then? I mean, really see her, so that you could swear to it?”
r />   She was still staring into his eyes.

  “No.”

  “Did anyone else mention seeing Beth there?”

  “Not that I heard of.”

  “If she had been there, who would have seen her arrive? As far as I could see, there was only one way in.”

  Monique cocked her head to one side. Her lips curled up into a tight smile.

  “I guess Deecee would have seen. She’s a year younger than Parker, but she’s the responsible one. She was watching everyone who came into the yard. She was afraid word had got out that there was going to be a party, and she didn’t want a bunch of troublemakers showing up and trashing the place. Yeah, Deecee probably would have seen. She was keeping an eye on everyone who went in or out.”

  And, for sure, the cops had talked to her. In fact, they’d probably talked to her first thing. But who had the cops dragged in for questioning? Dooley—not Beth. Deecee must have told them that Dooley was at the party. But she must not have mentioned Beth, which had to mean that she hadn’t seen her. Still, it would be good to talk to her.

  “Thanks,” he said. He held out her sunglasses. She took them and slipped them back on.

  “You still love her, don’t you?” she said.

  He didn’t answer. There were some things that were no one’s business but his own.

  “You seem like an okay guy,” she said. “But just so you don’t get the wrong idea, I’m glad the cops arrested her. I only wish she was eighteen instead of seventeen. If she was eighteen, she’d be locked up for life. At seventeen, the most she’ll get is ten years, and a third of that will be served in the community, on probation. Her name will never get mentioned, her record will stay sealed. No one will ever know. Ten years and then she can get on with her life. But Parker? He’s gone and he’s staying gone.”

  Dooley was thankful she had her sunglasses back on. He didn’t want to see the eyes that matched the words she had just spoken because, if he did, he might do something that he would regret.

  He walked back down to the main street. What now?