Winning Odds Trilogy

by MaryAnn Myers

  Randy smiled.

  “So why are you here?” she asked, once off the elevator, unlocking the apartment door, and standing back for him to enter.

  “I came over to ransack the place for a clue as to where Dawn might be.”

  “She’s at the cabin in Cook Forest, dear.”

  Randy smiled. “Any chance of you being more specific than that?”

  Maeve shook her head, which came as no surprise.

  Randy put her food down on the table, motioned into the kitchen, and went in and got himself a beer. “What can I get you?” he asked, and felt a little odd. After all, she was the one staying here.

  Aunt Maeve looked up. “Oh, beer’s fine.”

  He got her a glass, and walked back into the living room where she was positioning all her food on the coffee table in some sort of order. He sat down in the chair across from her, and waited a moment. “Would it be treason on your part to allow me to look for an address book?”

  Maeve smiled sadly. “I would only have to call her and warn her that you’re coming.”

  Randy figured as much, deciding she wouldn’t be there then, and glanced around the apartment as Maeve sampled the different containers.

  “It’s not that this stuff tastes so bad, it’s just that it looks so dreadful.” She gazed thoughtfully at him. “Aren’t you hungry, dear?”

  Randy shook his head, and stared at the terrace, remembering the night he and Dawn slept there through a lightning storm, and how she’d held onto him. “I have to find her, Maeve,” he said. “You have to understand. I love her. And at times I could swear she loved me.”

  “She does love you, Randy.” Maeve said, putting her fork down and sitting back. “That’s why all this is resurfacing.”

  “What? What’s resurfacing?” Randy stood up, his hands held out in frustration. “Her horse broke down. I’m sorry. But what does that have to do with us?” He turned his back to her, the anger mounting.

  “Randy, it’s not just that. It started long before this. You’re a threat to her,” Maeve said quietly.

  Randy swung around. “What? I would never hurt her. What are you talking about? You’re as mysterious as she is.”

  Maeve hesitated, sympathizing with him. “I wish I could tell you, Randy, but I can’t betray her. I would go to my grave never forgiving myself if I caused her one moment of pain. She has been hurt enough.”

  Randy swallowed hard. “Maeve, I promise you, I will never hurt her. I want to help her. Tell me where she is. Please.”

  Maeve lowered her eyes to her lap and stared, agonizing over what to do, what to say, and drew a deep breath in resignation. She folded her hands together. “Dawnetta was raped.”

  Randy stared. “What? When?”

  “Sit down, dear.”

  Randy shook his head, asking again. “When?”

  “When she was seventeen.”

  “Oh my God...” Randy said, his thoughts quickly going to Ginney and Dawn’s compassion, her insistence she prosecute.

  “Please. There’s more,” Maeve said with regret.

  Randy looked at her and sat down. “Don’t tell me she got pregnant.” He recalled her article on abortion, his hands trembling as he gripped the arms of the chair.

  “No, dear. It was. She was...she was raped by two men.” Tears filled Maeve’s eyes, and she couldn’t continue for several minutes.

  “Where?” Randy asked, after giving her some time and unable to stand it anymore.

  “In the garage, at their summer home.”

  “What? With servants everywhere?”

  Maeve’s voice quivered. “It was somebody the family knew. An employee, and... Charles had no way of knowing,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Till the day he died, he blamed himself.”

  Randy shook his head, trying to take all this in. “And?”

  “And they...” Maeve wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself. “You see, they... This is so hard to talk about. They hurt her then,” she said, and had to give herself another moment before going on. “She had to have surgery.”

  Randy looked at her.

  “They hurt her on purpose.”

  Randy felt the blood drain from his face.

  “It was... Oh God,” Maeve said, her voice a sob. “An instrument or something.” She cradled her face in her hands, prayed for the strength to continue, to make Randy understand, even when he shook his head and didn’t want to hear anymore. “They threatened her if she told. But they hurt her so badly, they knew she’d have to tell. She could hardly stand, Randy. She could hardly stand. And then they dressed her. They dressed her and left her at the door.”

  Randy stood up, strangling on his own anger, and walked to the terrace. Put his back to her for a long, long time, thinking, agonizing, remembering fragments of his and Dawn’s conversations. “She can’t have children, can she?”

  Maeve shook her head. “The doctors don’t know. She suffered cervical damage.” She wiped her eyes, raised her chin, and cleared her throat. “Something prompted her last month to see her doctor, to ask if they could tell now that she was older. But they still don’t know. The only way she will ever find out is if and when she becomes pregnant.”

  Randy nodded, remembering Dawn’s reaction when they talked about children. “Did they get the men who did this?”

  Maeve stared at the floor.

  “Maeve?”

  She looked up at him. “One of them was found murdered a week later.”

  “How?”

  “He was shot.”

  “And the other one?”

  Maeve paused. “He turned himself in. He’s serving a life sentence.”

  Randy nodded and walked back and sat down. “Do you know who murdered the man?”

  Maeve looked at him.

  “Was it Dawn’s father? Is that why the other man turned himself in? Was he next?”

  Maeve swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

  Randy studied her eyes. “Does Dawn know?”

  Maeve hesitated, then decided not to answer.

  “Wasn’t there an investigation?”

  Maeve held up her hands in a protective gesture. “Charles was a proud man; he wanted no publicity. There was no connection to Dawnetta.”

  “I don’t understand. When they found this man murdered, didn’t they connect it to the rape?”

  Maeve shook her head. “Randy, you have to understand, the rape was never reported. Charles wouldn’t have it. She was too young. An innocent child. No.” She bit her bottom lip, pressed her fist against it, and willed herself not to cry. “Don’t you see? It was because of who he was that this happened.”

  Randy’s eyes hardened.

  “The media would have destroyed what was left of her. Charles couldn’t allow that. He handled it the way he thought best.”

  Randy shook his head, trying to make sense of all this. “But she was in the hospital. What charge was brought against the other man?”

  “I don’t know. I only know the sentence. Life.”

  Randy lowered his eyes, stared, and sat back. “How did her parents die? She told me it was a plane crash.”

  “It was,” Maeve said. “Charles had his own plane and flew it himself.” She paused to reach for a tissue. “Their death has hurt her so much. She blames herself.”

  “Why?”

  “She and Charles had an argument that morning. Dawnetta was to fly with them. It was a horrible argument. Charles was so upset.” She looked away. “The cause of the crash couldn’t be determined. It could have been pilot error or turbulence.” She raised her shoulders. “We’ll never know.”

  “Does Dawn think the argument caused the crash?”

  “Yes. She’s convinced it did.”

  Randy sat there a moment. “Is there more?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve told you all I know. If there is, it’s buried deep inside Dawnetta, and with her parents.”

  Randy thanked her for telling him, and apologized for the pain it
put her through, having to relive the details for his sake, but had one more question. “Maeve, please tell me where she is?”

  “I can’t, dear. If she wants to see you, she’ll contact you. My prayers are with you...I hope to God I’ve done the right thing by telling you this. But the rest is up to her.”

  Randy nodded, and stood up and walked to the door. “Is she okay?”

  “I think she will be. What she’s struggling with is seeing herself through your eyes. And she hasn’t been able to do that just yet.”

  Randy lay awake for hours that night. For the first time since he’d met Dawn, everything made sense. Her rape, the murder, blaming herself for her parent’s death, almost losing Ben, first because of the stroke and then the argument, Ginney’s rape and the trial, and then losing the filly. No wonder she chose to run.

  “No wonder,” he said out loud to himself. “And you pushed her.” Always nagging at her, asking her questions, wanting to know who she was and where she’d been. Tell me everything. Everything. When all she wanted to do was forget.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Several days passed from the time Randy had talked to Aunt Maeve, long and hectic days between farm calls, surgery, the continued construction on the hospital, and his visits to Ben and out to the farm.

  “You’re going to kill yourself,” Raffin told him, who was putting in some pretty long hours himself.

  “So bury me,” Randy said. “Right over there between those two boards. Standing up.”

  Raffin laughed. He’d pointed to the final section in need of drywall. “Let’s do it.” The two were eager to put this phase behind them, and as a result, Randy arrived later than usual that evening to see Ben.

  “Where have you been?” Ben glanced impatiently at his watch. “Dawn was here.”

  “What?” Randy’s mouth dropped. “When?”

  “An hour ago you would have run into her.”

  Randy stared, too tired to even sit down. “Wait. You mean she’s back in town?”

  “No, just for today.”

  “Maybe she’s still at her apartment,” Randy said, already headed for the door.

  “No, not hardly.” Ben called him back. “She said she was going straight to the cabin, because she wanted to get there before dark.”

  Randy looked at him. “Did she say where it’s at?”

  “Yes, in Cook Forest.”

  “Where in Cook Forest?”

  “I don’t know. I asked, but she wouldn’t say.”

  Randy sighed, walked back in, and sat down. She wouldn’t say. “Did she say anything?”

  “She asked how you were.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her you were fine.”

  Randy shook his head. “That’s a lie, Ben. I’m not fine.”

  Ben smiled sadly as Randy stood up and walked over to the window. “Why won’t she contact me, Ben? Am I kidding myself thinking she will?”

  “Well, she did ask about you.”

  “Big fucking deal,” Randy said, arms stretched to the ceiling. “She asked about me.”

  Ben couldn’t think of an appropriate response and remained quiet as Randy turned to leave. “I’m going to go find her. I’m tired of her wishes. Dawn this and Dawn that. What about me?”

  Ben shrugged.

  “And don’t try talking me out of it. Enough is enough.”

  “I wasn’t going to say a word,” Ben said, smiling. “I don’t want you decking me like you did Dawn’s old boyfriend.”

  Randy looked at him from the door. “How’d you find out about that?”

  “Dawn told me.”

  “Dawwnnn told you?” Randy said, dragging out her name. “How in the hell did she find out?”

  “Oh, I guess a Jeremy somebody told her when she went swimming today. I hear you laid him right out.”

  “Listen, he had it coming. But wait a second. She went swimming? She went swimming?”

  Ben nodded, smiling throughout.

  “That does it. I’m going to find her. I don’t care where she is.” He waved over his shoulder, drove home, showered and dressed, called Raffin, and left, wasting no time.

  He stopped for a map inside the Pennsylvania line, took Route 80 to Clarion, through town, continued north on a winding two-lane highway, turned right at the sign, which he almost missed, and drove directly into Cook Forest.

  “Now what?” He pulled into the first restaurant he came to, which turned out to be more of a bar, that specialized in beer-batter-dipped and deep-fried everything and anything.

  “The fried veggies,” Randy said, handing the menu back to the waitress. “And a beer, draft.” When the woman walked away, he stretched his legs under the table, heard a roar like a freight train, and watched a loaded logging truck barrel down the hill on the highway not a car length away. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eight-fifteen. “Excuse me,” he said, to the waitress as she passed by on her way to the next table. “Do you know a Dawn Fioritto?”

  “Nope. Sorry, never heard of her.”

  “Thanks.” Randy ate, asked where the next closest restaurant or bar was, which drew a funny look from the waitress, and drove another mile and a half and stopped again. Same question. “Do you know a Dawn Fioritto?”

  “No,” the bartender said. And the next, and the next, and the next. He was on a wild goose chase, a little old lady serving him beer in a frosted mug said as she wiped the counter again and again. “You’d have more luck finding a needle in a haystack.”

  Randy smiled a weary smile.

  “Course if it’s a private cabin...”

  Randy perked up.

  “You might try asking at the River Inn. They’re back up the road a piece where things are spread out a little more. Maybe they’ll know her.”

  Randy followed her directions, made a sharp right just over the bridge, and drove along the river for at least four miles.

  “Dawn Fioritto? No, can’t say that I do,” a server in the lounge said.

  Randy’s heart dropped. This was his last hope, and he was just about to describe her, the way he had with all the others, she’s real tall and pretty, red hair down to here, when the man added, “Not personally at least.”

  Randy looked at him.

  “The Fioritto family have a cabin nearby here though.”

  “How nearby?”

  “Well, are you familiar with the area?”

  “Very,” Randy said.

  And familiar he was, even in the dark. He drove back to Route 36, turned right, up the hill to the left, left again at the stop sign, another left, and onto a private road. “There’s only three or four cabins there, I’m not sure which one. You’ll have to check the mailboxes.”

  It was the third. He turned into the drive, drove at least six hundred yards before there was any clearing in the woods, and thought of the Ponderosa at first sight of this log cabin; rambling, two-story, and all lit up. If there was any doubt he was in the right place, it vanished at the sight of a new jeep with Ohio plates, parked to the side. When he pulled in next to it and turned off his truck, only then did it occur to him that he might frighten Dawn showing up this late, which was the last thing he wanted to do, and decided he probably should’ve waited until the morning. But he was here now, and after coming this far...

  He got out and knocked on the front door, glanced over his shoulder as all the flood lights came on, and waited. Dawn looked out the side window, saw his truck first, and looking out the next window, him, and walked over to turn off the security system. When she finally opened the door, for a brief moment, the two of them just looked at one another. Dawn stepped back then, and he came in and closed the door behind him.

  Dawn walked to the fireplace, where she drew a deep breath and turned, and again, just looked at him for a moment. “How did you know where I was?”

  “I didn’t,” Randy said, watching her. “I knew it was in this area, so I stopped at all the bars till I found someone who knew wher
e you might be.”

  Dawn nodded, more to herself than him, and sat down on the hearth, the crackling fire the only sound in the massive room.

  “Why didn’t you stop to see me today?” Randy asked, taking a step forward.

  “I don’t know.” She stared down at her hands, turning the ring on her finger.

  “I would’ve liked to have known if you were all right.”

  Dawn glanced at him as he sat down next to her. “I’m not all right, Randy,” she said, as if he couldn’t see that. She was thinner, paler, trembling. “If only I could fall asleep and wake up new. You know, to be able to forget everything and start over.”

  Randy smoothed her hair, tucked it behind her ear, and when she looked at him, swallowed hard. “I saw Maeve,” he said. “Dawn, she told me. She told me everything.”

  Dawn searched his eyes, and shook her head. “Randy, what am I going to do?” Tears welled up and spilled onto her cheeks. “What am I going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Randy said, pulling her close. “I just know whatever it is, we’re going to do it together. You and me.” He turned her face to his. “Understand? Together.”

  October mornings in Cook Forest are always cool with a heavy fog blanketing the river. The one they woke to was no different. Randy gazed out from the back porch of the cabin, taking in the rainbow of autumn colors interspersed with the lush pines. “This is beautiful,” he said, his arms around Dawn as she stood in front of him. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  “I was here the day my parents died,” Dawn said softly, leaning against him for warmth.

  “Come on,” Randy said, tugging her toward the door. They’d put it off long enough. It was time to talk.

  Dawn sat down by the fireplace and watched him as he added more wood to the fire, stoking it before he walked over and sat down across from her.

  “Has this cabin been in the family long?” he asked, not knowing where to begin, or quite how.

  “Yes, as long as I can remember.”

  “Dawn, I’m sorry, but we have to talk about it,” he said, seeing the all-too-familiar defenses surfacing. “I know I pushed you here with all my questions, but the only way we can deal with this, is to face it, and put it all behind us.”