Pieces For You

by Rulon, Genna

  Ev arrived a half-hour later; she had no idea what transpired while she was at the accountant’s office. After a brief rundown from Griffin, accompanied by a look cautioning her to keep it cool, Ev sat in the chair next to us and took my hand in hers without saying a word. I suspected any words that might have left her mouth would be profane and violent.

  It was nearly an hour later when Hunter returned to tell us beyond the obvious. The police had found tracks in the area I indicated, but it was hardly conclusive proof in a public parking lot. When I asked directly, Hunter said he suspected the liquid was blood, most likely animal, purchased at a butcher. He may have been bluffing, but I clung to the explanation as gospel; any other possibility was too horrifying. The computer forensic team would examine the authenticity of the photo. Hunter stressed the possibility that it was not me and that it could have been altered to make it appear to be me, but I knew. In my bones, I knew it was me…that night. I could see the fresh bite mark on my breast, a scar I still carried that would never go away.

  After a few questions to clarify the timeline, Hunter sent me home…or more accurately, he sent me to Griffin’s house. I could tell Ev wanted us to stay at their apartment so she could be assured of my safety, but there was no way I was subjecting myself to Hunter’s pull-out couch-of-pain.

  Once at Griffin’s, he set me on the couch before activating the alarm and checking every door, window, and closet. Satisfied the house was safe, he carried me upstairs, placed me in a steaming hot bath, and then tucked me into bed. We spoke very little, other than words of love. I fell asleep to the sound of his steady breathing beneath my ear.

  "Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear." -Mark Twain

  The next week was a social experiment in the effects of constant companionship on a group of jittery, tense individuals. Griffin and Hunter had ascended to their full Alpha-male glory, their overprotection verging on suffocation. Ev was equally as overbearing in her own way. It was agreed that I would stay at Griffin’s house for security reasons, and Ev and Hunter showed up with overnight bags the first night. Between the three of them, the only moments I had to myself were when I went to the bathroom. Even then I didn’t get to shower alone, for crying out loud…although that wasn’t so bad, seeing as Griffin made sure I cried out loud each time he joined me.

  The oppressive concern descended into bickering as to how to best protect me, which I largely stayed out of. Despite the diverging opinions, they managed to agree on several issues, which, despite my protests, included barring me from working at Higher Yearning altogether. I was only allowed to work my day shifts at The Stop because Griffin was with me the entire time, except when I was working in the kitchen where Tiny, the head bouncer, had the sudden, mysterious need to pass his days. When I questioned Griffin, he only shrugged with unconvincing innocence.

  As scared as I was, their over-the-top concern kept me calm in a strange way. With them worrying obsessively every second of the day, I was forced to be the voice of reason and calm. Who had time to be terrified when I was busy reining in guard dogs 1, 2, and 3?

  Hunter hauled the Varbeck family into FBI headquarters and questioned them for hours without success. They maintained ignorance of any threats against me. Neither the police nor FBI had been able to find a significant financial connection between the Varbecks’ accounts and the witnesses who dropped out. Hunter had petitioned for a warrant to examine the disbursements from their legal firm’s escrow accounts, but the warrant was denied due to insufficient cause.

  My deposition was scheduled to take place in three days—we had officially reached DEFCON 1. Hunter wore his sidearm at all times, even in the house, and police cruisers were stationed outside Griffin’s house around the clock at the request of the assistant DA.

  We were sharing a breakfast of blueberry pancakes when Hunter’s phone rang. He excused himself to the office as we continued. When he returned, his face was the definition of shock and relief. He opened his mouth to speak then snapped it shut, shaking his head.

  “Well?” Ev and I said in unison.

  Ev continued, “You’re starting to freak me out…say something.”

  “That was Det. Norse. He called to tell me…shit, I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  “Spit it out!” Ev, Griffin, and I all snapped at him.

  “Heath is dead.”

  “What?” I asked, while Ev questioned, “How?”, and Griff muttered, “Thank God.”

  “He was beaten to death at Riverhead. They aren’t exactly sure how it happened. They were on the way back from dinner and a fight broke out between two gang members. The guards broke it up and when they regained control, Heath was on the ground—dead. The warden believes he was the intended target all along and the fight was a diversion. Heath had lodged several complaints about his treatment by the other inmates and made some vile accusations, but there was no concrete proof that anything non-consensual occurred. He was most likely killed for opening his mouth.”

  “Holy fuck,” I whispered. “I…wow.”

  We all sat quietly, lost in our thoughts.

  “Does it make me a bad person if all I feel is relief?”

  “No,” all three practically shouted.

  Griffin left his seat and squatted before me.

  “Love, you’re the one he hurt, the one he threatened to hurt again—of course you are feeling relieved. You have nothing to feel guilty about.” He wrapped his arms around me, covering my face in consoling kisses. “You’re safe now…you are safe.”

  We spent the rest of the day in a strange fog. It was surreal to have the weight of fear lifted. I hadn’t realized how heavy the burden was, how much it influenced my every thought and decision, until I was freed of the anvil sitting atop me. I felt like I could fly.

  Griffin opened a bottle of champagne and, despite the early hour, we toasted the end of Heath’s reign of terror. Huntleigh left shortly thereafter with promises to come for dinner the following night. I asked Griff if we could finally return to my house and he immediately packed an overnight bag and took me home. We shut out the world, turning off our phones and unplugging the house phone, and spent the night celebrating in a much more intimate way.

  The next morning I awoke, muscles aching in the sweetest of ways, and smiled a smile I hadn’t felt in nine months. Raising my head from my human pillow, I saw that Griffin was still fast asleep. No surprise there, the man had exhausted himself last night; I even thought he managed to add a few new pages to the Kama Sutra. I was fairly certain a few of his moves defied gravity—what a lucky, lucky girl.

  Deciding he needed to sleep, I slipped from the bed and headed down to the kitchen to prep breakfast—something revitalizing would be needed because I planned to continue our self-imposed sequestering for the rest of the day.

  The doorbell rang and I hustled to answer it before they rang again and woke Griffin. I swung the door open to a sea of flashes, my name ringing out from several directions above the sound of the shutter clicks.

  “Miss Whitney, do you have any comment on the death of Heath Varbeck?”

  I slammed the door and slid to the floor in shock.

  “What the—” I heard Griffin ask as his footsteps approached.

  He glanced out the window as he neared me.

  “Shit.”

  He scooped me off the floor and carried me to the family room located in the back of the house, as far from the reporters as possible.

  “How did they find out about me? The DA promised my name would be kept confidential until the trial. With Heath dead, there is no trial; no reason to have my name plastered across newspapers.”

  “I don’t know, baby. We’ll find out and I’ll figure out a way to stop this.”

  “How did they even get in here? They had to clear the guard booth, right?”

  “Another question I intend to have answered very soon,” he said, anger straining his words.

  He wrapped a blanket around me before
walking to the kitchen and returning with our cell phones. The minute he powered mine on, bells and vibrations sounded incessantly to announce a barrage of messages.

  “Lo-baby, I’m going to call Hunter and make us some coffee. Don’t read or listen to those messages right now…wait until the shock wears off, okay?”

  I nodded my agreement, but lifted my phone to call Everleigh—it went straight to voicemail.

  Griffin returned a few minutes later with a mug in each hand. After he settled on the couch, he drew my legs across his lap and began to massage my foot. Uh-oh, I wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to say.

  “Ev’s phone has been going nuts since 6 a.m., Hunter’s too. Someone, most likely from the DA’s office, sold the transcripts of the depositions to the media along with the news of Heath’s death. The DA is going to find who did it and they will be prosecuted, but there is no way to undo the damage. Ev and Hunter’s depositions both referred to you by name, and when reporters realized who your family was, they jumped on it.”

  Of course they would—old money, a recognizable name in elite circles…it may not be as well-known as the Hiltons or Rockefellers, but there was enough recognition to entice the vultures. I sighed. This was precisely what my parents had feared. I knew the media would be interested during the trial, but I didn’t think their attention would be this intense. No doubt Heath’s murder while in prison had elevated the salaciousness of the sound bites.

  “Hunter is going to have some patrol cars sent over to help us get out of here. We’ll head to my house and hide out there. It probably won’t hold them off for very long, but it will buy us a little time to figure out how to handle them.”

  “I have a better idea. Can you take a few days off from The Stop? We won’t go too far in case of an emergency. I know it’s last minute and you haven’t had time to make arr—”

  He kissed my lips, smothering my words.

  “That’s better. Yes, whatever you are thinking—yes. You come first, Lo, always.”

  I exhaled deeply as warmth and love for this man flooded my every cell.

  “Thank you. I was thinking we could head out east to the vineyards for a few days. Let the craziness die down a bit. I heard the Jedediah Hawkins Inn is fantastic.”

  Griffin chuckled, “I don’t suppose the fact that the Jedediah Hawkins restaurant is supposed to be fantastic had any effect on your choice.”

  “Maybe,” I said coyly.

  “I’ll call now and book a room and reservations for dinner. Go pack your bag and we’ll leave in an hour.”

  I kissed him, pulling him against me fully to show my appreciation, before releasing him and dashing to my room.

  We left an hour later under police escort. The further east we drove, the more our tension melted away. We both needed this break from the tragedies and worries of the last nine months. We needed time alone to enjoy one another without any threats or work issues looming. We needed time to be Griffin and Sam.

  I called Thia during the drive to cancel my appointment for the following day. I briefly explained about Heath’s death and the subsequent media frenzy before confessing that Griffin and I were going to hide out for a few days. She granted her therapeutic blessing, after making me promise I would gorge myself on food during the mini-vacation. She also made me promise I would call her if I needed to talk, day or night.

  Three days later we returned home rejuvenated; I had never had so much fun in my life. We enjoyed every moment together with the joy of children—walks along the beach, wine tasting, exploring small island towns…it was a dream. We even found a deserted playground to horse around on. We competed on the swings to see who could fly the highest (I totally won if you didn’t consider the length of Griffin’s legs), after which we attempted to seesaw, an epic failure given our weight and height difference. My favorite part was watching Griffin get stuck in the covered twisty slide when he tried to follow me down. I nearly choked to death I was laughing so hard.

  We spent our nights tangled in each other and physically expressing the depths of our growing love. It was magic.

  When we arrived at my house, I was relieved to find it was media-free. Hunter had texted us that the guard on duty the morning of our departure had been fired and the complex promised nothing of the sort would happen again. The DA’s office had also found the leak and immediately terminated them with possible charges pending. I was still receiving countless voicemails from news outlets requesting comments or interviews, but I deleted them all without listening for more than a few seconds. All things considered, life was shockingly fantastic. I was so happy I barely knew what to do with myself.

  I wasn’t scheduled to work until Monday, so I stayed home the following day to catch up on laundry while Griffin headed to The Stop. The home phone rang and I reflexively answered without thinking.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Miss Whitney, this is Liz from 60 Minutes—please don’t hang up.”

  I was about to do exactly that, but something in her voice stopped me.

  “Oh, you didn’t hang up,” she said, surprised.

  “You have two minutes.”

  “Fair enough. We’ve covered the issue of colleges turning a blind eye to rapes reported by students, as well as the manipulation of crime statistics in the past. We were planning to tackle the topic again, seeing as little has changed, and using the tragedy at Hensley as a cautionary tale. The events were so extreme and the university so negligent, we believe it may inspire viewers to demand changes in state and federal laws governing collegiate reporting. We planned to air when the trial began for maximum exposure, but given his death, we are going to air next week. We would like to include an interview with you in the feature.”

  I noticed and appreciated her discretion in not speaking Heath’s name to me. I was also impressed by her passionate explanation of the show’s mission for this segment.

  “I applaud your goals, but I’m not sure I’m the right person for your interview. I have no direct knowledge of how the university handled previous complaints about Heath.”

  “You’re exactly the right person,” she protested vehemently. “Sorry, I’m passionate about this episode; it’s sort of my life mission.”

  I understood immediately. Someone she loved, if not herself, had been raped during college and justice had not been served.

  “Why me?”

  “You are the heart of the story. It’s just another news bite about blah, blah doing something wrong, blah, blah. That is what viewers hear unless we give them something to connect to emotionally—a person with whom to empathize. To succeed, the viewers need to ask themselves—what if that were my child? That is the only way that we can engage them to action.”

  “That makes sense, but why me?”

  “Because your story is one of survival and hope. You’re likable and viewers will sympathize with you. Because you are the last victim, and…because you are the only one strong enough to do it. You were the only witness for the DA who was also a victim. I know Miss Carsen had a close call, but her story won’t have the same impact. It has to be you. I’m asking you to be the voice for all the other victims. Not just the ones at Hensley, but all girls who have experienced what you have and never had the opportunity to seek justice or tell their story. You can speak for them, and you can inspire them. You are proof that they can survive, overcome, even thrive after what’s been done to them. You are the phoenix they need to give them hope.”

  My eyes welled at the thought of all the others who had suffered in the past and those who would in the future. I thought of the other girls at The Phoenix Centre, as broken as I was, but many already hopeless.

  “What would I have to do?” I asked. I couldn’t believe I was actually considering this.

  “You just need to answer some questions…tell your story. We will email you all the questions in advance, so there will be no surprises. We will even sign an agreement that the show will not air if we ask even a single question
not provided to you in advance. We aren’t looking to sensationalize the story for ratings—it’s already so outrageous that there’s no need to create drama.”

  “I need to think about this before I commit. Send me the questions and I’ll look them over. When do you need an answer?”

  She cleared her throat nervously, “Well, ideally by tomorrow morning. We need to set the schedule and prepare the promo spots to begin airing.”

  “No pressure, huh?”

  “Sorry, I want to time the airing for maximum impact.”

  “Email me and I’ll get back to you with my decision by tomorrow morning.”

  “Great. Thank you so much.”

  After we hung up I sat at the kitchen table, debating. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to be the spokesperson for every rape victim. I didn’t want the whole world to know my name, know what had been done to me. But the guilt of doing nothing gnawed at me.

  I grabbed my phone and dialed Thia’s cell phone. She answered on the first ring.

  “Can you be at my office in fifteen minutes?”

  That was quite the greeting, although I would have been disappointed if she’d answered the phone with a typical ‘hello.’

  “I’ll be there.”

  I called Griffin on my way to let him know I was headed to Thia’s and I needed to discuss something with him when he had time. He tried to cover the concern in his voice but failed miserably. We agreed I’d come to The Stop immediately after my appointment.

  I arrived a few minutes early and met Thia in the parking lot.

  “Sorry, I was coming from the university. My schedule is tight today, so you’re only allowed forty minutes to sort out whatever ails you. No niceties or stalling…straight to the point. Got it?”

  “You got it, boss lady.”

  We entered her office, where I immediately recapped the phone call and my hesitation.