When he finally raised his eyes to meet mine, I was surprised by what I saw in them—if I didn’t know better, I would say it was pain. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he said softly.
“Then stop hurting me.” My voice didn’t waver.
Holding his palms up in front of his shoulders, he took a step backward.
The hum of a car engine caught our attention. When I realized it was Logan and his friends, my body automatically tensed up and I hoped Justice didn’t notice.
“Well, here comes the cavalry now,” he said coolly as he turned his head to glare at the shiny red Mustang fishtailing into the gravel parking lot. He smacked the back of his hand against the side of the truck and started toward the steps of the diner.
A knot formed in my throat as I watched him walk away. It reminded me of when we were kids—he’d walk me home from his house and wait for me to see what condition Jack was in before he left me. If things were okay, I’d give him the thumbs up and he’d head back across the field. If they weren’t, I’d go back to his house and spend the night.
My heart ached for him to turn around and wait for me to give him the thumbs up before he left me with Logan. But this time I knew it wasn’t going to happen.
To my surprise, he did turn back when he reached the top of the diner steps, giving me one more chance. My pulse quickened, then went still; as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t give Justice the thumbs up. As much as I wanted to run after him, apologize, then go on that trail ride, I couldn’t. I wasn’t a kid anymore; I’d made the choice to have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who really, truly cared about me.
I forced myself to relax and waited for Logan and his friends to pull over to me. I hoped none of them saw me talking to Justice. I was too tired for an interrogation, and I felt bad enough anyway—that was the first real argument I’d ever had with Justice and the last thing I wanted.
I realized now that Justice could see right through me. I had desperately wanted to keep things from him, to pretend everything was fine, to be able to lie to him—to lie to myself, for that matter. After all, why shouldn’t I be able to maintain a friendship with my childhood best friend and have a boyfriend at the same time? It wasn’t fair that I had to choose. Foolishly, I ignored all my instincts and chose the big bad wolf and his bag of tricks.
And it had cost me everything.
17
DECISIONS
Strong arms pulled me into a sitting position, and I was only half-aware that it was Charlie. “What…” I lifted my heavy head.
“Come on, let’s get you off the pavement.” Charlie guided me from the back parking lot to a barstool inside.
My head was swimming. A shot of tequila and two beers on an empty stomach wasn’t one of my better ideas. “Where is everybody?” I rubbed my face.
“The bar is closed, and the girls went out dancin’.” He mashed his lips together, trying to conceal a smile. “They were pretty fired up after that little show you put on tonight—I think they were in the mood to celebrate.”
I chose to ignore him. “We got any crackers?”
“I’ll get ‘em. You stay put,” he ordered. “I don’t feel like scrapin’ you off the floor.”
Charlie returned with a sleeve of saltines and then fixed me an ice-cold glass of Sprite. He poked in a straw and pushed it over to me.
I took a long and grateful drink. “Mmm, thanks, Charlie.” Memories of the night started creeping back, and I hung my head. “Sorry about tonight.”
His eyes gleamed. “The girls said that’s the biggest spark they’ve seen outta you in a long time. Figured you must be startin’ to feel like your old self again.”
I slumped my shoulders. “The truth is, I don’t feel much of anything. I just don’t feel anything.”
“You felt angry tonight, didn’t you?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, that’s a good start.” He lit a cigarette and then set it in the ashtray.
“How do you figure?”
“It means you have a pulse.”
I considered that until I heard a small snort.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“The look on that big guy’s face when you hauled off and punched him in the mouth.”
“Glad I could provide entertainment for everyone,” I scowled. “Nice of you people to rush over and offer assistance so quickly, too.”
The creases around his mouth relaxed. “River, you’ve been in a fog since you got here. We all knew you needed to be shook up. It seemed the only way to do that was to let you get good and mad and handle things all by yourself.”
I nibbled the edge of a cracker. “I guess ya’ll got what you wanted, then.”
Charlie propped his hands on the edge of the bar, straightened his arms to lean into it, and looked me in the eyes. “River, I think it’s about time you tell me your side of the story.”
I took a big gulp of my Sprite and swallowed. “Well… as soon as those guys came in tonight…”
He shook his head. “I don’t mean that story.”
“What—?”
“Tell me what happened with that boy down in Texas.”
A flash of heat engulfed my body, and my second gulp of Sprite threatened to come out my nose. “How did—?”
“Come on, give this old man a little more credit than that. I’ve known the whole time. The story was all over the news.”
It was suddenly a thousand degrees in the bar. I pointed to the wall-mounted TV in the corner. “But your TV’s been broken since—”
He reached for the cord behind the bar and held it up. Damn. He’d unplugged it but told everyone it was broken. “Besides, there’s newspapers.”
“But…if you knew, then why did…”
“I knew you girls were in some kind of trouble the minute I laid eyes on ya. You were different than most of the ones I see floatin’ around Vegas. It was plain to see you needed some help, and I knew if I didn’t give you a chance, you likely wouldn’t get one.”
The load on my shoulders lightened. Now there was one less person I had to lie to. Carefully avoiding intimate details, I skimmed through the story, and then looked up at him. “That’s not what I wanted, Charlie. None of it.”
“I know,” he said gently.
“But…why would you risk getting in trouble for us… for me?” A lump caught in my throat.
Any hint of light in his eyes faded away. He took a long drag off his cigarette and exhaled. “I had a daughter once. When she was your age, she got on drugs, things got out of control, and she ran away. I got a few tips that she was in Vegas. When months went by and I couldn’t find her, I moved here from Texas and opened this place, hoping I’d eventually run across a better lead. I never saw her again,” his voice cracked, and he began to rub at an imaginary spot on the bar, “until the day I had to bury her. Drug overdose. Never forgave myself for not being able to help her sooner—when she could still be helped.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. When he finally looked up, it became clear to me where all the lines in his face had come from. They told a heartbreaking story—one of worry, and anger, and deep sadness. Now I completely understood why Charlie not only wanted but needed to help three lost girls.
He finished his cigarette and snuffed it out slowly. “You need to think about what you’re gonna do. You have to decide whether you’re gonna run ‘til they catch you, or fight.”
“What is there to fight? There’s no witnesses. I killed someone and ran away. I am guilty.”
“Did you do it on purpose? Did you plan it?”
“No,” I stammered, “but the evidence is overwhelming.”
“Sometimes the evidence works both ways.”
I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. “What evidence? His gun, his blood, and my fingerprints. I might as well hand them the key so they can lock the jail cell behind me.” I folded my arms and laid my head on the bar, face down.
&nb
sp; “Your only other choice is to stay in that musty old basement—”
“It’s not so bad.”
“And ward off drunk, obnoxious jerks the rest of your life.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” I mumbled to the bar top.
He walked to my side of the bar to give me a hand. “Come on, kid, you should get some sleep.”
I wobbled off the stool. “I’m fine.”
Charlie put his arm on my back anyway and escorted me down the stairs to make sure I didn’t fall down them—or throw myself down them.
When we got to the bottom, he turned toward me, his eyes tired. “River, there’s no way around it—you have to face your past. Take it from an old man who’s spent most of his life tryin’ to forget his.”
I looked away. “How? How do I face what I’ve done?”
“You deal with it.” His tone was direct and unapologetic.
Without a doubt, I knew Charlie was right, but knowing how to deal with it was the problem.
Shutting the door behind me, I fumbled for the light switch and knocked a glass of water off the kitchen counter. When I opened the drawer for a dishtowel and pulled out the last one, I was startled to find Kat’s hiding place. Pushing aside a stack of cash, I picked up Billi Jo’s emergency income necklaces and let the shiny gold strands slip between my fingers. I smiled, thinking of how my friends were looking out for me—and they had given up so much to do it.
I took the gold necklaces to the couch and lowered myself onto the cushions. Pouring the gold chains from one hand to the other, I thought about all the sacrifices Kat and Billi Jo had made to help me. After replaying each one, I was sure of one thing—Kat was right. I had to sink or swim. I had been drowning my friends in my desperate struggle to avoid the truth and the pain. They were the sole reason I wasn’t in a jail cell or six feet under. They’d been the masterminds of my escape, my accomplices in hiding, and my partners in crime by association. They were the only reason I had stayed afloat, and now I realized…it was my turn to swim awhile.
After much consideration, I still had no idea how to do it, but I knew I’d have to start by taking that first step. Tired as my body was, I peeled myself off of the couch and went upstairs to the bar. It was quiet except for the sound of clinking dishes coming from the kitchen and the ch-ching of Charlie’s archaic adding machine. When he saw me, he motioned his head toward one of the booths.
I followed a cloud of smoke and found Kat resting her head against the back of a booth seat and blowing smoke rings. As I sat down across from her, she pushed her beer toward me and blew three more rings before sitting up straight.
Even though the last thing I wanted was alcohol, my throat was suddenly dry, so I took a sip of the beer. “Kat, there’s something I need to get off my chest.”
“Shoot.”
I picked at the beer bottle’s label with my fingernail. “I only meant to scare him with the gun.”
She grabbed the beer out of my hand, swigged, and set it back down. “I know.”
“But how do you know? We’ve never discussed that night.”
She cut right to the chase. “He tried to rape you, didn’t he?”
“How did—”
“I have a sixth sense about these things.” She took a long drag off her cigarette and looked away as she exhaled. “When I was a kid…one of my mom’s boyfriends came after me.” She turned back to face me, making a point to stare into my eyes. “I wish I could’ve killed him.”
It felt like a steel beam was sitting on my chest. I’d known her since we were eleven, and she’d never confided this to me. Probably never confided it to anyone. “Wh—”
She put her hand up, letting me know that was as far as she was going with the conversation. We sat there in silence, sharing a beer, some cigarette smoke, and our pain.
I finally started again. “He was getting really aggressive, and he wouldn’t back off. He tried to get the gun away from me, we struggled, and it just exploded. I didn’t mean to kill him. It was…an accident,” I whispered as if realizing it for the first time. “I’m not a murderer.”
She nodded her head while I gave my brain time to process this discovery.
“What if I could get one of his friends to testify about his jealousy or temper?” I gnawed on the edge of my fingernail. “Maybe his friend Red would testify about the night Logan threatened that guy who’d supposedly jumped him with a gun. I mean, it was a rumor, but later he admitted it was true. Red knows the truth, and so does—”
“His friends would never go up against Logan’s family. Neither would his enemies—if that guy didn’t come forward back when it first happened, he won’t now.”
“Just one good witness.” I tried to comb my fingers through my sticky hair. There had to be a way. After a few minutes, I remembered something that had crossed my mind a couple of times. “I know it’s probably a long shot, and maybe it sounds crazy, but what if I wasn’t the only one? It’s probably too good to be true—in a bad way, I mean. But what if I wasn’t the only girl Logan ever…”
Kat closed her eyes for a couple of seconds before she spoke. “I’d say there’s a really good chance you weren’t the first girl to see that side of him, and you probably wouldn’t have been the last if—”
I shivered. “I can’t wait around anymore. I have to do something.”
Kat stared at me, a deep, thoughtful stare, as if she were gauging how serious I was. After she methodically crushed her cigarette in the ashtray, she stood up and fished a piece of paper out of her back pocket. “Then you might want this.”
I unfolded the printed e-mail from Jamie, and my heart began to race as I read the words:
Hey, I have some news that could help you. You won’t believe this, but someone sent me an anonymous letter saying Logan raped a girl last year. Her name is Rachel Banard. She was new in town and would’ve started at our school last fall, but she and her family left town before that could happen. Oh my god, do you know what this means?
Be careful; they are still watching me.
I love you!!
P.S. J. is worried sick about you, and it’s killing me not to be able to tell him anything.
And by J., I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she was not referring to my counterfeit father. The steel beam seemed to lift from my chest slightly at the thought of Justice, but I quickly pushed his image away. Forcing myself to stay focused on the information in the letter, my head snapped up as I reread it. “We’ve been in Vegas over two months, and this is dated three and a half weeks ago. Why are you just now giving it to me?”
Kat’s eyes grew serious. “We’d come this far; I couldn’t let you screw it up. You needed some time. You needed to hit the bottom before you could bounce back up—before you were ready to fight.”
As irritated as I was at her for keeping the e-mail from me, I had stronger feelings to deal with now. I had hope—real hope. Clutching the letter, I whispered my new mission statement, “I’m not going to prison without a fight.” Then, with a little more conviction, I said it again, “I’m not going to prison without a fight.”
Kat drummed her hands on the table. “Halla-fuckin’-lujah, she’s back!”
Charlie shot Kat a reprimanding glare while I began spontaneously spouting off detective ideas.
Kat waved her arms. “Slow down, Sherlock; the law is looking for you, remember?”
I sat up straighter. “Yeah, but they won’t be lookin’ in Texas.”
Speechless, Kat followed me to the bar. While a grumbling Charlie tried to close out the register, I started shuffling around for writing materials and a phone book. “Hey, Charlie, you mind if I take one of these postcards?”
“What for?”
“I thought I’d send the cops—by way of intercepting my sister’s mail—a ‘missing you’ card.” I smirked. “After I’m far, far away from Vegas, of course.”
Charlie gave me a sly grin and gestured toward the stack of clutter. “Take all you want.”
&n
bsp; I gave him a quick peck on the cheek when he scooted by me. “Goodnight, Old Man.”
He gave me a stern look. “I expect a full report on that plan of yours before you take off.”
I smiled. “You got it.”
Kat peered over my shoulder as I addressed the postcard to my sister back home. I flipped it over and scribbled, It was self-defense, and then grabbed a couple more. “I’m going to take the long way back to Texas—maybe up to Idaho, zig-zag through Wyoming… The cops won’t know which direction to go in. While they’re busy scouring the towns these postcards came from, I’ll be in Texas searching for Rachel Banard.”
Kat grinned and puffed her chest out like a momma bird who’d just watched her baby leave the nest. “So, when are we leaving?”
18
CHANGE OF PLANS
“Okay, you’ve had a whole twenty-four hours to think about it, so what’s the plan?” Charlie closed the register. My friends pulled up bar stools on either side of me and waited for my answer.
“I’m going to leave in five days. That’ll give me enough time to make a little more cash, get my travel route mapped out,” I pulled the e-mail from Jamie out of my back pocket, “and go to the library so I can e-mail Jamie and give her the heads up. I need her to do something for me. She works with kids during summer school, so it shouldn’t be too hard for her to get access to the office…and Rachel Banard’s school records.”
“But Rachel never officially started at our school,” Kat said.
I folded the paper. “I know, but I’m hoping she would’ve sent some transcripts, filled out paperwork or something.”
Charlie set a rocks glass on the bar and filled it with ice and Maker’s. “What if that doesn’t turn up anything? Then what?”
“I’m going back to Texas either way. I have to try and find this girl, and if I can’t, I know the names of two of Logan’s ex-girlfriends. They might’ve had some bad experiences with him, too.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a solid plan,” Charlie sloshed his drink in a circular motion, “but I’ll make a phone call to an old friend who lives in Texas. He might be able to get some information on this Rachel before you leave.”
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