Stay Away From My Daughter

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  “Were you doing drugs?” he finally said.

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Sex?” Laura said. “We’re not fools. We kind of know what goes on in college dorms.”

  This time, Sara pulled in another breath, and the way she gripped her coffee, he had the answer he didn’t want.

  “Not in the way you think,” she said. “We were just fooling around, that’s all. And it wasn’t just tequila. Someone brought in a bunch of prescription pills, and one of the kids crushed them up. A few were snorting lines, but not me. I heard the dealer who delivered the party favors was there.”

  Andy wondered if he’d stopped breathing. By the way Laura stared at their daughter, he knew she didn’t know what to say, either.

  “So now you know everything,” Sara said. “And no, I have no idea who the guy is who attacked me, or if he was at the party, or who the dealer was.”

  The front door opened, and the screen slapped closed.

  “Hey, Tiffy and I are out of milk, and Brandon is demanding…” Jeremy was in a faded T-shirt and blue jeans, his boots barely pulled on. He stopped in the kitchen, took one look at Sara’s face, and paused before dragging his gaze over to Andy and asking, “What the hell happened?”

  “Some guy attacked me last night in the parking lot of the college dorm,” Sara replied, and she rested her mug back on the counter.

  “Attacked? It looks like more than that,” Jeremy said.

  Sara just pulled her arms across her front again. “Depends on who you talk to. I’m going to grab a hot shower.” Then she walked out of the kitchen and down the hall.

  “Seriously, what was that about?” Jeremy said, gesturing to Sara. “She was attacked? By who?”

  “We don’t know,” Andy said. “It seems your sister has a secret life she hasn’t wanted us to know about. The college parties, the drinking?”

  Jeremy looked from his dad to his mom.

  “But we’re going to find out,” Andy continued, “and we’ll find the guy. And when I do…” He stopped talking and shook his head.

  “You’ll see to it that he wishes he’d never laid a hand on our daughter,” Laura said.

  Andy took in his wife, seeing how strong she was, knowing that she understood clearly how far he’d go. A man trying to take from a woman like that was bad enough, but when it was his daughter, that was a line this man would soon wish he’d never crossed.

  Chapter 5

  “So did you get the money?”

  Devon swore, at times, that Anton never moved from the sofa in the apartment they rented just outside downtown, where the rents were cheap. What was his brother doing? Playing video games, the same thing he did almost every minute of every day. He never even pulled his gaze from the large-screen TV as he handled the controller, speaking over the sound of guns blasting.

  “Nope. Kind of ran into a problem,” Devon said as he dropped the keys to his old Mazda on the table and walked into the galley kitchen, where he pulled open the door to the fridge, which had a perpetual rattle. Like everything in this apartment, it was showing its age. He pulled out an orange soda and cracked the top, hearing a thump, knowing his brother had likely dumped the controller on the coffee table and he now had his full attention.

  “And what exactly would that be? Fuck, Devon. We kind of need that money for rent, gas, expenses…” Anton was a year older but had always seemed older than that, considering he’d been the only one to ever give a shit about Devon while they were growing up.

  Devon walked out of the kitchen into the small dining room, which was furnished with a bargain basement table and three mismatched chairs. “You think I don’t know that? Look, a girl was attacked. I intervened, pulled the guy off her. After, the cops were there…”

  “Whoa, whoa!” Anton cut him off. “What the fuck? What the hell do you mean, cops? What did you do?” His expression darkened. Of course he was pissed, angry, and Devon could see his disbelief. His mind was likely going right to the worst case, and he knew Anton would have a lot to say about what he had done. “A girl was attacked and you did what, exactly? Are you serious, Devon? Have I taught you nothing? Has that pretty head of yours heard anything I’ve ever said to you?”

  Anton was now standing barefoot in sweats and the same blue T-shirt he’d been wearing for the last two days. But at least he’d shaved his face and his head. He was a big guy, the same height as Devon, six two, but he had at least fifty pounds on him, give or take. He took after his own dad, and Devon took after his.

  “Look, you weren’t there,” Devon said. “The guy was on top of her in the parking lot. He beat the crap out of her and was in the process of working her pants down. She screamed. He’d have raped her, likely killed her if I hadn’t stepped in. You think I should have ignored it and kept walking?” He held the soda can and took in his brother’s pissed-off expression, which held not an ounce of sympathy.

  “I think you should’ve kept your head down and minded your fucking business. The girl isn’t your problem,” Anton snapped. “Sticking your neck out for some strange girl could cause us both some serious problems.”

  “Maybe so, but let me ask you this. If a white girl’s raped in the parking lot, how long do you think it is until the finger is pointed at me?”

  The way Anton watched him, he knew he didn’t get it.

  “I’m on campus late,” he continued. “I’m not supposed to be there, so I must be selling something. They start pulling up security footage from somewhere and see my face, or maybe your contact on campus who I was going to meet tosses my name out because he gets caught. Yeah, I didn’t rape her, but it would be easy enough to jam me up, point the finger at me, and create something circumstantial. Or how about this scenario, which is way worse? A white girl is found dead and raped in the college parking lot. How hard do you think they would look for anyone else once they learned I was there? That could have me sitting on death row, and you know it.”

  He lifted the soda, because saying out loud what had been in the back of his mind only brought out a fear that he hadn’t been willing to admit. A cold sweat chilled his spine. “No, I did the right thing, pulling the white boy off her, saving her—and you know what? Now I’m the hero.”

  That hadn’t been why he’d saved her, but telling his brother why when he couldn’t explain it himself wouldn’t earn him any points. Then there was the sheriff, who he was pretty sure was going to track him down. No matter what he said, he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as them using his statement and then leaving him be. No, he’d be dragged right into the middle of a mess and might be asked a lot of questions about why he was on the campus even though that was completely irrelevant to the girl being assaulted. He’d seen enough of his friends and family get jammed up by the law and then screwed over by some public defender, accepting pleas for things they hadn’t done.

  “And the cops now have your name?” Anton said.

  “Yeah, but stop worrying. It’ll be fine. I’m not the one who attacked her.”

  The way his brother was staring over to him with that heavy gaze, he knew he was still pissed. “But you know who did it?” he asked.

  What could he say? “It was dark…” he started, but the way his brother angled his head, narrowing his gaze, of course he knew he was trying to evade the question. “Maybe, but not a hundred percent. Could’ve been that jerkoff who never paid you a few months back, but I can’t say for sure, and I sure didn’t want to tell the cops.”

  “What the fuck? Seriously, if it was him and the cops catch him, then what? He saw you.”

  If the guy was caught and saw his name on the witness statement, that could bring down a whole host of problems, considering he’d told the sheriff he didn’t know who’d done it. “That’s if they find him,” he said.

  His brother groaned and shook his head, then smacked his hands together as if he needed to make a point. “That’s why I’ve told you, Devon, you keep your head down, you don’t get involved, and if something is
going down, you turn around and get the fuck out of there without attracting attention. And you never, never, ever give any cop your name, and never a statement! The only statement you have is that you didn’t see a fucking thing, but you wouldn’t be saying that, because you wouldn’t be there to begin with.”

  He took another swallow of his soda, remembering the haunted look in Sara’s eyes. Those amazing green eyes. “I stand by what I did,” he finally said. “And what difference does it make? It’s done. I think you’re making too big a deal out of it.”

  His brother sat back down on the sofa and reached for the controller. “No, I’m not, Devon. The problem is when they find this guy and he remembers you, how long do you think it’ll be before he tries making some deal with the cops in return for you and me? Not long, and you know what? I can tell you right now if the cops have a choice between going after a white boy or nailing another black one, it’ll be you and me. White boy will get a slap on the wrist, and both of us will be doing some serious hard time. Our lives will be over.” Anton tossed the controller on the sofa table again and then leaned back, running his hand across his forehead. Yup, he was mad.

  “I think you’re worrying over something that may never happen,” Devon said, but even as he did, he had a hard time believing it now since his brother had pointed out the obvious. The kind of idiots they dealt with didn’t have a loyal bone in their body, considering what they were doing and the services they were paying Anton for.

  His brother was shaking his head. “No. If they don’t find this white boy, then I guess we don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Devon froze with the soda halfway to his mouth as he took in his brother and the seriousness that had overcome him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Anton turned to him. “It means if it is the guy who didn’t pay me, then one of two things is going to happen. He’s going to disappear, or… There’s another alternative. Dead men don’t talk.”

  Devon just stared at Anton, who leaned back again and reached for the controller, then resumed playing his game.

  “And another thing,” he said. “The delivery you were supposed to make tonight, call him and reschedule, but this time, you make sure he gets it so that I can get the money we need.”

  “I’ll get the money, but, Anton, don’t do something we’ll both regret. You’re all I have left for family, and the last thing I want to do is visit you with a glass wall between us.”

  But his brother did what he always did: He gave all his attention to that damn video game about mercenaries and guns, killing anyone and everyone.

  Chapter 6

  “Heard you had a rough night?”

  Sara hadn’t heard Tiffy walk over from the barn, where she lived with Jeremy. The loft above it had been converted into a two-bedroom apartment, their dad’s gift to the couple so they would have their own home.

  Tiffy was in flip-flops, a jean skirt, and a striped T-shirt, and her dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. She stepped up onto the front porch, where Sara was sitting alone, her hair damp from the second shower she’d taken in four hours. There was just something about having had that man’s hands on her, and she couldn’t help feeling unclean. She’d scrubbed with a loofah at her skin until it was raw, trying to wash away his touch, which was still burned in her memory. She ached everywhere, and she was so tired.

  She stared down at her hands, taking in the crusted-over scrape, which was tight and pinched when she fisted her hand. It had been oozing fresh blood since her last shower. “You could say that, I guess,” she replied.

  It was a clear day, with the horses in the corral, and she could hear the cattle in the distance. She took in all the vehicles parked out front: two black trucks, one hers and one her dad’s, Gabriel’s beige pickup, Jeremy’s older-model Ford, her mom’s new Subaru, and Tiffy’s small compact. Add in the sheriff’s cruiser, and it was just a typical day at the Friessen home—that is, other than the fact that everyone was there because of her attack.

  The truth of her partying ways was now out in the open, and she couldn’t stand one more minute of being inside and being subjected to their glances, their looks, everyone discussing everything about her as if she wasn’t even there.

  Tiffy sat in the matching wicker chair beside the loveseat where Sara sat, her feet up on the matching outdoor table. She was uneasy with everything, unsettled, needing to do something and nothing. It was a horrible feeling.

  “You want to talk about it, or do you want to just sit and not talk?” Tiffy said.

  Sara pulled her gaze from her hands and over to Tiffy, wondering by the way she was watching her if she had any idea how she was feeling. “Where’s Brandon?” she asked.

  Her nephew was always there, bouncing from one house to the next, and she’d expected him to be in her face and asking her what she was up to or something. She was grateful he wasn’t.

  “I called my mom,” Tiffy said. “She came over a little while ago and picked him up. He’s going to spend the night. Kind of figured having him underfoot today wouldn’t be the best option.”

  Sara wasn’t sure how to take that. “Because you don’t want him to hear how awful his auntie is, considering he’s young and impressionable and I’m so…?”

  Tiffy reached over and touched her wrist, but she must have flinched, as she pulled her hand away. “No, Sara, that’s not why. None of us need him underfoot today, vying for our attention. This is about us being here for you, helping you. A day without him here will be good for us, for him, so we can give everything to you. It’s okay not to be okay, and no one’s judging you, Sara. It was a horrible thing that happened to you. If you want to talk about it, I’m here. I’ll listen and not say anything. If you don’t want to talk, how about I just sit here with you?”

  Sara could still hear the voices inside, and the giant ache in her stomach grew as she listened, knowing they were discussing her. Even though it wasn’t logical, she couldn’t help feeling everyone’s disappointment in her.

  “You know I was at a party last night,” she said and lifted her hand, looking at her nails, seeing the grit still under them.

  “Hey, no judgement here. There isn’t anyone here who didn’t party when they were your age, and seriously, Sara, I’d wonder if you were a normal teen if you hadn’t. Besides, this isn’t about the party or you drinking or the drugs passed around at the dorm, which we all know you were smart enough not to partake in. This is about some dirtbag attacking you, messing with you. Nothing about that was okay.”

  Sara couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder to the house.

  “It could have been so much worse,” Tiffy continued. “I know Jeremy was kind of freaked out when he heard. You’re his little sister, and someone messing with you… He’s not handling it well, I’m afraid.”

  She didn’t know what to say for a second, as Jeremy hadn’t said anything to her. Neither had Gabriel, but then, she’d basically walked out of the room when they showed up. “Thanks,” she replied. “I didn’t realize Jeremy had said that, but I don’t think my mom and dad see it that way. Even the sheriff last night laid into me about drinking and driving. I do know enough not to get behind the wheel impaired, but it was only a couple shots. I was fine, I’ve drunk far more than that, and…” She needed to stop talking, because she had no intention of letting her mom and dad find out about the first time she drank with her friends.

  She had been sixteen, staying over with a friend whose parents were away. It had been vodka and OJ, and they refilled the hard liquor bottle so no one would know. It had been great, fantastic, to do something she shouldn’t. It had also been the first time she puked. She hated vodka now.

  “Hey, none of us are saints,” Tiffy said. “Remember me over here? When your brother knocked me up, there was booze involved. I was only sixteen when I had Brandon. Stop beating yourself up, Sara. If you want me to say it, I will. You’re fantastic. You have a great head on your shoulders. You graduated high school with t
op grades, and you’re now taking how many courses in college? You’re creating a future for yourself. At eighteen, you’re supposed to be testing boundaries and having fun. What I see is a girl who can walk into a party where others are making stupid choices and instead make pretty good ones, having just a couple drinks and knowing your limit. To me, you rock! Last night was about some guy trying to take from you when no one has that right. I can see you’re pretty shaken up, and I’d be surprised if you weren’t, but make no mistake, Sara: No one is blaming you in any way. If you feel that’s what’s happening, then you’re wrong. Everyone is just upset and terrified because it could’ve been so much worse.”

  Tiffy had a way of talking that always made her feel better, but not today, even though the words helped.

  “He tried to rape me, Tiffy,” she said. “He overpowered me, and it happened so fast. He was in my face, talking me up the way guys do. I knew he was interested. I get it a lot. I know I’m attractive…”

  “Sorry, Sara. Yes, you’re hot, but that’s completely irrelevant and doesn’t make you responsible for what he did. That jerkoff is totally, one hundred percent responsible. Everyone is responsible for their actions, and what he did was, without question, a crime. It has nothing to do with how you look, how you were dressed, whether you were drinking, any of it. All of that is completely irrelevant. He hurt you, he put his hands on you, and he didn’t have your permission. End of story. At the same time, Sara, not every man is like that. I can see your spooked look now. Then there’s the guy who pulled him off you, who stepped in to help you…”

  “Devon,” she said.

  A hint of a smile touched Tiffy’s lips. “Yeah, Devon, good guy. You thought about reaching out to him, talking to him?”

  She wasn’t sure why Tiffy would suggest that, so she shrugged, feeling the tightness in her shoulder socket, where her arm had been wrenched back so hard. “Would it be crazy if I said I considered it? Even though you and I both know my dad would have a major meltdown if I said I was going out.”