“So, you tell me, then, but not in a police station, not in a room with cameras, not where it’s all recorded and on record.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay,” she said. She turned on her heel and started walking back to the station.
He came after her. “Look, Dawson, you can’t just walk away from me now.”
“I can, and I am.”
“All right, well, aren’t there other things we should be talking about? What’s going on with getting more protection at Belinda’s place, for instance? And the sex worker that he sent me a picture of? She says that he never even contacted her, so—”
Dawson whirled on him. “You talked to this woman?”
“I did,” he said. “She wasn’t very interested in talking, admittedly, and it would have been easier if you’d just given me her address, but I found her, and she talked to me, at least briefly. Something’s going on. Finn didn’t text me those photos for nothing.”
“He’s messing with your head, Liam.”
“Sure,” said Liam. “But there’s more to it. He’s going to go after that woman. I know it. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the next day, but that was significant. He wants me to kill with him, and by making me select the victim, he made me complicit, and he’s not going to let that go.”
Dawson spread her hands. “Well, we’re watching her. I don’t know what else we can do.” She turned and started to walk again.
Jennings from the front desk was now standing in front of the station. “Dawson!” yelled Jennings. “You’ve got a body.”
Dawson’s heart stopped. “What?” But she didn’t want Jennings to yell that again. She took off jogging, making it back to the station in only moments.
“Mitch Clark called, asking for you, said he thinks it’s related to Slater,” said Jennings.
“Fuck,” said Dawson.
“I’m coming with you,” said Liam, who must have run as well.
Dawson shook her head. “You’re a civilian, and I don’t need you—”
“I’m consulting on this case, and I know it’s going to be her,” said Liam. “You were supposed to be watching her, huh? Well, I’m starting to think that this police department is really incompetent.”
Dawson sighed. She was too tired to fight him.
* * *
Liam eyed the woman in the car. She had a quote taped to her head from This Love. It was something Aurora had said. Trying to choose is sweet agony.
The woman in the car was not Madeleine Brix, but Liam recognized her just the same. She was the other picture that Finn had texted him.
Stupid, he thought. I’m so stupid.
When Finn had told him to choose, Liam had assumed he meant to choose which woman would be Finn’s victim. But apparently, Liam had chosen the woman to survive. Finn had known that Liam would take it the wrong way, and that all of the attention would be focused elsewhere. That had left Finn free to secure the services of this other sex worker and to kill her.
Even though Finn hadn’t killed the woman that Liam had selected, it was still his fault. If he’d refused to pick one, things might have gone differently. Maybe not, but maybe so. If he’d figured it all out, then things definitely could have gone differently.
Liam had been so focused on saving Madeleine Brix, he hadn’t even considered this other woman. Why hadn’t he? He should have sent the photo to Dawson. He should have looked at this woman’s Craigslist ad as well.
Dawson was talking to the other police detective there, and she was preoccupied with her duties at the scene.
She came back to him for a moment, telling him that this was going to occupy her for probably the rest of the day. “And then,” she said, “I’m going to need to sleep. So, whatever you want to tell me, it’ll probably need to wait at least until tomorrow.”
“All right,” he said. “Belinda’s supposed to be home tomorrow around dinner.”
“Good, we’ll catch up after then,” she said, dismissing him. Then she went off to stand next to the crime-scene photographer and ask questions.
Liam stuck around the crime scene for a while, and then he went back to Belinda’s house.
He managed to nap a few hours and then to get a shower before Madison got home.
Luckily, she didn’t want to have any conversations that evening about weight loss or boys or her cheeks.
Liam waited to hear from Finn, but his phone was silent.
He checked in with the officer who was parked at the end of the driveway and with the one who was doing the rounds in the neighborhood and stopping by every fifteen minutes or so.
By midnight, he’d still heard nothing from Finn, and so he went to bed and slept.
The next day, Belinda texted to say that she’d be home early, in the mid-afternoon.
When she got there, he felt the need to tell her that Finn had been at the house.
This did not please her.
“There’s an increased police presence outside,” Liam said. “If you hear or see anything, you need to call for help.”
“You shouldn’t have let me stay at the conference another night,” she said. “You should have called me.”
“Well, he came to see me,” said Liam. “So, maybe if I go away, you’ll be safe.”
Belinda shook her head at him. “I guess you should go away, then.”
“I’m really sorry about this, Belinda.”
“It’s not your fault he’s a psycho,” she said. “But we can’t live like this, Liam.”
“We’re going to catch him,” said Liam.
“When?” said Belinda.
Liam drove home feeling dejected.
* * *
Dawson came home to find Liam sitting on the steps outside her house. He had a bottle of bourbon between his knees. He offered it to her.
She snatched it away from him and took a drink. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought we made a date,” he said.
“I thought I’d come to you,” she said. She felt more comfortable with that idea. Liam coming here, it was intruding on her personal space, bringing the case home. Of course, Slater had already broken that barrier, hadn’t he?
“Sorry,” he said. “I guess I should have called first.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go up.”
He got to his feet and started up the stairs.
She went behind him.
At the door, she unlocked it, relieved to find it still locked, even though she wasn’t sure it mattered, since Slater had probably picked the lock before. He could have gone inside and locked the door behind him.
She drew her gun.
Liam started.
“Just in case,” she said. “Get behind me while I check the place.”
He complied.
She went through the living room and the bathroom. Then she climbed up into the loft.
The place was empty.
Back downstairs, she sat down on a stool in front of the breakfast bar. “Well, what do you think? You want to get food delivered or something?”
Liam shrugged. “Are you hungry or are you just trying to delay this conversation?”
“Look, I think I know how it happened,” she said. “I think you really were drunk, and you really do have holes in your memory, so maybe you’re confused about what happened. I do think you walked out on Slater having intercourse with Destiny, but I think she was already dead at that point. I think you didn’t mean to do it, but that the three of you were having some kind of threeway—”
“He was raping me while it happened,” Liam interrupted.
She turned to look at him, and somehow his words made it impossible for her to speak.
He let out a breath. “Well, that was weird to say out loud.” He settled down on a bar stool and he studied the floor. “I, uh, I mean, I guess I’ve always known that’s what it was, but I never called it that. It seemed like it didn’t fit, like that wasn’t a word I could apply to the situation. Li
ke, it couldn’t be rape, because I was a man, and I was… besides, I had a thing with him, and he said that I consented to it, but I don’t remember doing that. What I remember is saying, ‘Don’t,’ and saying ‘Stop,’ and begging him...”
She set her hands down on the breakfast bar, still speechless.
“But he didn’t stop. He didn’t at all, and Destiny was a participant in the whole thing. We were… all… I was inside her. He was inside me. And I wanted it to stop, and they wouldn’t stop, and I…” He swallowed, raising his gaze. He focused on something above her head. “I never felt so helpless in my life. That was the worst of it. It hurt, of course. It was painful, but it… was the loss of control, the fact that I didn’t have a say over what was happening to my body, that was the worst part.” Liam let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Sorry to, uh, to just dump that on you.”
“It’s okay,” she said, emphasizing it, trying to reassure him. “I, um, I’m sorry.”
He made the funny breathy laugh again.
She cringed. “That’s stupid to say. It’s not adequate. It’s…”
It was quiet.
“So, anyway, she was taunting me,” said Liam, turning his gaze back to the floor. “She said some stuff to me about liking it, and I didn’t like it, and she asked me to put my hands around her neck, and Finn told me to do it, too, and I just—I was angry. I was pinned down, and he was—” He grimaced. “I couldn’t get up. I don’t think I could. Maybe I should have fought him, maybe I shouldn’t have taken it out on her, but it was so bad, and I was so… I couldn’t seem to…”
“It’s okay,” said Dawson. “I understand.” She didn’t, not exactly, but she had enough of a picture of it that she didn’t need him to torture himself trying to dredge it all up. She could see how traumatic it all was for him, and she understood why he’d lied about it. Even if he hadn’t been worried about the implications or about his possible guilt, she couldn’t imagine his wanting to talk about the experience.
He hung his head.
Silence.
She tried to think of something to say, and she couldn’t. She didn’t know what to say. If he were any other friend of hers, and he was telling her something traumatic, she would offer a hug, but she didn’t know if that was a good idea—both because of the content of the thing he was talking about and because of their history.
“Does it matter?” he said in a quiet voice.
“Matter?”
“To my guilt,” he said.
“Probably,” she said. “I think it might be classified as self-defense. At any rate, in a situation like that, a person might act in all kinds of ways.”
He took a deep breath and let it out. “Really?” There was a hope in his voice.
“I don’t think we should report it,” she said. “You don’t want to go on trial for this, do you? You don’t want to talk about this on the stand in a room full of people?”
He swallowed.
“We’ve got enough on Slater,” she said. “He’s going to go away for the rest of his life, at the least. I’d say he’s probably a shoo-in for the death penalty. We don’t need your testimony. Ultimately, reporting all that only hurts you. It doesn’t change anything. And, the truth is, Slater’s the one who’s responsible for her death. If he hadn’t put you in that situation, you would never have done it.”
“Yeah, this is what I always said to myself to justify not telling you.”
“Well, I understand,” she said.
“Do you wish I hadn’t told you?”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“Because it feels… good to get it out,” he said. “And it changes things somehow, just saying what it is.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I’m a rape victim.”
She was again at a loss for words.
“So, why am I still… why does he have power over me?”
She wanted to touch him. Was it wrong to touch him? She licked her lips. “Can I… I want to put my hand on your shoulder or hug you or something? Would that be bad?”
Wordlessly, he shook his head.
And then she wrapped her arms around him, and he crumpled into her, burrowing his head into the hollow of her neck and shoulder, and she held onto him. She whispered, “I think that might be common, actually. I think people often feel confused about the situation.”
“I hated it.” Liam’s voice was muffled. “I hate him. I hate everything about him. But he has this ability to make me feel out of control. And there’s this… this awful sexual response—sorry.” He stiffened, starting to pull back. “That’s probably too much information.”
“It’s okay,” she said, tightening her grip on him. “I think that’s really common too. A lot of victims blame themselves if they were sexually aroused, but it’s not something to give any credence to. It’s simply a physical response. It doesn’t mean that you liked it or that you’re to blame.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I know that. It’s just that when he talks to me… sometimes, it confuses me.”
“He’s too charismatic,” she said in a low voice, thinking of the way he’d touched her face, thinking of the way he’d kissed her forehead.
“He really is.”
Then they were quiet, and she just held onto him for a while until he extricated himself from her arms. He turned away, rubbing his forehead. He looked embarrassed.
She wished she knew the right thing to say. “I wish… I feel like I’m not responding the right way, like I’m not giving you what you need.”
He shook his head. “No, you’re great, actually. The things you said, they were good.” He gave her a shy, rueful smile. “Uh, I don’t want you to ever think that I would ever work with Finn, or that I would ever be involved in anything with him. He has an influence over me, but not that much of an influence.”
“I know,” she said. “I didn’t really believe that, anyway, I guess.”
“But you were suspicious of me.”
“I was, yeah,” she said.
“Are you still?”
She cocked her head to one side, thinking about it. “No,” she decided.
He raised his eyebrows. “You sound really sure of that.”
She laughed.
He furrowed his brow. “Well, I guess you didn’t pursue investigating my guilt in Destiny’s death, so that means that even if you did suspect me, you, um, you didn’t?”
“No, I did,” she said. “But, um, I like you.”
“Oh,” he said in a different voice.
“I shouldn’t,” she said. “I don’t mean to like you.”
“Gee, thanks.” Now, he was laughing.
“It’s just that it bothers me, Liam, because I feel as though I’m drawn to you against my better judgment.”
“Yeah, you said this before, about how I was the wrong sort of man.” He rubbed his jaw again. “And I get it. I’m a mess right now. I have… issues.” He seemed to remember the bourbon. He looked around and spied it on the breakfast bar and picked it up. He took another drink. “I also think I’m too old for you. I’m too old for everyone. I’m really old.”
She laughed.
He offered her the bottle of bourbon.
She took it and took a drink. “Okay, well, regardless of all of that, I can’t seem to help but be drawn to you. I should probably get myself taken off this case and let someone else take over, someone who can be objective—”
“No!” He shook his head. “I need you. I can’t do this without you.” He reached out a hand for the bourbon.
She handed it over. “I guess that Slater would just come after me, anyway, right? Because he’s already started to target me.”
“Yeah,” said Liam. “You’re in this. We’ve got to capture him together and put him back behind bars. I need to do that, and you’ll let me help. No one else would.” He took another drink from the bottle and then set it down.
“Well, how do we do that? Why can’t we find the bastard?”
“I don’t
know,” said Liam. “But whatever hold he has on me, I feel like it’s loosening. And I think that’s going to help things.”
“I don’t have any leads,” she said. “I don’t know where to look for him. The only information I have is about things from the past, and I’m not even sure how much they’re related to Slater.” She sighed. “But never mind all that. We’ve done enough talking about the past for tonight. You’ve got to feel pretty wrung out after telling me something so harrowing.”
“You know,” he said, “I don’t. I feel lighter, actually.”
She smiled at him. “Well, that’s good.”
He smiled back. “Yeah, it is.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next morning, Liam woke up and made breakfast to go along with his coffee. He felt very hungry for the first time in a long time.
Typically, he’d roll out of bed and stagger to his desk chair and muddle around between checking social media and a forum with other YouTube creators and then he’d start a bit of work on his videos, hit a snag and go waste more time on social media, and then belatedly, realize it was dinner time and he hadn’t eaten anything.
But this morning, he felt focused and ready to work.
He took a shower, and he sat down and went right to productive tasks. He accomplished twice as much as he’d expected that day, meaning he was ahead of schedule, which was good.
The prevalent attitude amongst YouTubers was that releasing frequently was key to juicing the YouTube algorithms and keeping one’s channel afloat. And by frequently, they meant daily. Weekly, at the very least.
If you couldn’t release frequently, though, you should release on a schedule.
Liam had not been able to follow either of these well-placed bits of advice, even though he agreed with them. In fact, if he ever ended up in a conversation with a would-be YouTuber, he would faithfully parrot them back as the best thing a person could do in order to get their channel to the next level.
The next piece of advice he’d give would be to try to make videos about things that people wanted to watch.
He was probably the only channel of his kind that he knew of. His channel had started out on a lark. He’d been trying to tell his friends that they should watch How To Get Away With Magic. And they would usually be resistant, because it was a vampire show, and it was for teenage girls, and he would try to explain to them that it wasn’t that way at all. There were vampires in it, but there were a lot of other magical creatures, too. And that it was set during college, and it was very tonally sarcastic and cutting, that it wasn’t some fantasy romance show but a show about life and friendship and relationships.
The Temptation of Silence Page 10