She’d questioned it once, early into the marriage, when she’d realized the bath routine never included words of love, or romantic overtures, or cherished looks.
Jack had been defensive. “Why wouldn’t I want to see my beautiful wife? Most men don’t care at all. You’re damn lucky.” He’d then proceeded to prove how lucky she was by dragging her to bed.
So, on this particular Friday night, Katie pretended she didn’t mind him opening the shower doors to get a better look. Afterward, he held out a towel, encouraging her to walk naked toward him. He watched her body and not her face.
Katie considered that a good thing as revulsion shimmered across her skin, and hatred leaked from her eyes.
Chapter 11
A week later, Katie breezed into the Morrison’s house as Bob and Julie were heading out. The three adults barely missed a collision at the door. Julie laughed and announced, “We’re going grocery shopping. There’s nothing to eat in here!” They were gone before Katie could reply.
Cassie rolled into the living room and agreed. “No kidding. We’re down to carrots and oatmeal. Ugg. Let’s order pizza. I want a big greasy slice with the works.” She rarely had an appetite, so the statement came as a surprise to Katie.
“Okay, but I don’t have any cash. Does the pizza place take debit cards?”
“How can you not have any money in that purse? You could have hundreds of dollars hiding in the bottom. How would you know?”
“Jack doesn’t believe in cash. He says it’s too easy to lose track of where we spend our money.”
“So, what do you do if you want to stop and get something to drink? Put a dollar-sixty-nine on your debit card?” Cassie joked, but at Katie’s shrug, she frowned heavily. “Fine. My treat!”
After lunch, Cassie sat by the window, fiddling with her lap blanket. Katie tried to make her smile by telling a joke, “Did you hear about the two guys that stole a calendar? They each got two months.”
Cassie didn’t respond.
Katie walked over and rubbed Cassie’s. “What’s up with you?”
“Homecoming’s this weekend.”
“Do you ever hear from your high school friends?” Katie gestured toward the groaning bookcases in Cassie’s room. Dozens of photographs vied for space amongst the eclectic mix of nonfiction titles ranging from accounting to philosophy.
“Not as much anymore. I got to be too much work.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. After the accident, I was a celebrity. My friends took turns pushing me down the hallways, getting my books, hanging out. It was great for a year, but things changed.”
“People don’t always say or do the right things around someone who’s disabled. Jerks.”
“They didn’t mean it. My girlfriends would be excited about a dance at school, and then stop talking mid-sentence, embarrassed because I couldn’t dance. It bothered them more than it did me, but eventually, they quit sharing the important stuff—dates, driving, sex. Occasionally, one of them stops by or sends a text. And now it’s too late.” Cassie’s eyes welled, and she wiped her face. “Do you think we could drive by the school today? I know it’s silly, but I’d like to see the football field one more time.”
“Absolutely.” Katie glanced toward the driveway and groaned, “Oh, no. Your parents took the van.” Not ever imagining the girls would want to venture out, Bob and Julie had taken the handicapped vehicle, out of habit.
“That’s okay. We’ll take your car. If you move your front seat all the way back, you can scoot me in. That’s how we used to do it before we had the van.”
Chewing her lip, Katie asked, “How far is the school?”
“Six or seven miles? Why?”
“Jack,” Katie let the sentence hang, pursing her lips and thinking. “Oh, never mind.”
“What? Tell me.”
“Jack watches the mileage.”
“What? Are you frickin’ kidding me? Why would he care?”
“He worries and likes to know where I am.”
“You mean he wants to know where you’ve been, don’t you?”
The question startled Katie. “No, it’s just that...”
“It’s just that your husband is an asshole.”
“Why would you say that?”
On cue, Jack called. Katie turned her back on Cassie and answered cheerily, “Hey! What’s up?”
Cassie listened to Katie’s end of the conversation.
“We’re going to take my car to the high school, so Cassie can see the football field.”
Cassie concluded Jack had asked questions because Katie launched into a detailed explanation.
“…It’s only a few miles from here.” Katie nodded several times. “I should be home by four or four-thirty at the latest. I’ll call you when I leave.” Katie hung up and sighed.
“See?” Cassie pointed at the phone. “Asshole!”
Katie snorted. “My friends Donette and Renae used to call men assholes too.”
“Who?”
“Friends of mine, back in Atlanta. We worked at a restaurant together. According to them, all men were assholes--asshats if they tried to cop a feel as we went by.” Katie laughed at the memory, distancing herself from Cassie’s earlier comments.
Cassie didn't so much as snicker. In fact, her eyebrows were pasted as high on her forehead as they could possibly go. “I wasn’t calling all men assholes. Just Jack.”
Katie shook her head, ready to deny.
“Oh, come on, Katie.” Cassie sighed in exasperation, finally fed up with the pretense. “I may be paralyzed, but that doesn’t mean I’m deaf, dumb, and blind. You come in here with bruises you can’t explain or some stupid story about how they got there.”
Katie’s eyes grew large.
Seeing the look, Cassie continued, “You try to cover them with makeup or loose clothing, but I’ve seen them.” Cassie ticked off more examples, “You’re not allowed to carry cash, he calls all the damn time, and now you’re telling me he checks the mileage on your frickin’ car. I’d have to be an idiot not to put two and two together.”
Katie slumped on Cassie’s bed. “You’re right. It’s a hot mess.”
Cassie wheeled closer to the bed, not caring about the high school field trip anymore. She gripped Katie’s hands. “Wanna tell me about it?”
Katie spent the next hour, emptying herself of all the secrets she carried.
Chapter 12
“I grew up in the heart of Atlanta. We lived in a run-down apartment building, in an area where crime was rampant.” Katie made eye contact with Cassie. “Picture muggings, drugs, prostitution. Both my parents are long gone--victims of alcohol, heart problems, and self-centered choices. I’ve got no brothers or sisters. No family at all except for my Aunt Susan.
“She’d show up on Saturdays, knowing Mom and Dad would be hungover. She’d pull up in front of our building in her big 1979 Crown Victoria and honk twice. I’d rush out the door as fast as I could fly. She started each day with a joke. Usually, a bad one.”
Cassie’s eyebrows went up. “Ah, so that’s where you get it?”
Katie flashed a grin. “Probably. Anyway, she took me on field trips and introduced me to the city library. I loved that building. The only limit was my imagination and how many books I could carry.” Katie showed an imaginary stack of books by holding one hand up to her chin and her other hand down by her belly.
Cassie grinned. “I used to do the same thing. Did you go to school? Sorry.” She flinched. “None of my business. I’ve read about kids in the city and how they’re not even in the system.”
“Oh, I was in the system. Trust me. It meant Mom and Dad got a little more out of the state each month.”
“Huh?”
“Welfare.”
Cassie’s mouth formed a perfect O.
“Dad was born with congenital heart disease. He had arrhythmias, shortness of breath, and couldn’t do anything strenuous. He drank and smoked because he couldn
’t work. Mom stayed home supposedly to take care of him. We scraped by on housing allowances, government money, and side jobs they worked for cash.”
Cassie nodded, getting a better picture of Katie’s life.
Katie continued, “But, to answer your question, yes, I went to school, although there was zero help from home. My parents barked out threats, instead.” Katie changed her voice, impersonating her mother’s slurred speech, “Don’t you be gettin’ in no trouble.” Katie cringed, almost feeling her mom’s quick smack.
“God. Is it me or is it hot in here?’ Katie stood and opened a window. She pulled in a few gulps of fresh air, taking in the Morrison’s back yard. The gangly legs of the impatiens were a sickly, transparent green, and the clusters of hydrangeas were browning. Winter was coming. No more Cassie. Long, cold nights with Jack.
Turning away from the window, Katie picked up the thread of her story, “At the end of my junior year, my parents had a vicious, knock-down fight. So bad, in fact, my dad dropped dead of a heart attack on our kitchen floor.”
“Oh, my God!”
“I didn’t realize it until it was too late. I’d come home from school and heard my parents yelling. I slipped into my room to stay out of their way. When the screaming got louder, I hid in my closet.”
At Cassie’s confused look, Katie gave a brief explanation, “It was an old habit—one I learned as a little girl. Anyway, on that day, I heard the heavy thud and my mom’s screams. I stayed in the closet, assuming the fight had escalated. I heard sirens and knew the cops were in our apartment. They’d been there before, so I did nothing. The police found me later.” Katie hung her head. “I stayed in the closet while my dad died. How could I do that, Cassie?”
“You were just a scared kid.” Cassie wheeled close to stroke Katie’s back. “What happened afterward?”
“Money was pretty tight. Mom cried all the time, drank more, and quit taking side jobs. We were in danger of losing the apartment, so I started waitressing at a nearby restaurant. Mom managed to climb out of her funk every other Friday.”
Cassie frowned. “Why?”
“Payday.”
“Oh. Your mom wanted money, right?”
“Exactly. I’d give her grocery money, which was stupid, because she ended up buying a bottle of gin or going to the bar. She cried if she didn’t get any money and accused me of not caring. I just wanted her to be quiet,” Katie flapped her arms, “and go away. I’d give her thirty bucks and never ask where it went. I forged her name on the state checks and paid the bills.”
Katie was talking too fast and forced herself to slow down. “Less than a year later, Mom died too--stepped right out in front of a city bus. She was drunk at the time, so the coroner called it an accident, but I was never so sure.”
“This is a terrible story. Did you go live with your aunt?”
“No. She’s a lot older than my mom and not exactly healthy. She lives in one of those retirement villages, where you start off on your own and move into assisted living.”
“Is she gone?”
“Aunt Susan? God, no,” Katie laughed at the idea.
“Do you still see her? I’d like to meet this lady.”
“Not often. She doesn’t drive anymore, and Jack doesn’t like me to make the trip to Atlanta.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “He probably thinks you’d use the trip to have a wild affair.”
Katie blushed. “You’re not wrong.”
“Asshole,” Cassie muttered and gave a quick shake of her head. “So, how’d you survive?”
“Weeks after my mom died, I found a ten-thousand-dollar life insurance policy, way back in a drawer. The money paid off the bills and funerals—well, cremations, and I stuffed the rest into a savings account. I begged my manager for more hours, and he put me on the catering crew. I was serving at an event when I met Jack.”
“Did you wear a black bowtie?” Cassie jiggled her chest.
“Yep. I must have looked damn good too because Jack followed me with his eyes the whole night. Here’s this good-looking guy…”
Cassie rolled her eyes.
“He is good looking.” Katie pulled out her phone, clicked on a picture, and passed the phone to Cassie.
Cassie glanced at it and handed it back. “He’s still an asshole.”
“Well, at the time, he seemed perfect; handsome, smart, successful. He sent me flowers, drove back and forth from Savannah, and called me four or five times a day.”
Cassie held up a hand. “Five times a day? Wasn’t that creepy?”
“Not at the time. I was barely scraping by. Along comes this guy who promised to make my life better. Pretty naïve, huh?” Katie scoffed. “I grabbed the chance for a new life. It just never occurred to me a new life didn’t necessarily mean a better life.”
Cassie tilted her head, considering the words. “So, how long have you been with Jack?”
“We just celebrated our fourth anniversary.”
“Four years? Jesus, Katie. Why have you stayed so long?”
Katie made eye contact with Cassie. “This mess didn’t happen overnight, Cass. To go along with Jack’s concerns about money, I quit carrying cash. To stay in our phone budget, I made fewer calls home. To keep the peace, I made sure my jobs were close to home. Before I knew what had happened, I was completely dependent. And after the miscarriage, I think I just gave up.”
“Miscarriage?’ Cassie’s eyes grew huge. “You lost a baby?”
Katie hung her head and nodded. “It was a surprise—the pregnancy. I thought it would make things better. It didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I guess Jack wasn’t happy?”
“That would be an understatement.”Katie’s breath caught,
“I’ll never be convinced it was an accident.”
It took Cassie a few seconds to connect the dots. “Jack?”
At Katie’s nod, Cassie’s anger returned and with it resolve. “Do you still have the money from the life insurance?” Cassie asked.
“Yeah. It’s still in an Atlanta bank, with a few branches here in Savannah. Funny,” Katie tilted her head, “I never told Jack.”
“Smart if you ask me. Gut instinct is real. My gut told me not to get in the car with all those kids that day.”
“The day of the accident?”
“Yep. Seven teenagers crammed in a vehicle, speeding, and being stupid. No way that could end well. I didn’t listen to the little voice and look at me now,” Cassie ticked off her injuries, “kidney gone, spleen missing, intestines mangled, liver failing, paralyzed.”
Katie started to sympathize, but Cassie slid her palms together a few times, and abruptly changed the topic, “You should go to one of those battered women’s shelters.”
Katie winced.
“What? That’s what you are.”
“Those places are supposed to be secret, but Jack works in zoning, he knows every property around Savannah.”
“How much money do you have?”
“I’ve got a little over thirty-five hundred.”
“Thirty-five hundred? What the hell are you waiting for, girl? You could get a ticket anywhere!”
“It’s not that easy. I don’t have a credit card, which means no ticket. Plus, I can’t leave information like that behind—too easy to follow. And, if I ever leave, I’m not coming back. Ever. I need a vehicle, a place to stay, expenses.”
“Still, Katie, it seems like enough.”
“It’s not. I’ve thought about it. A lot.”
“We’ll talk about it when you come next week.” Cassie clenched Katie’s hand. “You’re a good woman, Katie. You deserve better.”
Katie lowered her head to Cassie’s. They sat that way awhile; one relishing the idea she had value, the other undone by the fact she still had something to offer.
Chapter 13
As Katie drove to the Morrisons for the next appointment, her jumbled thoughts meshed into a single, desperate word, “Run!” Her adrenaline pumped, and for a seco
nd, she considered it a viable option.
Logic stepped in. I don’t have my money. Jack will know. He’s tracking me, even now. She pulled into the Morrison’s driveway and rested her head against the steering wheel. God, I don’t know what to do anymore.
Katie winced as she slid out of her car and hurried, as best she could, to the Morrison’s front door. They expected her to come and go without knocking, so she poked her head inside. Relieved to find the living room empty, Katie called out a quick greeting. “Hey, ya’ll. It’s me.”
Hearing Bob and Julie’s muffled ‘hellos’ from the kitchen, Katie limped into Cassie’s room. Even now, she felt a little leap of joy to find Cassie still here, still living, intent on her computer screen, as usual.
Grimacing, Katie sat down slowly on Cassie’s hospital bed. “Cass, I need your help.”
“What’s going on?” Cassie turned herself around, concern rippling across her forehead.
Katie lifted her shirt. A long, red welt rose between Katie’s ribs, and angry black bruises spread in all directions.
“Jesus!” Cassie gasped. “What happened?”
“I think I’ve got a broken rib.”
“No shit, maybe more than one.”
“Jack doesn’t want me to go to the hospital, but--"
“Of course not. Doctors would ask questions. Jack can’t be the bad guy, right?”
Katie looked at her shoes.
Cassie shook her head in exasperation. “Never mind. You need help, regardless of what you think.” Cassie pushed her wheelchair toward the door, mouth open, ready to call her parents into the room.
“No! You can’t tell them,” Katie yelled.
“Are you serious? You’re going to protect Jack? He did this, right?”
Katie’s face flushed. “I can’t have a report, Cass. If I go to the police, who knows what will happen.”
“What if your lung’s punctured?” Cassie ran a hand through her thinning cap of brown hair. “What if there’s more damage?”
Katie shrugged, and the simple motion brought tears to her eyes.
There Was a Crooked Man: A Psychological Thriller Page 6