“We can talk out here on the porch. I don’t want you in my house.”
Travis rolled outside in his chair and closed the door behind him. I walked to the side, my heart still throbbing in my chest. Seeing him made everything inside of me hurt. His piercing eyes and the way they looked at me took me right back to that day. My body still remembered every detail of it, and especially the feelings that surrounded it. I could still hear him breathing on top of me, his mouth close to my ear, his heavy body weighing me down, hurting me.
“So, what do you want?” he said, folding his hands in his lap.
I swallowed and told myself I could do this. For Emma. For Marissa. “I… I am working a case and I need to ask you a question.”
He scoffed. “What do you need my help for?”
“It’s very… similar to the case we had, you know the one we worked on, together when—”
“When we had sex, and you went to the Chief and said I raped you, oh, I remember that very well.”
I closed my eyes again and focused on breathing. Just breathing. Then I looked at him.
“There’s a girl missing, taken from her home just like it happened back then.”
“Kitty Durham wasn’t taken from her home, you know that. She was on her way to the bus; someone saw her and told us. You gotta get those facts straight if you want to make it as a detective, Wilde.”
“I know there’s a difference. This girl disappeared from her backyard.”
He scoffed again. “So what? Children go missing all the time. What does it have to do with the old case?”
“There’s something else.”
“I’m dying from tension here,” he said sarcastically. “Do tell.”
“The belt.”
He stopped smirking. “What about it?”
“Kitty’s stepdad, Cole Durham, dedicated his life to finding her, and led search groups and started a campaign for donations and everything. And then one day his wife, Kitty’s mother, came home from work and found him dead, a belt wrapped around his neck.”
“He killed himself. He felt guilty.”
“But remember how we suspected that it wasn’t suicide? We thought that maybe he actually found out what happened to Kitty, and he was murdered because of it?”
“That was your little theory,” he said, grinning. “Not mine.”
“No, the medical examiner questioned it too, remember?” I asked. “He said that he wasn’t sure it was suicide. It didn’t fit with the way the marks were on the neck.”
He shook his head. “Not really. You know what? This was—what—like ten years ago?”
“Fourteen,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s ancient history by now. I don’t really want to think about those things anymore, and I think you need to leave it alone. You ruined my life, now go enjoy yours.”
“But no one knew about the belt, but the two of us,” I said. “We were the only ones there. You took the belt off and put it back in his closet, remember? But we asked his wife about it, and she said it wasn’t his. She had never seen it before.”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember all those details anymore. It’s a long time ago.”
“I need to know who else knows about the belt and the buckle. Besides you, me, and Kitty’s mom. I’ve been through the old case files, but you were the head of that investigation—I wasn’t privy to everything that was going on. Someone is either copying this murder, or we’re dealing with the same killer once again after a dormant period of fourteen years.”
He shook his head. “No one knew. Just us. I really don’t think Kitty’s mom, that weak little woman, could kill anyone. So, I guess it’s either you or me.” Then he laughed. The sound of it made my skin crawl. He shook his head. “That’s the best laugh I’ve had in a long time, ever since you ruined my life. Sorry, kiddo, I can’t help you. The man killed himself.”
He leaned forward and signaled for me to lean toward him. I didn’t. I just stared at him. The smell of him alone made me feel sick. His word, his nickname for me. Kiddo.
“Let me ask you something,” he said. “If I really did rape you then why didn’t you scream? Why didn’t you fight back? You learned self-defense. You could have at least tried.”
I stared at him, my heart knocking against my ribcage, hands shaking heavily. I turned around and walked to my car, resisting the urge to run, tears springing to my eyes, unable to breathe.
He was right, I didn’t scream or fight back when he pushed himself on top of me. I didn’t scream because of who he was. He was my boss. He thought he was entitled to it. I was scared. I froze.
And he knew that had haunted me ever since.
FIFTY-THREE
Then
At first, she didn’t think it was anything important. When Kitty felt the small jabs in her stomach, and it became rock hard, and then eased up, she thought it was just part of growing the baby inside of her.
Until she realized it didn’t stop. It came back a little later, same sensation, same degree of pain, maybe slightly more painful this time. And then it stopped, and she could breathe again. Thinking it had stopped, she closed her eyes to relax, but then the sensation returned, only more powerful this time, and she groaned loudly. It came again and again and became rougher to get through, and she screamed in pain for the seconds they lasted.
When it stopped, it was like heaven, like every cell of her body relaxed at once and she became so peaceful.
But then it returned.
Then more came and after that more again. With briefer and briefer intervals. Soon she realized the seriousness of her situation. This had to be it, right? Her baby was coming. And she was all alone in the small shed.
