Broken Pieces (19 page)

Chapter 29

I
t was almost ten when Mariah left Clay’s house, and the light of a nearly full moon spilled down as she ran to her car. She got inside, locked the doors, then leaned her head down on the steering wheel, fighting back the tears that had threatened to overwhelm her for the last couple of hours.

She felt like she could throw up and if she did, she knew it would be nothing but the remnants of trauma. Going back to that night and consciously trying to remember every detail had nearly ripped her guts out.

This was the second-hardest thing she’d probably ever do in her life. The first hardest would come in the morning when she had to tell Kelsey the truth about the man who was her father.

Wearily she raised her head and started the engine but remained parked in Clay’s driveway. She felt empty, hollowed out by the scalpel of the past.

Clay had been relentless in his questions of her, probing her memories, demanding answers that were beyond her reach. It had been grueling and disheartening
because she didn’t have anything concrete to give him.

Sherri had surprised her with her compassion. She’d held Mariah’s hand during much of Clay’s interrogation, offering a strength that Mariah had desperately needed. It had been hell, going back there, consciously returning to the scene of the crime that had changed the course of her life and haunted her ever since.

By tomorrow evening everyone in Plains Point would know what had happened to her, what force had driven her away from home sixteen years ago. News traveled fast in a small town. Not only would her friends and neighbors know, but also the man who had raped her would know that she’d finally told.

And if the gossipmongers got it right, he would know that even though she told, he was still safe, that he still remained unidentified. God, if she could just remember one thing to help identify him, a sound, a smell, anything that would point a finger to the guilty.

She finally put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. It was too late to visit Janice in the hospital, but the last place she wanted to be was at the house alone in the dark.

She knew where she wanted to go. She knew where she wanted to be. She ached with the need for Jack’s quiet strength, his steady hand and loving heart. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms and held tight until this nightmare was over. Besides, she owed it to him to be the one to tell him. She didn’t want him to hear the story tomorrow from somebody else.

Would it ever be over?

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she drove toward the animal clinic and the little ranch house of Jack’s. Tomorrow she’d have to rip her daughter’s world apart. Was there anything more painful? She swiped the tears from her eyes in an attempt to clear her vision.

If she’d seen this coming sixteen years ago, would she have told the lies she had to her daughter? She honestly didn’t know. Even though she hadn’t been able to give Kelsey an actual, living and loving father, she’d wanted to give her daughter the illusion of such a man.

Had that been so wrong?

It didn’t matter what she thought; it was more important what Kelsey would think and that’s what she feared most of all. She and Kelsey had always had an open and honest relationship. What would her daughter think of her when she found out about all the lies?

By the time she got to Jack’s, she was crying once again, the tears coming from a place so deep inside her she had no control.

Thank God illumination spilled out his front window, letting her know he was still awake. She turned off her car lights and shut off the engine, her hands clasping and unclasping the steering wheel. What would he think when she told him? How would he react?

He must have heard her car, for his front door opened and he stood silhouetted against the living room lights. Just the sight of him, so tall, so broad-shouldered, calmed her a bit.

He stepped out on the porch. “Mariah?”

The sound of his familiar deep voice brought a new burst of tears to her eyes. She got out of the car, took two faltering steps and then ran to him as a deep sob wrenched from her.

He asked no questions. He merely opened his arms to her and wrapped her up. There was welcome warmth and a sense of safety. He held her there on the porch as she wept.

She didn’t know how long they remained that way, with the warm night air embracing them and his strong arms warming her as nothing else had done for the past twenty-four hours.

Finally her tears slowed and he led her inside the house, where a small schnauzer growled at her. “Rover, no,” Jack said as he led her to the sofa.

She sank down with him and he captured her face between the palms of his hands, those green eyes of his filled with concern. “Is it Janice?” he asked.

“No, no. It’s me.” She’d thought the tears were gone, but they came again, spilling down her cheeks. “I … I was raped.”

Every muscle in his body tensed and in an instant his green eyes turned black. “We need to call Clay.” He was half off the sofa before she stopped him.

“No! Jack, wait. I just came from Clay’s house. It happened—I was raped sixteen years ago.”

He stared at her and slowly sank back down beside her. The lean angles of his face remained taut with tension. “Tell me what’s going on, Mariah.”

And she did. She told him in detail about the night of the rape, going over the same things she’d just told Clay. He didn’t interrupt her and spoke only with his changing facial expressions. Anger, grief, compassion—they were all there on his handsome
face as she spilled her secret of the past. When she was finished, she felt depleted, emptied of every emotion and every ounce of energy.

“What happened afterward?” he asked as he took one of her hands in his. She had come to love the feel of his hands with their square clean fingernails and strong grasp. “Was that the night you ran away?”

“No, not that night. Afterward I crept back into my bedroom window. I was bleeding and scared and didn’t know what to do. I finally called to my mother and told her what had happened.” She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the utter betrayal, the pain that had hurt almost more than anything else that had happened that night.

“She blamed me, told me I got what I deserved because I was bad and had sneaked out of the house. Bad things happen to bad girls. She asked me if she should wake up my father or if I just wanted to get into bed, where I belonged. I took a shower and got into bed.”

She’d thought there was no more emotion left inside her, but she’d been wrong. She’d never needed her mother’s love more than she had that night with terror shaking her insides and blood on her thighs. But her mother had offered her nothing but another beating by her father.

A shudder raced through her. “The next morning I went to school, like nothing had happened, like it had all just been a bad dream.” Jack’s hand tightened around hers and she continued. “I barely remember those days after. I was like in a daze, moving like I was in a play. I laughed and did my homework and ate lunch, but nothing seemed real. Then almost a
month later I missed my period and realized I was pregnant. That’s when I left. That’s when I ran.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

She shook her head. “The only person who knew the truth was Janice. I told her right before Kelsey was born.”

He pulled her into his arms and she went willingly. As he held her, she told him about Clay’s suspicions concerning the runaways and the fact that it had been Mariah’s rapist who had attacked Janice.

“Clay thinks maybe those runaway girls didn’t run away at all, that it’s possible they were victims of this man, that he killed them and hid their bodies. He intended to beat Janice to death. He’s escalated over the years. He’s not content with raping anymore.”

“And Clay has no idea who it might be? You don’t remember anything about that night that could help him catch this madman?”

She sat up and shook her head. “I have nightmares and sometimes when I first wake up from one, I think I know something that’s important, something that could help identify him, but before it gets fully formed in my head, before I can really grab on to it, it’s gone.” Even now a deep frustration edged through her. If she could just remember exactly what it was, what small detail haunted her.

“So what’s Clay doing about all this?”

She sank back into his arms. “He has a friend, a cop from Kansas City, coming into town in the morning to look over the files of the missing women and see if Clay needs to call in some help.”

“What kind of help can he get?” Jack asked. “I mean, he doesn’t have crime scenes. He doesn’t even
know if any crimes took place as far as these missing women are concerned.”

“I know.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “If I could just remember what it is in my dreams.”

He stroked a hand down her back and she wanted to remain in his strong arms forever. At this moment she felt more safe than she’d ever felt in her life.

She didn’t want to face the morning when she’d rip apart Kelsey’s world. She didn’t want to face the time when Janice was able to leave the hospital, because she knew when that time came, they’d all be leaving here.

She’d done what she needed to do. She’d told her secret. And as much as she’d love to stay here in Plains Point, she couldn’t remain as long as a killer walked the streets, a killer she somehow knew would eventually come looking for her again.

Jack lay in the bed next to Mariah, the moonlight spilling in to bathe her face as she slept. There had been no question of her going home. She’d been emotionally and physically exhausted by the time they’d finished talking.

As they’d gotten into bed, he’d told her about Rebecca’s visit, hoping that a little bit of good news before she closed her eyes to sleep might help to relax her.

Now, as he listened to the soft, steady sound of her breathing, he thought that Rover should be biting his ass big-time. He’d believed he’d fallen in love with a woman who had no secrets, no issues. What a laugh.

If he was smart, he’d cut his losses and run, put her back in the category of a teenage fantasy and
leave it at that. But he’d never been particularly smart when it came to matters of the heart.

And his heart was so involved with Mariah it ached. His love for her was almost painful as he thought of all that she’d been through, all that she’d survived.

She’d been asleep for only an hour when he realized she was having a dream. It began with a small moan and a thrashing of her legs beneath the sheets. In the moonlight he could see her features, no longer relaxed in sleep, but a frown wrinkling her forehead as her breathing came in short, quick gasps.

He wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to wake her, but also didn’t want her to suffer a nightmare. It wasn’t until a scream released itself from her that he pulled her tight into his arms and whispered her name over and over again until she awoke with a jerk.

Immediately she began to cry and he held her tight as she told him her dream, of hands pressing into her upper arms, of the plastic bag making her feel as if she was suffocating and the thick bulk of her attacker’s body pressing her deep into the ground beneath her.

“I’m sorry,” she finally managed to say. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Shh, it’s all right. Are you okay?” She nodded and relaxed in his arms. He looked into her tear-stained face and love for her swelled his chest, making it difficult for him to draw a deep breath.

“Mariah, I love you.” The words slipped out of him before he knew he was going to say them. He knew the timing sucked. He’d wanted to tell her with
flowers and candy. He’d hoped to tell her with candlelight and wine.

She rose up and looked at him, her blue eyes filled with a new kind of pain. “I love you, too, Jack,” she whispered.

Her words should have filled him with incredible joy, but the expression on her face when she said them broke his heart. “But I’m not staying here. As soon as Janice is capable, we’re leaving here and we’ll never be back again.”

She placed a slender hand on his chest, where his heart beat like a galloping horse. “This has been a fantasy for both of us. You got a second chance with your high school crush and I got my first taste of real love, but that’s all it was supposed to be. I don’t belong here and you do. Tomorrow my whole world is going to explode apart and the last thing that’s going to be on my mind is building a relationship with anyone other than my daughter.”

Each and every word pierced his heart in a way he hadn’t thought possible. “Chicago isn’t that far away,” he said, unwilling to give up all hope.

“It’s a lifetime away,” she replied, and in those words his last piece of hope slipped away. “But we do have the rest of tonight,” she said, and leaned forward to kiss him.

Even knowing that making love to her again would only deepen the inevitable pain of losing her, he was helpless to stop it.

There was a touch of frantic urgency in their love-making because they both knew this was really good-bye.

Chapter 30

“I
don’t want to talk to you anymore!” Kelsey screamed, her tearstained face twisted with anger, with a pain that tore Mariah’s heart. “You lied to me about everything. You’re nothing but a big liar and you’ve totally ruined my life.”

“Kelsey.” Mariah tried to take hold of her daughter’s arm, but Kelsey jerked it away from her. “Can’t we just talk about this?”

“We’ve talked. I don’t want to hear anything else you have to say.” Kelsey whirled around and raced up the stairs, then slammed her bedroom door.

Mariah stood in the living room and stared after her. It had gone even worse than she’d expected. The minute Kelsey had come home from Katie’s, Mariah had undertaken the difficult task of telling her the truth.

She wanted to run up the stairs and into her daughter’s room. She needed to make it right, but she didn’t know any words that would make it right.

Maybe if she gave Kelsey a little time, she’d calm down and the hatred that had shone from her eyes as
she’d screamed at Mariah would disappear. Mariah desperately hoped that was the case.

She went into the kitchen and sank down at the table. She stared out the window where the bright sunshine felt like a personal affront. It should be gray and cloudy. It should be raining buckets when your life fell apart.

She’d spoken with Janice that morning but hadn’t mentioned that she was finally going to tell Kelsey the truth. She wanted Janice to focus on recovering and though Mariah longed to have her friend to confide in, she also needed to give Janice her strength, not her burden, right now. Soon Janice would be well enough that they could all go home to Chicago and put Plains Point and its horrors behind them.

She’d also called a real estate agent that morning. Wilburta Moore from the Plains Point Realty was coming over at four to take a look at the house. That was still two hours away. Two hours of silence with a daughter whose heart was broken just up the stairs.

She stared over at the phone. Jack had called twice, leaving messages that she hadn’t returned. Although she’d love to talk to him now, to hear his voice, to tell him about the aftermath of her conversation with Kelsey, she wouldn’t call him. She’d told him goodbye last night when they’d made love and again this morning when she’d driven away from his house.

There was no way she could just sit here with Kelsey upstairs and alone. She got up from the table and climbed the stairs, the fourth and fifth rungs creaking beneath her weight. She walked to Kelsey’s closed bedroom door and paused. Leave her alone
or try to make her understand? Give her space or smother her with love?

Smother, she decided, and knocked on the door. She didn’t wait for Kelsey to invite her in but rather pushed open the door to see her daughter lying on the bed, her face burrowed in her pillow as Tiny sat by her side.

Mariah picked up the dog and placed him on the floor, then sat on the edge of the bed. She wanted to pull Kelsey into her arms, to hold tight until the world righted itself for her daughter, but she didn’t. She knew by the tenseness of Kelsey’s body that she wouldn’t welcome any touch at this moment.

“Maybe it was wrong,” Mariah said softly. “Perhaps it was wrong of me to make up the story of a wonderful loving father for you. But I wanted you to have that—I needed you to have what I never had, the love of a father. I wanted that legacy for you instead of the truth.”

Kelsey rolled over on her back and looked at Mariah. “Why didn’t you just have an abortion?”

Mariah straightened her back and looked at her daughter in surprise. “That never entered my mind. The moment I realized I was pregnant, I loved you. And the decision I made to keep the truth from you was made from love.” She fought the impulse just to touch Kelsey, to make a physical connection with the child of her heart. “It was always easy for me to separate the act that conceived you and you.”

Kelsey raised her hands to her eyes and began to cry. “Just let me be alone for a while, okay? I need to be alone and think.”

Mariah leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I’ll give you as much time as you need, but know
this. There has never been a day that went by that I haven’t thanked God for you. When I look at you, all I see is the baby I wanted, the child I adored and the young woman I love with all my heart.”

She got up from the bed, knowing there was nothing more she could say. She’d just have to hope that her years of parenting, her years of loving Kelsey would be enough.

As she went back down the stairs, her thoughts turned to Jack. Telling him good-bye that morning had been difficult. For the first time in her life she’d realized what love was supposed to be, how it could be, and she was leaving it behind.

She told herself it hadn’t been real, that Jack had simply been playing a game of make-believe, fulfilling an old fantasy from his high school days. She was actually doing him a favor by getting out of town, out of his life. Eventually Jack would have discovered she was just a woman, not a fantasy.

Wilburta Moore was punctual. At precisely four o’clock she knocked on the door and introduced herself to Mariah. “I was so pleased when I drove up and saw all the exterior work that’s been done. The place looks beautiful.”

“Thank you. Please come in.” Mariah led her through the living room, where Wilburta praised the beautiful wood flooring, and as they entered the kitchen, she crowed about the warmth and welcome the room contained.

Mariah showed her the entire house except for Kelsey’s room, where the door remained closed, and Mariah said her daughter wasn’t feeling well.

“I shouldn’t have any problems selling the property,” Wilburta said as Mariah walked her to the
front door. “It’s a lovely house and will make a nice home for some family. I’ll call you tomorrow when I have a contract ready for you to sign that will give me the power to show it while you’re out of town.”

“That will be fine,” Mariah said. As she watched the woman get into her car and drive away, she leaned against the porch railing and looked out at the trees in the distance.

If what Clay believed was true, that there may have been more victims who just hadn’t been found, then at least she knew it hadn’t been personal. It was possible she’d been followed home that night from the gazebo. It was probable that somebody saw her alone and vulnerable, making her an easy target.

How many other easy targets had there been over the years in a place where people still felt the illusion of small-town safety?

Maybe Clay’s dark fear would result in nothing. Maybe all those women did run away, leave town to seek something better than what their parents had built here.

She went back into the house, carefully locking the door behind her. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking up, hoping to see Kelsey coming down for dinner.

She fixed herself a salad, knowing that eventually Kelsey would come downstairs, to feed Tiny if nothing else. She’d just finished picking at her dinner when a knock sounded on the front door.

Maybe Wilburta had forgotten something, or maybe it was Jack coming to check on her even though she’d told him that morning that she’d be fine.

A peek outside the window showed her that it was
neither of those two people. Marianne Francis stood on the porch. You were supposed to call her to have lunch, a little voice whispered in Mariah’s head as she opened the door.

“Marianne, come on in.”

“Hi, Mariah. I’m sorry to bother you. Is this a bad time?”

A bad time? Mariah wanted to laugh. In the past twenty-four hours she’d made the decision to walk away from love, reported a heinous crime and ripped apart her daughter’s sense of security and truth. A bad time? Yeah, right.

“Please, come in. I just finished up eating a little dinner. I’m sorry I haven’t called you about lunch, but things have been crazy.” She led the way to the kitchen.

“I was sorry to hear about your friend.”

Mariah gestured to a chair at the table and Marianne sat. “Thanks. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thanks, I’m fine.” But she didn’t look fine. She clasped her hands together in her lap, but not before Mariah saw the tremble of her fingers.

“Did you notice the paint job when you drove up?” Mariah asked. “Your husband and his team did a great job.”

“Yes, it looks really nice.” Marianne looked out the window and Mariah saw that her hands were clasped so tightly she was white-knuckled.

“Marianne? Is something wrong?”

Marianne looked at her, her hazel eyes wide. “I heard something today about you.”

So it was out. She knew Clay wouldn’t be able to
keep it to himself forever. At least he’d given her enough time to tell Jack and Kelsey before the rest of the town knew what had happened to her.

“Yeah, I figured it would be the talk of the town at some point today,” she replied.

“So it’s true?” Marianne’s gaze held hers intently. “You were raped?

Mariah nodded.

“Where did it happen?”

Mariah got up and went to the kitchen cabinet beneath the sink. “You sure you don’t want something to drink?” She pulled out a bottle of Scotch. “My father kept this for medicinal purposes. I’m not much of a drinker, but I suddenly feel like having a little medicine.”

Marianne shook her head. “No, thanks.”

Mariah got a glass and filled it with ice, then splashed a healthy shot of the booze on top. “It happened outside this house, in that grove of trees down by the street.”

She returned to the chair next to Marianne and took a sip of the biting liquor, relishing the warmth that stole down her throat and into her stomach. “I was coming home from town. I’d sneaked out and met Clay. I was standing outside waiting for the light in my father’s study to go off when he came up behind me, pulled a bag over my head and threw me to the ground.”

As she told her story once again, she realized it was getting easier with each telling, as if shining a light on a secret made the memory not quite as painful.

When she was finished, Marianne unclasped her
hands and leaned forward. “That’s why you ran away? Because you’d been raped?”

“I ran away to protect the baby I was carrying. I wanted to make sure the man who raped me never had a claim to her and I sure as hell didn’t want my parents having any part of her upbringing.”

Marianne’s eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t know Kelsey … I mean everyone I talked to thinks you ran the night of the rape and that Kelsey is the daughter of the man you married after you left here.”

So Clay and Sherri weren’t telling everything they knew, Mariah thought. They obviously were attempting to protect Kelsey and for that, Mariah would forever be grateful, but Mariah was finished indulging in lies.

“Kelsey’s the daughter of whoever raped me that night.” And right now she’s up in her room hating me for the life I created for her, she thought.

Marianne’s lower lip trembled and she raced a hand through her short, pixie-cut hair. “How do you live with it?”

Marianne was always home before dark. Roger had said his wife thought there was a boogeyman in every shadow. It was at that moment Mariah knew. Marianne was a victim, too.

She reached out and grabbed Marianne’s icy-cold hand. “When did it happen? When did he rape you?”

Tears spilled down Marianne’s cheeks as she squeezed Mariah’s hand with a death grip. “It was a year after we graduated from high school. Roger and I had been at the café and time got away from us and he had to get the car home.” She frowned. “I
don’t remember why—maybe his dad needed it for something. Anyway, I insisted he drive on home, that I could walk the two blocks to my house. I was halfway home when I heard something behind me. But before I could turn around, a bag went over my head and he threw me off the sidewalk and on the ground.”

She pulled her hand from Mariah’s and leaned back against the chair, her gaze going to the window as if she was checking the position of the sun in the sky.

“Did he say anything to you?” Mariah asked.

Marianne swiped the tears from her face and looked at Mariah once again. “He said something about taking a piece of me or something like that.”

It was the same man, Mariah thought in horror. “Did you report it?” It would have been at a time before Clay became sheriff.

“No.” The word whispered out of her as tears once again formed. “I was so scared and so ashamed and there was nothing I could tell anyone about who did it.”

Even though it was crazy and Mariah knew that the feeling of shame was totally irrational, she understood. Long after her rape she’d done some research and had learned that sexual assault was one of the most underreported of crimes. More than half went unreported. It was a dirty, ugly secret that festered inside victims.

“Have you told Roger?” Mariah asked.

Marianne’s eyes widened. “No, and I don’t want him to know.”

“He’s your husband. He loves you and could be a huge support,” Mariah replied, remembering Jack’s tenderness, his caring, when she’d told him.

Marianne stared down at the surface of the oak table and her hands found each other and once again clasped tightly. “I heard that Clay thinks there might be other victims, and Roger, he’s out a lot. At night. I’m not sure where he goes or what he does.” The words came haltingly, as if dredged from the darkest place in her soul.

“He brought me flowers the next morning. I’d forgotten about that until today. He said they were because I had to walk home the night before.”

“Don’t do this, Marianne,” Mariah said. “Don’t make yourself crazy. Roger is your husband. He’s a good man.”

Marianne offered a weak smile. “I guess every wife in Plains Point is going to wonder about the man lying next to them in bed tonight.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ve got to get home.”

Mariah didn’t have to ask her why. Even though it was a good hour before sunset, she knew Marianne’s need to get home, where she believed she would be safe. She walked with her to the front door and there Marianne paused. “I can’t even take out the garbage. Since that night, I can’t touch one of those plastic trash bags.”

“I’m sorry,” Mariah replied, unsure what else to say.