Taking Connor (27 page)

Jim turns, and Lexi and I stand. “We can get him out by this afternoon. Are you sure you want to do this, Demi?”

I don’t respond directly to his question. It’s a dumb question, and he already knows the answer. “They have all my information. They just need a number, Jim.”

He nods once. “I’ll call you when you’re able to pick him up.”

I nod in return and Lexi tugs my hand leading me out of the courtroom. “Holy shit,” she breathes as we enter the hallway heading toward the exit. “What the fuck happened, Demi?”

“Mr. Jenson was murdered, and Mrs. Jenson says Connor did it.” I had stated this in the voicemails I left her last night, but apparently she needs a reminder.

Lexi shakes her head, before looking at me, her expression already soft—apologetic. “Do you think . . .” She can’t even finish her question because I’m already glaring daggers at her for even asking the question.

“Clearly, I do, Lex,” I snap. “I mean, I just anted up twenty-five thousand dollars and risking losing two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars for a man I think is guilty.”

“Okay, okay.” She releases a deep breath. “How are the girls?”

Lexi is hitting all of the really sore subjects this morning and, therefore, receiving the blunt end of my shitty mood. “Good question,” I retort. “I called Wendy last night and twice this morning—no answer.”

I’ve opted to give Wendy a few days, but she
will
be speaking to me come hell or high water. I want to know what the girls know. I want to know what happened.

“Shit,” Lexi sighs.

We’re out the doors of the courthouse and halfway down the steps when I hear, “Demi!” Turning, I find Roxy in her biker babe gorgeousness, gorgeous blonde hair down her back, long legs only accentuated by three-inch heels and a tight-fitting top.

“Who the fu—” Lexi begins before I interrupt her.

“Roxy,” I say, surprised.

“Did they deny him bail?” she asks, skipping any formal greeting.

“No,” I answer. “He should be out by this afternoon.”

She sighs with relief, her hand moving to her stomach as if it just unfurled itself, and she’s found relief. “Thank goodness. Ever since he called me last night I’ve been a nervous wreck.”

The blood drains from my face. Connor used his one phone call to call Roxy?

To call Roxy.

Not me.

Roxy.

I stare at her blankly, unable to process her words. Why wouldn’t he call me?

There are few times my sister’s big mouth and verbal vomit have ever benefitted me, but when Lexi asks, “Are you guys a couple?” I could kiss her. It’s the million dollar question. Enquiring minds want to know—well my enquiring mind wants to know anyway.

Roxy smirks and looks genuinely shocked. “Oh no, honey.” Then she looks at me and her brows furrow, her expression softening, “You thought Connor and me . . .”

“At one time . . . I assumed,” I choke out, maintaining a calm demeanor. “You stay over a bit . . . I don’t know. It’s not really my business.” Is it? Connor said they were only friends.

Roxy blinks a few times. “Had you never heard of me before we met in your driveway that night?”

I furrow my brows in confusion. “No. Should I have?”

Roxy closes her eyes, and her shoulders fall as she exhales. “Oh, Blake,” she breathes as if he can hear her.

My eyes widen, unsure if the name that just fell from her lips was that of my deceased husbands. Did I hear that right?

“Did you just say, Blake?” Lexi asks, her voice rising an octave.

Roxy opens her eyes and bites her lip, an expression of . . . guilt maybe? “Could we go somewhere else and have a cup of coffee? There are some things you should know. Things about Blake and Connor.”

My stomach is in a million tiny knots, but I nod, and we walk across the street to a small café. Walking between Roxy and Lexi, I realize how terrible I look. They’re in heels and sexy clothes—granted Lexi doesn’t look as fresh as Roxy, but she’s doing better than me. I look like I’ve been wearing the same clothes for days. As we walk, Roxy begins explaining.

“I hate that I’m the one to tell you these things Demi. Blake said he would . . . one day. But I guess he ran out of days.”

Lexi looks at me and opens her mouth, but I shake my head. I don’t want Lexi flipping out on Roxy because then I might never know what Roxy knows. And right now, I desperately need to know what Roxy knows.

“Were you and Blake . . .” I can’t even say it. Lovers? Were they? God, Blake, how could you?

“No, no, no,” Roxy says, adamantly. “Blake loved you. He’d never have cheated on you.”

“Thanks for telling us who Blake is,” Lexi snaps.

“Lex,” I warn.

Roxy, undeterred by Lexi’s attitude continues. “I met Blake in a group for sexual abuse victims.” I don’t even get a chance to absorb her words as we arrive at the café and she opens the door, walking in. Lexi and I stand outside for a moment, speechless. This is a first for her. My sister is rarely at a loss for words. After a moment, I follow Roxy inside, figuring if I want to feel any less confused I better go in and listen to what she has to say. We’re seated, upon Roxy’s request, at a table in the back where it’s more private. We all order coffee and no one speaks a word until our server has delivered our beverages and left.

“In a group for the sexually abused?” I begin, quietly, leaning in. “That makes no sense . . . Blake wasn’t a victim of sexual abuse.”

Roxy’s eyes immediately move down to her mug in front of her. “That you know of,” she says, quietly.

“So you’re telling me that you . . . YOU,” Lexi points in emphasis, “know more about Blake than his wife did?” It’s not hard to hear the anger in Lexi’s voice.

“No,” Roxy says, firmly, looking Lexi square in the eyes. “But I do know this one thing about him that apparently Demi doesn’t.”

“So when was he abused?” Lexi continues, attitude still full throttle.

“When he was eleven. After his second open-heart surgery. It was a man his aunt, Connor’s mother, had been dating.”

My heart squeezes. I know Blake and Connor’s childhood was rough. While they lived with their grandmother who was very loving and nurturing, she was a bit of an enabler. Blake and Connor’s mothers, one a drunk, the other a drug addict, would both return home, and their mother would always let them even though she knew at some point they wouldn’t stay sober, and they’d run off without a word leaving their son’s behind. When they were there, Blake had mentioned there were men in and out of the house constantly, but he never mentioned any of them harming him in any way.

“He was still recovering at home . . . still on pain meds. Guy named Richard Malone,” she pauses and looks at me as if waiting for me to say or show some recognition of the name, but the name means nothing to me.

“Do you know anything about who Connor killed and why?”

I flick an embarrassed glance at Lexi. I should know this. I should know all of this. Blake was my husband, and this woman knows his deepest and darkest secret, not me—his wife. So not only have I been in the dark about my husband, she knows more about Connor, who I’m in love with and who lives with me, too.

“No.” It’s a simple answer, however ridiculous it is.

“Connor caught Malone . . .” her eyes drop to her hands wrapped around her coffee mug, “in the act.”

I can’t even swallow down the knot in my throat it’s so big. The tears won’t stop either. My poor, beautiful husband. Is this really true? How could he have never told me? How could he tell Roxy and not me?

“Connor was fifteen at the time. He fought with the guy, but Malone ran out. The guys didn’t tell anyone.”

“Why?”

Roxy looks at me, pity rich in her gaze and a little part of me hates her for it. She feels sorry for me because I don’t understand. “You’ll have to ask Connor that.”

“So this Malone never went to prison?”

“That’s who Connor killed.”

I’m devastated by this news, these dark revelations. But a new found pride and admiration grows inside of me for Connor and maybe it’s wrong to feel that way, to be proud of him for punishing this man that stole something so precious from a child, but I am. And I’m not one damn bit sorry for it.

“So you met Blake through this group?” Lexi asks after a long pause, where clearly no one knew what to say. I’m in shock, and I think Roxy has now decided to watch what she does or doesn’t say.

“Thirteen years ago,” Roxy explains. “Prom night,” she snorts, disdain tinting the sound. “I thought I was hot shit because the quarterback asked me out. Wasn’t so hot when he and two other players raped me.”

How does one respond to this? Saying sorry doesn’t seem like enough. I’d hug her if I could reach her from across the table. But Roxy doesn’t wait for me to respond.

“I never told anyone except my best friend, Miranda. For years, I walked around not wanting to look pretty. I wore sweats and got a job as a day shift waitress. One night, I don’t know why, Miranda picked me up telling me we were going to a movie. We ended up at the support group. She told me she was tired of watching me hide from my life. I was against it, but after she had refused to drive me home unless I went in, so I gave up.” She pauses and sips her coffee. “Listening to other people’s stories, what they went through, made me feel not so alone. I noticed Blake, even though he always led the group, never spoke. He never told his story. After a meeting one night, he asked me to stay and asked why I hadn’t told my story. I told him I wasn’t ready to share it with the group yet. I just wasn’t.

“What if you shared it with me? Right now?”
he’d asked.

“If you share yours first,”
I’d responded.

“That night we stayed two hours late, and he shared his horrible experience, then I shared mine,” Roxy states. “That night, your husband saved my life.”

Lexi finds my hand under the table and squeezes my leg. I find pride in Blake, helping this woman, but there’s hurt there, too. Why was it he could share this with her, but not me, his wife?

“The last time he saw me,” Roxy says, quietly, “he gave me Connor’s information and told me to write him. He said Connor needed as many friends as he could get, and I was a good friend.” She smiles as her gaze glosses over. “I came to the funeral, but having never met you I knew it wasn’t a good time to introduce myself. There were so many people there, you probably didn’t notice me.”

She’s right. I didn’t, which I find odd because Roxy is the kind of woman that stands out in a room. She’s too beautiful not to be recognized. But I was an emotional wreck, and I guess she slipped under my radar.

“I know . . .” she hesitates. “I know you may feel hurt that Blake didn’t share this with you. Rape and molestation are hard, and there’s a shame that buries itself inside of you. It never really leaves,” she explains with a sigh as she wipes under her eyes. “You feel . . . dirty, tainted. Unworthy. Of course, I know feeling those things are ridiculous. I’m not those things, but I still feel it, and I have to fight that negative thinking on a daily basis. I think Blake liked that you saw the good. Maybe your love fought all of those feelings inside of him. Maybe he was afraid if he told you it would somehow change or dim that. All I know is, Demi,” she pauses with a smile, “he loved you so much. I remember when he told me he’d been on a date with this amazing girl. You made him very happy.”

Lexi squeezes my leg under the table again, and when I look at her, she smiles sadly. I have no idea what to say or how to feel about these revelations. I need time to process it all. And quite a few questions are swirling through my mind, but frankly, Roxy can’t answer them. They’re all questions for Blake. And Blake can’t answer them either.

“What did Connor tell you when he called you last night?” I ask, deciding to focus on the here and now. I’ll think about my late husband’s secrets later. Right now, Connor needs my help, even if he doesn’t want it.

“We were supposed to meet. He called to tell me he couldn’t make it. When I asked why, he said he’d been arrested. Then he hung up.”

It’s so sad that it makes me feel a little better that he cut her off too. I know how pathetic I am for feeling that way. “So how’d you find out about the bail hearing?”

“A friend of mine works admin for the Sheriff’s department. I called her, and she got me the details. I came by your house first, but you weren’t home.”

“And you told Jim Burgess about the support group?”

“Yes,” she admits, with a nod. “I don’t think Connor would have wanted anyone to know, but I thought it might help. I decided to wait outside because I didn’t want to see him mad at me. Does the lawyer think he can get him off of these charges?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “He won’t tell me what Connor is saying.”

Reaching across the table, Roxy takes my hand and squeezes. “If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know. Connor is a great man. If he did do it,” she pauses and shakes her head, “there was a good reason for it. I know it.”

Lexi tosses a twenty on the table and slides out of the booth. “We need to go Demi,” she says. “You need a shower, and we need to be ready when Jim calls and says Connor is being released.”

Looking to Roxy, who is still holding my hand, I say, “Thank you for telling me . . . everything.”

“I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you,” she replies. “I hope you won’t be mad at Blake. Shame makes us do stupid things sometimes.”

I nod once. I’m not sure how to feel about Blake’s secret. Maybe I’m feeling too many other things to focus on it right now. All I know is, Connor needs my help, and he’s getting it whether he wants it or not.