Ten Times Guilty (32 page)

But no, it actually began years ago, when she had been so intimidated by someone that she had stopped thinking for herself. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. She supposed it was.

Carrie popped in to say hello, her silver bracelets jangling. “Hey, glad to see you,” she said. “You coming back to work?”

“I hope so.”

“Shouldn’t be any problem. I’ll give you another reading.”

“Thanks,” Tracy said, smiling, “but I’ll make my own future.”

A few minutes later, Mr. Madden returned and took his seat behind the desk. “Sorry about that,” he said smiling and folding his hands on the desk. “Just another one of our minor catastrophes. Now. Are you sure you can handle a job after all that’s happened?”

“I have to,” Tracy told him. “There’s no alternative.”

“But you’ve been through so much. I just think it’s too soon for you to concentrate on work.”

Tracy leaned back in the chair, surprised at how calm she felt. Not too long ago she would have been defensive and all her determination would have crumbled if someone voiced doubts about her ability. Now, she was the best one for the position and she had enough confidence to tell him. That was the difference. It wasn’t the desk, the couch, or the safe. It was her.

“I appreciate your concern, but I can’t sit home any longer. It’s been a while since this all started and I have bills to pay. Rent, plus my son and I have to eat.”

“I admire your determination, but...”

“Mr. Madden, I have to work. That’s it. I’m comfortable with this job and you know I’ll do it correctly. I’m dependable, and I don’t dip my fingers into the till. That counts for a great deal, as you’ve mentioned several times. But if you’re not comfortable with having me here because of what’s happened, I understand. Just say the word and I’ll find something else.”

“No, no, Tracy, everything you’ve said is true. I’ll be glad to have you back. You might even find a little extra in your paycheck.” He rose from his chair to shake her hand. “Welcome, back. I know all the crew will be happy to see you again. When can you start?”

Even though she had felt confident with the interview, Tracy still blinked away sudden tears. She had fought for something and she won.

***

It had been quite a week. Tracy moved back into her small apartment, delighted that it was all hers. After being in the hospital and the safe house, she savored the privacy of her own home.

Reese had stopped by, asking how she was doing. As he stood, clearly ill at ease in the small apartment, she realized she’d lost her fear of him.

After Diana and Greg offered again to help her get a car, Tracy gratefully accepted, and now she was the proud owner of a five-year-old blue Toyota Corolla that needed a paint job. But Greg checked it out and pronounced it dependable. And it was hers. Well, it would be, after she made payments for two years.

***

Reese stopped by the museum. Instead of a suit he wore a navy blue sport coat and white pullover shirt over jeans.

“Hello, Tracy.” He saw dark rings under her eyes that she couldn’t quite hide with make-up. “A little soon to go back to work, isn’t it?”

“I had to.”

He was moved by her simple statement. No whining, no pleas for help from the system. He wished he could walk away and leave her with some peace and security, but there were some things she had to face.

“I’d like to talk to you. It’s important.”

“Sit down.” She indicated the delicate settee behind him, but he was afraid it would buckle under his weight. He looked around for somewhere else to sit and see anything that looked comfortable.

“Look, aren’t you about through for the night?”

She nodded.

“Have you eaten?”

She shook her head.

“I’m starved. How much longer until you can leave?”

She glanced at the big clock over the door. “In about ten minutes.”

“Do you like Chinese?”

“Love it.”

“There’s a good place down the street. Delicious food and plenty of it.”

***

A half hour later, while they were waiting to be served, Tracy looked around.

The restaurant was small, with red vinyl booths along the walls and tables in the middle. Mirrors covered the back wall from the top of the booths to the ceiling, which made the place seem much bigger. The only oriental touches were red dragon wall plaques and twangy music playing over the speakers in each corner of the room. But it was warm and cozy, and she was happy to be there.

She finished her survey. 

“Do you like it?” he asked with amusement.

“Yes, and thank you. This is quite a treat for me.”

“Glad to see you’ve recovered. At least physically.”

“It’s a good start, I’m told.”

He nodded. “How are you doing? Are you getting on with your life?”

“I’m trying.”

He took her hand. “You’re to be commended,” he said. “You’ve been through a lot, but you’ve hung in there and you haven’t given up.”

Listening to him, Tracy felt the sting of tears. Trying not to cry, her gaze fastened on her small hand, enclosed so gently in his. How safe and protected this extraordinary man made her feel. Her fingers curled around his, then let go.

The waitress brought plate after plate of colorful, beautifully arranged food.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I ordered an assortment,” Reese grinned. “If we don’t eat everything, it’s okay. Leftover Chinese is as good as the first time around.”

It was enough to feed a family for a week, Tracy thought. After all her scrimping, she felt sinfully wicked at the extravagance, but she couldn’t wait to dig in.

Reese took a small bread plate and mixed a concoction of the sweet and sour with hot-mustard sauce, then added a dab or two of soy sauce. He dipped his egg roll in it and took a bite. Satisfied, he pushed the plate over to her.

“Karlton Wolfe’s arraignment is scheduled for the twenty-fifth,” he said.

Tracy glanced up sharply.

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to be there,” he told her. “It’s just a formality.”

“But I want to be there.”

“How about if I pick you up?”

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

“I’ve questioned him several times,” Reese said, when they had finished their meal. He picked up a toothpick and bent it in three places.

“And?”

“He’s pretty quiet. He hasn’t admitted to any of the assaults. Actually, he doesn’t have much to say about anything. He’s hard-balling it. It’s a good case, though. The D.A. is convinced there’s enough DNA evidence for a conviction.” The toothpick broke and he reached for another one. “But the evidence proves he’s guilty ten times over. He’s the one who attacked Crissy, so I’m satisfied.” He put the toothpick down. “You know the trial’s going to be rough. They’ve made changes in the system, but no matter how many are made, it’s always rough.”

“I know.”

“Can you handle it?”

“Yes.” She smiled at him, her gaze calm and steady. “I can handle it.”

***

Reese stretched out in his recliner, a coffee cup on the table next to him. He kept thinking about Tracy and how different she’d been tonight. Oh, some things were the same—her modesty, her femininity. Those were qualities he supposed were a part of her. But she was no longer the frightened little girl he’d met in that hospital room. Even her voice was different. She was still soft-spoken with a trace of that charming southern accent, but now she spoke with assurance, her voice strong, as if she no longer had any question about what she wanted to say.

He also thought she viewed the world differently. Her gaze was now steady and confident. Even the way she held herself as she walked was different. He was glad for her. Whatever ghosts had haunted her seemed to have vanished. Or she conquered them.

Maybe there was hope for broken people after all.

Someone knocked on the door. Jesus, he hoped it wasn’t Carly. He didn’t think he could handle that tonight. Maybe he could pretend he wasn’t home.

The knob twisted from side to side.

“Open up, Reese, I know you’re in there. I saw your car.”

Christ, Cooper. He bolted up and opened the door.

“About time,” she said, pushing past him. She stopped in the hallway, uncertain which way to go.

“Living room’s that way,” he gestured.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice hesitant.

Reese was curious. He’d never known her to have difficulty speaking her mind.

“When is that group’s next meeting?” she asked.

“What group?”

“You know, the one you’ve been hounding me about. At the hospital.”

“The Rape Crisis meetings?”

“Well, I certainly don’t mean Weight Watchers!” She eyed him critically. “Although you should certainly think about it.”

Reese grinned. “Ah, Coop, you’re back. In answer to your question, I’m not sure, but I can find out. Why?”

Cooper studied her shoes. “Because I... ah, just might go with you.”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

“Just don’t get any ideas about this.” She stormed past him. At the door she called back, “I’ll just give it a look-see.”

That night Reese couldn’t sleep. Rolling over, he checked the clock by the bed. Three in the morning. Christ. What was keeping him awake? The case was pretty well wrapped up, things were coming together for Tracy, and even Cooper was trying to better her situation. So what the hell was bothering him?

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was that everyone seemed to be getting their act together. Except him.

Was he such a pathetic sonofabitch that he was jealous of everyone? God, he hoped not. Or could it be that his own conscience nagged him? Perhaps it was time for him to take the next step to rejoin the human race.

He padded in his underwear and bare feet to the kitchen, opened the cupboard and took down the bottle of whiskey. He ran his finger over the red seven, then uncapped the brown bottle and inhaled the aroma. Same as always. His mouth watered. He guessed he would always have a hunger for it.

“Good bye, old friend.”

He poured the whiskey down the sink, rinsed the bottle and threw it in the trash.

Chapter Forty-One

Tracy didn’t expect a visitor to the museum at eight-thirty in the evening. The house had emptied about a half hour ago, so she was sitting at the antique desk working on her budget. Even though Mr. Madden had given her as many extra hours as he could, with the addition of car payments, she was still short for her fall tuition.

She wanted to enroll at the university to become a rape counselor. She’d talked to an advisor and had her classes lined up—if she could come up with her share of the tuition. If not, she’d have to work another year and start then. But no matter what it took or how long, she wanted to help other women like Suzy had helped her.

She glanced at the clock. Another ten minutes.

Just then the front door opened and a tall, slim, blonde woman wearing a white long-sleeve blouse tucked into ivory linen trousers appeared. Simple gold earrings and a thick gold chain were her only jewelry.

Smiling, Tracy rose to greet her. “You’re certainly welcome,” she said, “but if you go in now, you’ll miss a lot of the house. You’d be better off to come back tomorrow.”

“I’m not here to see the house,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I’m here to talk to you. You’re Tracy Michaels, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Her voice was cautious.

“I’m Marion Krull from Disclosure Magazine. We’d like to print your story.”

“My story?” Tracy glanced down at the card the woman handed her. “I think you have me mixed up with someone else. I don’t have a story.”

“On the contrary, I think you do. You were brutally attacked, then stalked by that attacker. You faced him down and brought him to justice. That’s quite a story, one that our subscribers would be very interested in reading.”

Tracy was speechless. Such a thing had never occurred to her.

“I’m interested in knowing your thoughts, your feelings, and most important, how this has affected you,” she went on. “Please, just give it some thought. I’ll get back in touch with you in a couple of days. By the way, just in case you’re interested, this magazine pays handsomely for its features.”

***

All night Tracy tossed and turned. Should she give the interview or shouldn’t she? She didn’t want to. Her sense of privacy rebelled against it. And, she didn’t feel the need to express her thoughts to the general public about what had happened. The only people she cared about already knew the story.

But the money. She couldn’t overlook the money. It would be such a blessing that she could almost consider it heaven-sent. It would make up for the time she had lost from work and then some. Most of all, it would get her into school.