"Fun!" Tati's jaw sagged. "You said he beat you!"
Kalyna assumed a long-suffering manner. "You don't understand what it was like."
"Explain it to me."
"You wouldn't understand even if I tried. You don't know squat about life or love. So just drop it, okay?" She got up. If her sister was so damn nervous about sitting in the "parlor," they might as wel go. "You've changed," Kalyna said with a frown.
"No, I haven't."
"Yes, you have. You take the joy out of everything."
Tati stiffened. "You'd rather be somewhere else, getting raped?"
"Don't knock it til you've tried it," she muttered. But she didn't want to think about the intimacy she'd shared with Luke. Recalling those special moments made her want to be close to him again, to see him and touch him and smell him. That yearning caused her to wonder how he would've treated her if she hadn't reacted so hastily. Would he have called?
No, she couldn't have risked it. She had to go after what she wanted, just as she'd told Tatiana. "What's there to eat?" she asked. "I'm starving."
Her sister gave her an incredulous look. "Sometimes I don't understand you at all."
Kalyna would've laughed it off, but the noise of a car brought her up short. Her parents were home.
Hearing the engine, Tati fell silent, waiting anxiously. "What are you going to tell them?" she asked at length.
"The truth," Kalyna said, and forced a smile as her mother charged into the house.
"What are you doing here?" Norma demanded.
Kalyna raised her chin. "What, I can't come home?"
Her father entered behind her mother and spoke before Norma could respond. "What'd you do?" he asked.
"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything," Kalyna said.
His labored breathing told Kalyna he'd seen her car and moved faster than normal to get inside the house. "Why'd they kick you out?"
"They didn't kick me out!"
67
"Thank God." Her mother sank into the seat she'd just vacated. "So when are you going back?"
68
A
va stood at the railing of her houseboat, gazing at the sinking sun, which resembled a giant red fireball sitting on the water. Uncontained brushfires--seven hundred of them--raged all over California. They weren't close, but they stil made the air acrid and hazy, which probably explained the unusual color of the sun. Ava had never seen it quite so red before.
We need rain,
she mused. This time of year, Sacramento had little chance of getting any moisture--April through October were dry months--
but at least the gentle delta breezes cooled the area, especially in late evening. She hated how hot it was without them.
A bird swooped low, barely skimming the surface of the water. Ava watched it dip, twirl and pull out of its dive. Jonathan didn't approve of her living accommodations, but she wasn't staying on the houseboat just to please her father. She loved it. She'd never known a more tranquil place than the delta. Only an occasional car navigated the narrow roads that wound through the sloughs and the many single-lane bridges; some islands weren't even accessible by car.
Wind chimes tinkled behind her. It was so quiet she could hear the water lapping at the pontoon. The two other houseboats that often docked there had gone on a fishing excursion together. It could get lonely without them, and the delta could get foggy and gray during the winter. But it wasn't winter now, the others would be back soon and she had her work to keep her busy. She generally toted home a heavy briefcase and put in a few extra hours before bed.
Inside the cabin, she turned on the TV to fil the silence. She hadn't heard from Geoffrey today--not since last weekend. But that didn't matter.
She had another set of phone records to scour on the Georgette Beeker case, some computer searches to perform on Wil ie Sims and she needed to make a few calls on Kalyna Harter, beginning with Kalyna's parents.
Jonathan had provided their phone number. Ava could've asked Kalyna for it, but she wasn't ready to inform her client that she had some misgivings 69
about her veracity. Letting Kalyna know might change what she'd hear from the people closest to her. Besides, Ava was stil trying to give Kalyna the benefit of the doubt, although she had to wonder if she was overcompensating because of Bella.
She needed to find out if Kalyna was capable of telling such a terrible lie. That was what she hoped to learn from the Harters--if they'd talk to her.
The ice clinked as she drained the glass of iced tea she'd left on the dining-room table, next to her briefcase and files. She had no idea how Mr.
and Mrs. Harter might respond to her questions. It was possible that Kalyna hadn't told them what had happened on June 6. Some rape victims were so humiliated they didn't want to talk about it to anyone, even family or friends.
Ava frowned. She wasn't eager to be the one to break the news. It wasn't her place. But the context of Kalyna's life would be too valuable to either the prosecution or the defense, depending on what that context proved to be. So, with or without her interference, Kalyna's folks wouldn't remain in the dark for long.
Before picking up her cell phone, Ava checked the clock. Nearly eight. Arizona and California were in the same time zone. If she was lucky, she'd catch the Harters well after they'd finished dinner.
She dialed, the phone rang and a recorded greeting began.
You've reached the Harter Family Mortuary,
a male voice said.
Our
office hours are nine to six, Monday to Friday, ten to six on Saturday. We're
closed on Sunday. If your call is business related, please leave a message
after the beep and we'l get back to you. If you'd like to speak to a member
of the Harter family, press "1."
Glad she hadn't hung up as soon as the recording came on, Ava did as instructed.
Almost immediately, she heard a female voice. "Hello?"
"Is Mr. or Mrs. Harter there?"
"This is Mrs. Harter."
"Hello, Mrs. Harter. My name is Ava Bixby--"
"If you're looking for the mortuary, it's closed for the night," she cut in.
"I'm afraid you'l have to call back in the morning."
"I'm not looking for the mortuary." Ava pulled out one of the heavy dining room chairs and squeezed around the arm of it so she could sit 70
down. "I'd like to speak with you regarding your daughter, Kalyna."
There was a silence, then Mrs. Harter said, "Oh, boy, what is it now?"
Ava felt her eyebrows go up. "Oh, boy" was a rather inauspicious beginning..."I'm with a charity called The Last Stand. We help victims of violent crime who--"
"You're calling about the supposed rape."
"Yes."
Supposed
wasn't a word she would've expected Mrs. Harter to use, either, but at least the woman had been told. That was a relief.
No longer worried that she'd be breaking a confidence, Ava relaxed and started doodling on her steno pad. "Your daughter came to me for help last Monday."
"What kind of help was she after?
Money?"
Ava's pen carved a deeper imprint on the paper. "No, not money. She wants to make sure the man who hurt her goes to prison, as he should."
"Do you have any
proof
that he raped her?" she asked.
"We have your daughter's testimony," Ava replied.
"I'd be careful basing anything on that--especially a man's freedom."
Ava dropped her pen, which rolled off the table and hit the floor before she could catch it. "Excuse me?"
"Just tell me this, what's in it for her?"
Ava stiffened. "I don't know that there's anything in it for her."
"There has to be. There always is."
How was she supposed to respond to this? She'd expected a
little
more from Mrs. Harter. Some sympathy, perhaps. Some concern. "Kalyna was beaten up, too," she said.
News of the beating didn't seem to make a difference. "Do you think that means anything?"
"I have pictures."
Kalyna's mother laughed at this. "Oh, I'm sure the injuries were real enough, but they couldn't have been
too
serious because every last bruise is already gone."
"You've seen her?" she asked in surprise.
"She showed up out of the blue just today."
Kalyna hadn't mentioned that she'd be visiting Arizona, but it wasn't as though she had to check in with Ava. "I guess it's natural to want to be 71
with family at such a time."
"Ms. Bixby, her visit has nothing to do with any desire to see us.
She's getting as much mileage out of this as she can."
"I don't understand."
"She's playing the poor, injured victim. Did you know she's AWOL?"
she asked, as if that proved Kalyna wrong in every respect.
Ava opened Kalyna's file and flipped through her summary of their first meeting. "She couldn't get leave?"
"She says they wouldn't grant it to her. Claims her superior officer is out to get her. But anyone who stands in her way is out to get her. Chances are she didn't bother asking like she should have. She had a good excuse and she used it."
Kalyna's mother was
so
negative it was off-putting, and that created the reverse effect, making Kalyna seem more credible rather than less.
"Her situation with the air force doesn't have anything to do with me," Ava explained. "I'm only interested in what happened--or didn't happen--the night of June 6. To be honest, I'm shocked you're not more concerned about her injuries."
"Obviously, you've never seen what she can do to herself when she throws one of her tantrums."
"You're saying she's injured herself before?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
Shit. This had been Ava's fear, and yet she was tempted to tell Mrs.
Harter about Bella, whose death had been a painful lesson about using past behavior to judge a particular incident. Every situation had to be judged on its own merit. But what was the point in trying to share what she'd learned? The most she could hope to get from Norma was clarification.
Slipping out of her chair, she wandered over to the window.
"Tantrums? At age twenty-six?"
"I don't know if she's thrown one lately, but she did it all the time she was growing up, whenever she didn't get what she wanted."
"What did these tantrums consist of?"
"She'd start screaming and crying and hurting herself. That's a tantrum, isn't it?"
72
It sure sounded like one. "How bad would it get?"
"Bad. So bad that a few bruises are nothing to her. I caught her sneaking out one night when she was...oh, probably seventeen, so I told her she'd be doing cleanup duty for the next month. And you know what she did? She started banging her head against the wall! We had to tie her to the bed to stop her from bashing in her stupid skull."
If that was true, Kalyna was a very troubled woman. But Ava had already suspected that. "Has she ever received counseling?"
"No, we knew she'd only manipulate the therapist, have her thinking we were ogres. She tried turning us in for child abuse a few times, nearly got herself put in foster care. That would've been lucky for us. I don't know why we fought it."
Ava wasn't a psychologist, but she was wel aware that self-mutilation was a big danger sign. They should've sought help. "What about hospital visits?" she persisted. "Surely there's some proof of this behavior. Even a single documented case?"
"Her injuries were never so serious that we couldn't look after them ourselves," her mother said.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Why would I kid about that? What can a doctor do for a bruise?"
Ava drew the drapes against the deepening dark. "How did you know she hadn't given herself a concussion with the head banging? You never had her checked by a professional?"
Mrs. Harter didn't react well to censure. Her voice cooled considerably. "Do you realize how much that would've cost?"
Didn't most people care more about their kids than money? "But--"
"We own a small business, Ms. Bixby." We can't afford health insurance. Besides, it would only have given Kalyna the attention she craves. She's an actress, that one."
Ava pictured the young woman who'd sat sobbing in her office. She'd seemed so normal that day, at least for someone who'd been recently traumatized. "What if, in this one instance, she's telling the truth?"
"How would you ever know?" her mother asked.
"That's what I'm trying to determine."
"Listen, Ms. Bixby, I'm sure you have plenty of other people to worry 73
about. Don't waste your time with Kalyna. Some people are just bad eggs--
and she's one of them."
A click signaled the end of the conversation.
Ava tried to call back, but the mortuary message came on, and this time when she pressed "1", no one responded. "Damn it!" she grumbled, and called Jonathan to blow off steam.
"You won't believe this," she announced as soon as he said hello.
"What's up?" he asked.
"I just hung up with Kalyna Harter's mother--she's a piece of work, let me tell you."
"Unfriendly? Eccentric?"
"More than unfriendly." Ava rubbed her tired eyes. "Callous, uncaring--hardly the stuff most mothers are made of. I feel sorry for Kalyna."
"Well, before you shed too many tears, I've found more proof that Kalyna isn't what you'd call an exemplary citizen."
Just what she needed. With a sigh, she returned to the table. "Proof in the form of what?"
"LexisNexis shows that she got a couple of Visa cards as soon as she turned eighteen, charged them to the limit the very first week and never bothered to pay."
Ava pulled the pictures from Kalyna's file and studied her injuries again. This wasn't head banging. She'd have to have punched and clawed herself.
Could
she have done that? "I guess she was under the mistaken impression that goods purchased with Visa are free?"
"They were free for her," he said. "But she won't get that chance a second time. Not for a while, anyway."
"Okay, so she's an irresponsible nymphomaniac who was a problem child. I think we've established that.
But is she lying about the rape?"