Staying Dirty Page 3

  “I promise you, nobody will hurt you or your daughter,” I say to Bethany as I pull Emma toward me. “But what I’m about to tell you isn’t meant for a child’s ears.”

  “No,” Bethany cries, unsure of what I’m about to do. My gut twists with her pleas. I realize, in this moment, in her eyes, I’m the monster.

  “Rocky, take Emma into the other room,” I say, my voice scraping like sand paper. “Keep her where her mom can see her, but turn the TV on so she can’t hear what I’m about to say.”

  Rocky nods, taking Emma from me quickly. Though I shouldn’t be, I’m grateful she insisted on coming with me. This could have gone a much different way if she hadn’t.

  I kneel so I can look into Bethany’s eyes as I relay the story of the night my world came crashing down. I want her to see my pain. I want her to know every word I say is true.

  “Please don’t,” Anthony husks. “I’ll go with you. I’ll do what you want. I’ll find Bates. Just don’t…don’t…” He glances at his wife, his eyes wild with fear.

  “Don’t do this,” he repeats, his voice taking on an edge of anger.

  I tighten the knife in my grip, resting my hand on my leg, reminding him of its presence. He winces, pushing his back into the wall. Bethany understandably panics at the close proximity, gasping and crying.

  I stand, taking her arm as I go. I pull her to her feet as tenderly as I can with her struggling against me. I right a chair several feet away from Anthony and guide her into it. I pick another one up and set it in front of her, taking a seat.

  “I met and fell in love with the most beautiful girl in the world when I was fifteen years old.” I glance over at Anthony, warning him to keep quiet. “I was so in love. Olivia was—she was everything to me. I built my life around her. And maybe I counted on her too much. Maybe I loved her too deeply. Because the day she was murdered was the last day I was happy.” I pause, knowing this has changed recently. I’ve begun to feel bits of joy in Rocky’s presence. Little pieces of contentment and pleasure. Something I was sure I’d never know again. But that’s not the story I’m telling right now.

  “Four years ago, I was in my sophomore year of college. Livie was a freshman.” I smile weakly as I picture her smiling face. “I had just bought an engagement ring—I was going to ask her to marry me the following weekend when we went home for Christmas break. But I never got the chance.

  “Four men approached us after a movie. These men, they beat us, they took turns repeatedly raping Livie, and they stabbed us both over and over again.” My voice gives out on the last word. I’ve told this story several times, but it’s as hard today as the first time.

  Bethany gapes at me, not sure what to think. But I can see she’s an intelligent woman. I can see she knows where I’m heading with this. I can also see she doesn’t want to believe it.

  “Olivia died. I didn’t.” I shake my head, still unable to understand how God could possibly make that decision.

  I glance around the room, locating the newspaper I brought with me. I scoop it up and place it in Bethany’s lap. I point to the article about Morrison.

  “Do you recognize him?”

  “Stop,” Anthony snarls.

  I ignore him, repeating the question. “Do you recognize this man?”

  Bethany looks down, a crease forming between her eyebrows. “That’s Steve.” She looks to her husband, but he doesn’t notice. His head is in his hands again, his eyes locked on the floor, unable to face his wife.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispers.

  But I know she does.

  I point again. “This is Olivia. She was gorgeous, wasn’t she?” I keep going, not expecting a reply. “And that’s me.” I point one last time, showing her the part in the article where it explains the possible connection between my case and Steve Morrison. Her eyes move over the words, taking them in, absorbing them like the poison they are.

  “Steve was one of the men that night. He was one of the four, Bethany. Do you know Aaron Woods?”

  Her eyes pop up to meet mine. She nods, her head bouncing jerkily.

  “He was also one of the men from that night. What about Carter Bates? Do you know him?”

  She seems confused for a moment, as if trying to place him. She glances at Anthony. “I met him once when he showed up at Emma’s birthday party last year. I only remember because Greg got so angry.”

  I nod. “He was also one of the men that night.”

  Bethany begins to cry again. Silent tears roll down her cheeks, landing in splotches on her shirt.

  “Your husband and his friends raped my girlfriend right in front of me.”

  “No,” she utters. “He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t.”

  I sit back in the chair and direct my gaze on Anthony. He hasn’t even tried to deny it. But Bethany so desperately wants to believe in his innocence. He doesn’t deserve it.

  “He wore a red Cleveland Indians coat that night. I remember because when I tried to pull him away from my girlfriend, my fingers slipped off the satiny material.” I keep looking at him, waiting for him to take ownership of his actions.

  “Do you still have it?” I ask. “Do you still have the coat you wore while you raped my girlfriend?”

  He raises his head sluggishly and finally looks at his wife. She shakes her head, her lips trembling, recognition in her teary eyes. Anthony clenches his jaw tightly and shifts his gaze to me.

  “No. I burnt it before Emma was born.”

  It takes everything inside of me not to hurl myself at him. Instead, I turn my attention back to Bethany. The sickened shock and revulsion evident on her face makes my next breath come easier. It was like someone had been sitting on my chest, the pressure restricting me from ever getting a good, deep lungful of air. And now that pressure has finally been lifted.

  “Greg?” Bethany murmurs his name like a question, but we all know she already has her answer. She stands, her hands shaking as she covers her belly.

  “Did you do it? Did you rape someone? Did you kill someone?”

  Anthony stares at his wife, his face devoid of emotion except for the moisture pooling in his eyes.

  And it’s all the answer she needs.

  “How could you do that? How…?” She shakes her head, at a loss for words. “Four years ago? While I was pregnant with your child? You raped and murdered a woman, and then came home and slept in our bed? You lied next to me—your wife—after that?” She cups her hand over her mouth as if fighting the urge to be sick, her eyes wide with horror.

  Anthony turns his head, refusing to look at her once again.

  “They took everything that mattered from me that night,” I husk. “And Carter Bates is still doing it.” I look into Bethany’s eyes and decide to be wholly honest with her.

  “The woman sitting with your daughter was attacked by Bates just a few nights ago. And this morning, he approached another woman—a friend of mine.”

  “He’s not going to stop,” Anthony spits. His eyes slit into a glare as he stares at me with loathing. “And now he’s going to come after my wife and daughter. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  “What I’ve done?”

  “The reason he showed up at my daughter’s birthday party was to remind me that he could. To remind me to keep my mouth shut or there’d be consequences. If he finds out Bethany knows, he’ll kill her too.”

  “Because of YOU,” Bethany bellows. Her fingers curl into fists as she looks into her husband’s eyes, seeing him for what he really is. “How could you do this? How could you hurt that woman? You’re sick.” She lunges at him, slapping him across the face. His head jerks to the side, but he doesn’t move in any other way.

  “You put your daughter in danger. All this time—and you never told me. You never warned me.” She inhales a stuttered breath and continues. “That man came to our home. He walked right up to our daughter and wished her a happy birthday. He could’ve—” She stops suddenly as if she can’t bear to go on. />
  She turns her attention to me, her eyes full of moisture. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so, so sorry.” She shakes her head repeatedly as if she still can’t quite make sense of it.

  It’s understandable. Up until a few minutes ago, she thought her husband was a normal man. A loving husband and doting father. I’m sure she never imagined what he was capable of. It’s definitely hard to understand. I lived it and I can’t make sense of it.

  “I know you think he might deserve it, and maybe he does…” Bethany presses her lips together as the tears spill over. “I’m sure there’s a special place reserved for him in Hell. But, please, don’t kill him. We can call the police. He can turn himself in. Please, don’t kill him in front of his daughter.”

  Her request catches me off guard. It shouldn’t, but it does. Hearing a woman beg for her husband’s life is something I will never, ever forget. This day will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  “I’m not going to kill him,” I say slowly. “And I don’t want him to turn himself in.”

  Her brows draw together in confusion. “He has to face what he did,” she insists. “He needs to tell the police and they need to arrest Aaron and Carter. I can’t live like this—in fear of my own husband. Afraid his friends will come for me or my children.”

  I nod. “I understand that. And I want that too. But if you give me some time—just a couple of days—I can make sure you’ll never have to fear those men again. I can end this.”

  Her eyes flick over my face, trying to make sense of what I’m saying.

  “Is there somewhere safe you and your daughter can stay for a few days? Once Bates contacts your husband, and I do what I need to do, then you can call the police.” I take a cautious step toward her. “Please,” I say. “I can’t take the chance of Bates getting away. Of him hurting another person. He has to be stopped.” I glance over my shoulder at Rocky, meeting her gaze for a quick moment. “She’s all I have left in the world now and I can’t risk losing her too.”

  Bethany closes her eyes, letting the tears drop form her lashes. I know what I’m asking is too much. But if it will protect her and her daughter too…

  She wipes the teardrops away with the back of her hand and takes a long, deep breath before answering.

  “Give me your word you won’t hurt Greg.”

  I nod again. “I swear it. I just want Bates.”

  “You’ll make sure these other men can never hurt anyone again? Emma will be safe?”

  “Yes.”

  She turns away, heading for her daughter. “I’m taking Emma and I’m going to my parents. You have two days before I turn my husband in to the police.”

  Eight

  Rocky

  I’m at a loss for words as we leave the Anthony’s house. I climb into the car, trying to decide if Link won or lost today. He didn’t kill anyone, but he still got his revenge. But a family was torn apart in the process. The drive back to Link’s house is heavy with silence as I weigh this. I think it’s better for Bethany to know who her husband is. I just feel like she could have found out in a better way.

  And then I nearly laugh at the absurdity. Because there is no better way—no right way—to find out the man you’ve been sharing a bed with, the man you swore to love until the day you die, the man who fathered your children, is a cold-blooded murderer. A rapist. A liar.

  I reach over and take Link’s hand, securing my fingers between his. He looks down at our hands, then back to the road. He doesn’t look at me.

  We pull into his driveway, but neither of us even attempts to get out. It’s been a draining day and it’s not even noon yet. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with the rest of my day, but I know I can’t go back to work and sit by myself in that little office.

  He pulls his hand away from mine and scrapes his fingers over his head, sighing heavily before opening the door and heading up to the house. That sigh represents exactly how I feel. I follow him inside, fighting to ignore the churning in my stomach.

  Link sinks into the couch and peers up at me. “It’s not safe for you here anymore.”

  “It’s not safe for me anywhere,” I say. Bates found Lea. What makes him believe he doesn’t already know where I live? “I’m safer here, with you, than I am alone in my apartment.”

  “You should stay with Joe. Or go stay with your parents for a while.”

  “I’m not doing that,” I say firmly. “I won’t pull my family into this.”

  Link closes his eyes, his chest rising with a long breath. “What I did today… I don’t want to be that person. What you saw—the way I terrified that woman, that little girl—that’s not who I want to be.”

  “What I saw today was difficult to watch. But completely necessary. Link, you may have saved that woman’s life. Her children’s lives. She needed to know who Anthony really was.” I shake my head, disgusted as I replay the scene in my mind.

  “He was married.”

  Link’s eyes pop open, meeting mine. His jaw clenches, the muscles performing their usual dance along his cheeks.

  “She was pregnant with his child when he chose to… When he did what he did to Olivia. Maybe he’s changed. Maybe his daughter made him a different person. But in my experience, it’s very rare for a person to change who they are deep down. Either way, Bethany deserved to know the truth. That’s what I saw today.”

  I lower myself beside him and place my hand on his arm. He blinks at me, shaking his head.

  “I know she needed to know. And telling her has lifted a huge weight off my chest. But seeing the pain and fear I evoked in her…” He looks down at my hand on his arm offering him my support. “I don’t know how you can stand to touch me. I don’t know how you even stomach to look at me after what you witnessed today. Livie would be so angry with me. She would be appalled by what I did. Too sickened to be near me.”

  “I’ll never stop wanting to touch you, Link. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I want to touch for the rest of my life.” I slide my hand down until I can lock my fingers with his. “I don’t think that’s true about Livie, either. I don’t believe she wouldn’t want to be near you. I don’t see how it’s possible. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not her,” I murmur. “And she’s not here.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back. He knows she’s not here. That’s what this is all about. What the last four years have come down to. He doesn’t need me to add to his pain by reminding him.

  Link’s eyes land on mine again, his head tilting in puzzlement. “She’s always here.”

  My stomach rolls. My pulse hammers under my skin. Those three little words are the hardest slap of reality I’ve ever encountered. She’s always here. And she always will be. No matter what happens, no matter how much he opens himself up to me or me to him, I will always be standing in the shadow of his dead girlfriend.

  “Then there will never be room for me,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. He’s made it clear from the beginning, but for some reason, until this moment, I didn’t fully understand. There will never be enough room in his heart for me. It will always be hers.

  I push myself forward, ready to bolt because I feel the all too familiar sting of hot tears filling my eyes. Link grabs my arm, holding me in place. He stares at me as if he’s bewildered by my words—shocked to see moisture in my eyes.

  “I’m trying to make room for you. More and more every day. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t want this. I’m still trying to accept it. I never thought I would be able to find any form of happiness again. You snuck up on me. So you have to understand it’s going to take time.” He slides his hands up until they’re cupping my jaw. His thumbs brush over my lips once, twice. He draws me closer, his mouth a breath away from mine.

  I focus on the only part that counts. The part where I make him happy.

  “Give me time, Rocky, please. When Liv died, I never thought I’d know any kind of life again. But I’m starting to see a future
for myself. Something outside of my vengeance. One with you.”

  Link closes the distance, touching his lips to mine. He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t kiss. I wait for him to pull away just as he’s done every time before, but instead, he uses the pressure of his mouth to push mine open. After a quick moment of shock, I gladly surrender to him, greedily taking whatever he’s willing to give.

  The first sweep of his tongue, wet and warm against mine, sends a shiver of desire straight to my core. I clutch his neck, my fingernails digging into his flesh as I mimic his mouth’s movements.

  Link tugs my shirt, but I’m reluctant to give up his lips. Now that I’ve finally experienced what his mouth can do, I never want it to end. He tries to pull back and I come with him, keeping my mouth sealed to his. He places both hands back on my cheeks, holding me in place.

  “I want you naked,” he says before touching his lips to mine again for a soft, quick kiss. “I can’t take off your clothes while I’m kissing you.” He cocks his head to the side as if in thought. “At least not your shirt.” He grips the hem and slides it up and over my head.

  As soon as it hits the floor, I jerk his shirt off and slam my lips back into his. The way he tastes is addictive and he is my drug of choice.

  Link doesn’t stop kissing me as he unhooks my bra and unbuttons my jeans. He doesn’t stop as he removes each piece of my clothing or as I do the same to him. When he removes his lips from mine, it’s to pull me to my feet and tow me into his bedroom.

  He lies back on the bed, opening his arms to me. I wish I could freeze this moment. Lock it up and hold onto it forever. This peaceful moment of peer happiness.

  I pull the ponytail from my hair and crawl up the bed, climbing on top of his thighs. My hand automatically goes to his rough cheek. He nuzzles into my touch, his days worth of facial hair scratching my palm in a way that I feel in all of my girly places. I lean in until my nipples are pressed firmly to his chest and I slide my tongue over his closed lips. He opens immediately, inviting me in, but I’m not done feasting on the soft, plump skin.