Staying Dirty (3 page)

“Tell me where I can find Carter Bates,” I command.

He shakes his head slowly, as if he’s confused. “I have no idea. The only contact I’ve had with him since that night has been when he seeks me out. What he did that night… It was never supposed to go that far—”

I stop him with a menacing look. I don’t need to hear this. I can’t. Each man responsible for that night has given me some version of this same statement.
It wasn’t supposed to go that far.

“How far was it
supposed
to go? How far was okay in your mind? Beating us? Raping my girlfriend? Was it the stabbing that was
too
much?
Too
far? Or maybe it was when you left, bought bottles of bleach, and returned to the scene of the crime to dump it over her lifeless body. Maybe it was when you all walked away and left us for dead.

“The moment you decided to wait for us, it had already gone
too fucking far
.”

“That was Carter. It was all Carter.” He tugs on the ends of his hair, his knuckles whitening. “He was the one who stabbed you. He stabbed your girlfriend. He was the one who bought the bleach. He
made
us pour it over her. We didn’t want to do it.”

His eyes dart to Rocky as if pleading with her to believe him. To understand. To sympathize. I step sideways, cutting off his view.

“Don’t fucking look at her.”

“Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t want to be a part of it. I didn’t want to kill anybody.”

Please?

He didn’t want to be a part of it?

I snap.

One second, I’m standing in front of Rocky, hiding her from Anthony’s gaze, and the next, the table is flipping into the counter, and I have my hands fisted in his shirt collar. I propel him into the wall, the plaster crumpling with the force.

I pull him toward me, and then I slam him back again. His head hits hard, making a fleshy thudding sound.

“He didn’t make you rape her, you fucking piece of shit.” I slide my thumbs up until they rest on each side of his windpipe, and I press. “He didn’t make you walk around free for all of these years. He didn’t make you stay silent. You should have turned yourself in. You should be rotting in prison.”

“Link,” Rocky says, a plea clear in her tone. “
Stop
.”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t see what they did. What
he
did.” I choke over my words as the image of Olivia invades.

“You didn’t hear them laughing,” I rasp, shaking my head as tears blur my vision. “They laughed at her when she screamed. What kind of animal finds joy in terrifying a woman? He enjoyed it, Rocky. You don’t understand. Her lips were shivering. She was cold and naked on the icy ground.” I push my fingers deeper into his flesh. He tries to shove me away. He’s probably been doing it for a while now, but I can hardly feel it.

“When Olivia reached for me—when we touched for the very last time—this bastard kicked our hands apart. He couldn’t even allow us that.

“And then he unzipped his pants.

“Do you know what my last memory of that night is?” I look into Anthony’s eyes, now red form the bursting blood vessels.

“You climbing on top of my girlfriend—the woman I loved with all my heart—and violating her as she whimpered her pleas for you to
stop
.”

I release him, letting him fall to the floor. He wheezes, gasping and gagging as he fights for air.

“Tell me how to find Bates or I will make you understand firsthand what I witnessed that night.” I peer down at him, making sure he hears my next words. “You have a lovely wife. It would be a shame for her to be punished for your sins.”

Six

Rocky

Seeing Link break down like this rips my heart to shreds. I’ve never watched someone relive their pain like this before. But I feel every ounce of his anguish.

“I swear,” Anthony says, his voice hoarse and raspy, “I have no idea where Carter is. I don’t have a number. I don’t have an address. I’ve never wanted to look for him. But if you give him time, he’ll contact me. He always does.”

“What do you mean?” Link demands.

Anthony rubs his throat, eyeing Link as he paces in front of him. “He shows up randomly. Checking in. Making sure I’m keeping my mouth shut about that night. With Steve killing himself—his picture in the paper and the connection to you with those articles he kept—Carter will come for me, reminding me to ignore any conscience I might be struggling with.”

Link stares Anthony down, contemplating his words.

I don’t understand the sound I hear until Anthony’s face pales and his eyes widen with horror.

A little girl skips into the kitchen, humming to herself. Her shoes skid to a stop as her eyes trail over the mess Link made in his rage. And then she looks at each of us, one at a time, her gaze finally landing on her dad, still sprawled on the floor. He raises a hand as if he’s trying to grab her or push her away. I’m not sure which.

“Emma, did you take your shoes off?” A woman who can only be Anthony’s wife comes around the corner directly behind the girl, flipping through the stack of mail in her hand.

“NO,” Anthony screams. “RUN.” He propels himself to his feet, leaping toward Link.

The woman sucks in a startled breath, dropping the envelopes to the floor. She reaches blindly for her daughter, curling her other hand protectively around her belly.

As Anthony plunges into him, Link brings his hand up defensively. The solid length of his forearm connects with Anthony’s chin, snapping his teeth together loudly.

Link grabs Anthony’s wrist, twisting until the man falls to his knees, his face distorted with pain. Link kicks him away, pulling the knife from his pocket once again.

“Bethany,” Anthony says carefully, his voice gravelly. His eyes flick rapidly between his wife, his daughter, and Link. “Take Emma and go. Get out of here.”

Link moves quickly, stepping between Bethany and Emma. My heart pounds in my chest. I don’t want to believe Link would ever hurt either of them—but I have no idea the lengths he’ll go to at this point.

“Bethany,” Link says softly, “I need you to come have a seat beside your husband. Now.” He places his hand on Emma’s shoulder, making sure her mother can see the knife. Bethany cries out, doing as she’s told.

“Please don’t hurt my little girl,” she begs between sobs. Emma begins to cry, witnessing her mother’s tears.

I want to cover my ears. I want to close my eyes—block all this out. I want to be anywhere but here. I can’t do this. I can’t watch Link do this. I can’t watch him torture this poor woman and her daughter.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Link murmurs. My head snaps to him because I think he’s talking to me. That he somehow read my thoughts. But he’s staring at Bethany, his face a mask of regret. “I don’t want to hurt either one of you.”

We’re at a stand-off now. Anthony and his family have no clue what Link will do—what he’s capable of—and that makes for an even worse situation. Desperate people do crazy things to protect their loved ones. And a desperate man can do even crazier things to avenge his.

“Get up,” Link tells Anthony. The words no sooner leave his mouth before Bethany is sobbing again.

I can’t watch this. I’m just not made that way.

“Link,” I breathe. “There’s a better way. There has to be.”

“What other way is there, Rocky?”

I glance between the men, my mind spinning. “He said Carter will contact him. We can wait for that to happen.”

Link shakes his head, his brows crinkling. “You really think he’s going to tell me? He won’t. He’ll tell Bates. And Bates will come for us.
For you
.”

I point at Bethany, her hair sticking to her face, wet with tears as she stares at her daughter, so close but so far away. “If you walk out of this house with her husband or child, she’ll call the police. How far will you get then?”

Link squeezes his eyes closed. His chest rises and falls quickly. “He has to pay for what he did.” His voice is full of misery and indecision. My heart bleeds for him. I understand his need to punish Anthony. I do. I feel it every day for Garrett.

But this isn’t the way.

I look into Emma’s sweet, little face—at how terrified she is—and I know she doesn’t deserve this, no matter what her father has done. Link is going too far.

“Then make him pay,” I say. “But not like this.” I look around the room, taking it all in. There has to be something else we can do. My eyes meet Bethany’s. She reaches over, taking Anthony’s hand. And all I can think about is what Link just told me. How Anthony kicked his hand away from Olivia’s before he raped her. How he tore them apart. How he denied them that last comfort.

I dip my chin, nodding to Bethany. “Tell her,” I say with certainty. “Tell her what her husband did to you and Olivia.” I look back to Link, meeting his gaze. “I can’t think of worse punishment than the way she’ll look at him for the rest of their lives.”

Seven

Link

The amount of pleasure I take from the thought of Anthony’s wife cringing at his touch is almost scary. I’ve traumatized this woman and her child so much already, but Rocky’s right. Forcing him to face what he did in the form of his wife’s disgust is a much better punishment than death. He’ll have to live with this for the rest of his life.

“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.