“The least you could do is smile,” he said, placing his hand back on the steering wheel. “You look so pretty when you smile.”
He turned into a parking lot and parked the car.
“Is this your surprise?” she asked, looking up and seeing a motel sign.
He pulled out a key and jangled it. “When we get to the room, I’m going to make you feel like you’ve never felt before.”
She’d already accomplished that without him, although she knew he was referring to sex. Starvation was interesting. Something new happened every day. That is, as long as you didn’t cheat. But she was long past cheating. She was tired of waiting, though, and fearful someone would find out and stop her. It wasn’t herself she was concerned about. The previous week, she had seen him with her younger sister.
She followed him up the stairway to the second floor, holding on to the railing for support until they reached the room.
“We don’t have to hurry,” he said, once they were inside. “That’s why I got the room. Take your clothes off. No one’s going to bother us here.” He turned on the air conditioner, an old floor unit. “Man, this thing really blasts, doesn’t it? While everyone’s sweltering out there, we can cuddle under the covers.”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, placing her hand inside her sweatshirt and clasping her cell phone. She closed the door behind her and flushed the toilet so he couldn’t hear.
When she came back, he shoved her sweatshirts up to her armpits.
“Jesus, you’re skin and bones. Are you sick?”
“You told me to lose weight,” she said, fixing him with a look of defiance. “Isn’t this what you wanted? My breasts are gone. I look like a little girl again. That’s what turns you on, isn’t it?”
“I—I didn’t mean you should…” He walked around in a circle, coming to terms with what he had seen. “It’s okay. You just went overboard. Start eating again. You’ll gain the weight back in no time.” He came up behind her, and pulled her to his body. “I want you so bad,” he said, moaning. “It’s been too long.”
“I’m going to tell the police.”
“Don’t talk, baby,” he panted. “We’ve got all day.”
“Didn’t you hear me, asshole?” she shouted, twisting away from him. “I’m going to tell the police what you’ve been doing to me. They’ll send you to prison.”
His face became distorted with rage. He pulled back his arm and punched her hard in the abdomen. She doubled over in pain. “Look what you’ve done,” he said, massaging his knuckles. “You know you can’t threaten me like that.”
“I can do anything I want,” she snarled. “The only way you can stop me is to kill me.”
He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the bathroom. After he kicked her several times, he fell on top of her and began pummeling her with his fists. The lower half of her body was sandwiched between the toilet and the bathtub. The sweat dripped down from his face and stung her eyes. She felt a blow to her chest, then her ribs, and another to her groin area. When she saw the next blow coming, she intentionally turned her face into his fist.
The beating stopped. His fury turned to fear. When he beat her, he never struck her in the face. He made certain all the blows landed on her torso, so she could cover them with her clothes. He moved her jaw from side to side. The pain was excruciating, but she forced herself not to cry out. She didn’t want someone in the motel to hear and call the police. It wasn’t time yet.
“Jesus, your jaw may be broken.” He walked out of the bathroom, and then returned, standing in profile in the doorway. “We’ll think of something. You could say you tripped and fell on the sidewalk. I’ll go and get some ice to put on your jaw.”
“If you leave,” she said, pushing herself up on her elbows, “I’ll call the police and tell them you raped me.”
“Why are you doing this?” he said, placing his hand on his head. “If you wanted to hurt me, you have. You’ve lost too much weight. You don’t know what you’re saying. I didn’t mean to hit you. You provoked me. Everything’s fine now. I’m sorry. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”
“How can you make it up to me?” she yelled, her pent-up emotions spewing out. “You’re a filthy, disgusting pig. I hate you. I’m going to tell everyone. They’ll put your name in the newspapers. They’ll—”
“You ungrateful little bitch,” he said, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “This is all because of that guy.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “What did you do with him? I warned you not to get involved with gutter scum like that.”
“You’re a wimp,” she yelled, her face twisted in contempt. “A third grader could hit harder than you. You don’t scare me. I want a real man, not some stupid prick like you.”
“Shut up,” he said, his chest heaving.
“You can’t get it up with a real woman,” she pressed on. “Pretty soon, you won’t even be able to get it up with a kid. Who do you think your fooling? You’re a perverted freak.”
He hoisted her up in his arms and then dropped her into the bathtub.
Her back felt like it was broken. Blinding pain rushed through her body. She wasn’t sure if he was going to wash the blood off or drown her. It had to end now. She’d rather die than have the same thing happen to her sister. And dying was the only way. Murderers went away forever. Everyone else got out.
His thumbs dug into her throat, his eyes bulging.
“Kill me!” she choked out. “Do it, bastard! Do it now or I’ll tell.”
CHAPTER 2
Tuesday, October 12—9:55 A.M.
Carolyn Sullivan’s eyes rested on a framed print to the right of her desk, a winding path through a lush, green forest. Only a year ago, the walls were covered with pictures of Brad Preston standing in front of high-powered race cars. When the director of the Ventura County Probation Department had retired, Preston had been promoted to chief deputy over probation services. Carolyn had been appointed to his position as division manager over the investigative unit.
She was finally earning a decent income. The only problem was it came with a heavy price. Her wedding was only two weeks away, and all she could think about were the horrible crimes human beings committed against each other. There was no way to stop them. The only thing she could do was punish them.
Carolyn spun her chair around to face Veronica Campbell. At forty, Veronica was an outspoken woman. She had a daughter almost the same age as Carolyn’s son, John, as well as three other young children. She wore her curly blond hair short, and had a round, friendly face. She’d never lost the weight from her last pregnancy, and the extra twenty pounds had settled in her midsection and thighs. The two women had known each other since grade school. They didn’t always agree on everything, but they were best friends. “Brent Dover should spend the rest of his life in prison,” Carolyn told her. “Unfortunately, we don’t have that as an option. How could you not recommend a prison sentence? Dover sodomized Patricia Baxter. She has permanent brain damage. As far as I’m concerned, he killed her.”
“For one thing,” Veronica countered, “Patricia Baxter is a guy, not a girl. His real name is Patrick, but he went to court and changed it to Patricia. Cute, huh? Only a few letters difference, so he wouldn’t forget it. Secondly, Brett Dover wasn’t convicted of sodomy or attempted murder. This is a 245 violation, Carolyn. He didn’t use a gun, a knife, or a baseball bat. I’m not sure how we even got him for