“I…” She looked uncertain for a moment and finished, “No, Mike. But thanks.”
He moved to her and stopped five feet away, giving her space as she fiddled with both hands at the strap of her purse.
“What’s up, Rhonda?” he prompted when her eyes darted everywhere but to him and she didn’t speak.
Her eyes went to him then to his shoulder then she bit her lip. Through this she still didn’t speak and this went on awhile.
“Rhonda –” he started and her eyes shot to his and then she spoke. Fast.
“I shouldn’t have done it. I know I shouldn’t have. And I don’t know if I should be here. But I don’t know what else to do. Where else to go. Who else to tell. If there’s even anything that can be done.”
This was not a good start.
“How about you tell me what you did you shouldn’t have done first,” he suggested cautiously.
“I found her diaries and read them,” she blurted quickly.
Mike blinked.
Then he asked, “Pardon?”
“Dusty. Dusty’s diaries. I found them and read them.”
Mike’s entire body got tight but before he could stop her, the floodgates opened and pure acid began to pour out.
“I was…was looking through Darrin’s things. I was…was…I don’t even know how he had them but he hid them and I found them and I didn’t know what they were so I started readin’ them and then what I read, I couldn’t stop and it hurt so bad, Mike. To know. To finally know what happened to Dusty. And it hurt so bad to know Darrin knew that all these years seein’ as he had her diaries. And he bore that weight all by himself. And now I don’t know what to do ‘cause someone’s gotta know. If this is…if it’s…if she’s coping. ‘Cause if she isn’t, someone has to help her and you’re a cop. You’ll know what help people need when things like this happen.”
He didn’t want to know mostly because he simply didn’t want to know. Partly he didn’t want to know because Rhonda clearly had no clue Mike had started a relationship with her sister-in-law and it wasn’t his right to know until Dusty told him.
He opened his mouth to find some way to inform her of this without exposing anything when she kept talking and the acid of her word felt like it flayed away his skin.
“Denny Lowe molested her when she was fifteen.”
Mike stood completely still.
Dennis Lowe had been born in that town. Dennis Lowe had grown up in that town. Dennis Lowe had found a woman in college, married her and brought her back to that town. Years later, Dennis Lowe took an axe to his wife and they had to identify her from the wedding band on a finger which was one of the only parts of her body he hadn’t hacked to goo. Dennis Lowe had then gone on a killing spree in the name of Alec Colton’s now wife February. Then Dennis Lowe had committed suicide by cop. So Dennis Lowe was known nation-wide as just what he was. A thankfully dead whacked in the head serial killer.
And although not a dead ringer, Dusty looked like February Colton. Blonde hair, curvy figure, dark brown eyes.
They knew of one girl he’d raped prior to his losing total control on the very tenuous hold he had on his mind and then going on to murder five people, a dog and attacking another man.
And now he, Rhonda and, apparently, before his death, Darrin knew that Denny Lowe had molested Dusty.
Mike swallowed the bile creeping up his throat and Rhonda went on.
“It was…it was bad, Mike,” she whispered then jerked her head to the side, yanked open her purse and came out with two books. She looked back to Mike. “She wrote all about it.”
She jerked the books his way.
Mike stared at them like they were hissing snakes.
“I…she…I don’t know!” Rhonda suddenly cried and Mike’s eyes cut to her face to see it was twisted with despair and indecision. Then she f**king kept talking. “I read them all. Cover to cover. She…Mike…she was in love with you,” she leaned forward, “totally.” She leaned back and kept right on going. “And it wasn’t…I know she was young but it wasn’t little girl love. It was very rich, Mike, and beautiful. She wrote all about it. Then it happened. Then he…Denny…” she trailed off then f**king started again. “And it all went bad.”
“Rhonda –” Mike forced out but she talked over him.
“You have to read these. We have to help her. I don’t know how many times Darrin talked to me about Dusty. How he was worried about her. How she kept pickin’ the wrong guys. Total jerks. And they were. I met a couple of them and they weren’t good guys. We’d…we’d,” her face flushed, “well, we’d talk in bed about it at night. Not all the time but it happened. And I knew Darrin worryin’ about Dusty was the last thing on his mind before he went to sleep. She took off right after high school when everyone in the family knew she loved that land just like her Dad, just like Darrin. Then, it wasn’t like she settled in Danville or Avon or something. She settled in Texas,” she stated like Texas was on another continent then she kept talking. “Escaping, Darrin knew. I always thought she didn’t come back a lot ‘cause the occasions she came back for, Debbie was usually here and they don’t get along too good so she tried to avoid it and only came back when Debbie wasn’t going to be here or Debbie couldn’t stay long. But now I know.”
Now she knew.
And now Mike knew.
Mike’s eyes dropped to the books but his head filled with Dusty. Dusty as a little kid, her smile an easy flash, her laughter and singing filling the house, her wisecracks quick and clever. Then Dusty when he tried to talk to her, so much black makeup around her eyes, her hair a disaster, her clothes hanging on her, her face twisted with anger, her words sharp and bitchy.
Because a psycho had put his hands on her and she clearly dealt with that alone the best way she knew how. She didn’t tell anyone. Even her brother who she was closest to had to learn from her diaries.
And now she was with a guy who was clearly not right. Thirty-eight years old, never married and picking who she called “morons” but if this recent one was anything to go by, considering cops had to be involved to keep the ass**le away from her, was far worse than that.
“Mike?” Rhonda called and Mike’s eyes cut back to her face.
“Rhonda that was a long time ago and Denny Lowe is dead. There’s nothing I can do,” he said quietly, his voice carefully even, his gut so tight it was a wonder he didn’t throw up.