Текст книги "Forgive Us Our Trespasses"
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
“Second floor, Viv. This way,” Brooks says, pointing to the wide staircase at the end of the hallway off the front lobby area. He cords our fingers together, and we climb the stairs; each footstep matches the pounding of my heart, and it feels like it might beat out of my chest. “Don’t worry; no matter what it says, I’m still here,” Brooks declares when we reach the top of the stairs and see the sign for the office we came in search of.
The woman at the receptionist desk barely looks up from her computer screen when we enter the office. Her bright red hair has been drastically teased into some sort of beehive on top of her head, and the pencils sticking out of it would make one think that she is a busy little bee. Her actions speak otherwise. The solitaire game she is absorbed in apparently requires complete concentration. I actually have to ring the bell on the counter to pull her eyes away long enough to give us any information.
“We are here to look at the records pertaining to an old murder case,” I announce.
“Do you have the case number?” she asks, clearly unhappy that her game has been disturbed.
“No, ma’am. I only have the name,” I tell her.
“Sorry, can’t help you without a case number.” She abruptly turns her chair and resumes her clicking of the mouse, moving and shifting cards to various rows to line up the matching suits. I look over at Brooks, who only shrugs. I take a deep breath; I refuse to leave this building without seeing the files I came for. I look at the nameplate on her desk, and then ring the bell continuously until she gives me her full attention.
“Yessss?” she draws out. “I told you I couldn’t help you unless you have a case number.”
“I heard you, Merna is it? The thing is; that’s not true. I spoke to your supervisor, Mr. Simmons, earlier this week. In fact he was going to pull the case aside for me for when I arrived today. He informed me that I would not need a case number, only a name. So, if you could either get him, or pull my files, I would greatly appreciate it.”
She huffs and stands from her chair. “Follow me.” She leads us to a small conference room and gestures for us to take a seat at the table. “I’ll be right back with the files. What was the name on the case?”
“Greg Donovan was the victim in the case. I am his daughter, Vivian.” She leaves, closing the door behind her, leaving Brooks and me behind to wait on the files that could change everything.
“Wow, look at you getting all sassy with that lady,” he says, pulling a chair out for me.
“She was so unprofessional, and I wasn’t about to leave just because she didn’t want to get off her ass and do her job. That was ridiculous.”
Brooks laughs and takes a seat across the table from me. Within minutes, Merna returns with a cardboard box with the name Donovan written in black marker along the side. She places it on the table and immediately exits without saying anything. Whoever said public servants aren’t helpful, apparently never met Merna.
I hear the click of the door, letting me know that we are alone with the box, but I can’t find the courage to take the last step to remove the lid. I remain frozen in my seat, staring at the words on the box. Every piece of information that my mother refused to talk about is in there, and now that I have the power to know all of it, I’m terrified of what that information could be. I think about my father’s promise to build a fort, and how hard he worked to provide for us, but now a few words on a page could change everything I ever thought about him.
“Vivian, do you still want to look at it?” I hear Brooks ask, yanking me from my zone-out, and I shake my head to bring myself back to the moment. “Yes, I just need a minute to collect myself. Things might never be the same once I open that box. I can’t undo it once it’s done.”
“It probably won’t, but at least you’ll have the satisfaction of facing it–that you aren’t scared anymore to face this terrible thing that happened to your family.”
I push my chair away from the table and move toward the box at the end of the table, and Brooks follows. Grabbing the lid on both sides, I slowly lift it until the contents inside reveal themselves. I expected a disarray of random papers and photos, but instead, everything is neatly wrapped and tied together in a manila folder. I pick up the folder, and Brooks takes the box off the table, placing it on the floor beside us.
“I’m right here, Red. Untie it and we can find out together; you aren’t alone,” Brooks says, rubbing my back.
His words encourage me to keep going, to unlock my past. I untie the thread and open the folder. I split the stack of papers in half and give some to Brooks. “We don’t have a lot of time. You go through this stack, and I’ll go through the other, and we can swap information as we go.”
“Anything you need, Viv.” Brooks takes the papers from my hand and walks back to his seat. We each lay out our individual piles and separately begin rummaging through the stacks. Brooks holds up crime scene photos and mug shot line-ups. “How did you say he died?” he asks, examining each picture closely.
“He was strangled by a guy that worked for him, but that’s all I know,” I tell him, scanning through the investigator reports. “It looks like the guy had a previous record for all kinds of offenses, but my dad hired him anyways.”
“Really? Were they violent crimes?” he asks.
“No, looks like mainly drugs, fraud, burglary, theft…things like that.” I drop the report and sift through the other pages, the coroner’s report, and the grand jury indictment until I find the plea bargain affidavit.
“This case was pled out, Brooks,” I announce, stand, and move to his side of the table. I lay the paper in front of him and begin to point out the important pieces of information. “I thought that this was a complete trial, but it says they stopped the trial mid-way through, and that he accepted a plea bargain in exchange for a lesser charge. Why would the state do something like that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the defense found something that would have looked bad in court, or maybe the state would rather have him in jail than risk him being acquitted,” he explains.
“But I can’t find anything that discusses any of that. There’s nothing about private investigators uncovering unpleasant information about my dad. Did you find anything?” I ask.
“I don’t have anything; my entire pile is all pictures of the scene. I couldn’t even find the name of the suspect. What was included in the plea deal? Did he get off pretty lightly?”
“I didn’t need to look for his name; it’s one I would never forget. My mother screamed it at me the day my dad died, and it’s been burned into my mind ever since. His name is Raymond Michaels,” I say, looking down at the plea deal. “It looks like he pled down from murder one to second degree murder, and was sent to a maximum security prison outside Limon. What’s crazy though is he was looking at life, but the plea knocked it down to 25 years.”
I look to Brooks for his opinion, and I take a step back when I notice that all the color has drained from his face. “Brooks, are you okay? Are you feeling all right?” I reach for his cheek to feel if he’s warm. He looks like death, and it’s come on so suddenly, he has me worried.
“S-so, he c-could be out in l-like ten y-years?” he stutters through almost every word, like he’s choking on them. “He could be walking around like it never happened.”
“I know. It makes me sick to think one day I could run into him on the street and never even know that he was the one who changed my whole life.” I look more closely at him and see beads of sweat along his hairline. “Really, Brooks, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You don’t look good.”
He wipes his forehead with his palm and pushes away from the table. “I’m fine; I’m just going to run to the restroom really quick.” He stands and heads for the door. Not waiting for my response, he opens the door and rushes out, swiftly closing it behind him.
I shuffle through the last bit of the file, and then put it back together, loading it into the box. I at least found out the basics, but all of the incriminating information that was a part of the rumors growing up is vacant from any of the reports. After I put everything together, I sit at the table and patiently wait for Brooks to come back. The time slowly passes, and after thirty minutes, he still hasn’t returned.
Merna pokes her head into the room, announcing that they are closing up for the weekend. “Thank you. I’m all done. Have you seen the guy that came with me?” I ask her.
“When he came out, he asked where the restroom was, but I haven’t seen him since. I figured he snuck back in when I was in the back doing some filing.” Yeah, filing, I’m sure that’s what you were doing.
“Okay, thank you.” I stand and follow her out of the office, and she directs me towards the restrooms she sent him to. I knock on the men’s room and call out Brooks’ name. Nothing. I knock louder, concerned that maybe he passed out in there and is lying unconscious. I’m preparing to barge into the bathroom, when Brooks finally opens the door.
“Oh, shit, you scared the crap out of me. I thought you were passed out in there or something. Are you okay; are you sick?” I ask, reaching for him. He dodges my hand though, and scowls.
“I’m sorry you were worried. I’m not feeling well. Were you able to find out everything you needed?” He moves past me into the hallway and gets a drink from the water fountain across the hall.
“Yeah, I’m all set to go; besides, the solitaire queen said they are closing for the weekend.
“Okay,” he says, leaning over the water fountain. He then continues down the hallway, past security and to the car.
“Do you want me to drive back?” I offer. He still looks so bad; I want him to be able to rest if he needs to, and it’s a long drive back.
“That would be great.” He hands me the keys and climbs into the passenger seat.
We drive the entire way home in silence, and it feels horrible. I let the events of the day replay in my head, trying to figure out what would have suddenly made him ill, and I draw a blank. He was fine all day, until he saw the case…until it dawned on him that my dad’s killer will someday be on the streets, and if we’re still together, it would be his problem, as well as mine. I understand that the situation is a lot to take in, and he said he was ready for it and would be there for me, but this feels like rejection. By the time we make it back to the University, I’ve counted seven words that Brooks has said to me, which only feeds into my mounting anxiety.
We’re both already packed for the holiday weekend, so neither of us needs to go back up to the dorms. The plan was to say goodbye in the parking lot, and we would each make the drive to our homes. I’m expecting at least a small, memorable goodbye. But as soon as I park, I know it’s not coming.
“I have to go back in for some things. I guess I’ll see you when you get back,” he says when I hand him his keys. He then steps out of the car and takes off in the direction of our dorm–no ‘I love you’, no ‘drive careful’, no hug, and no kiss. Nothing. I hold my emotions in until I reach my car. I slide into the driver’s seat, turn on the ignition, and let my tears of rejection pour down.
Vivian
“Are you and Brooks coming to the concert tonight?” Cam asks on our way back from our final class for the day. After Thanksgiving, she started working with another band, and their first performance is supposed to be tonight. We are all planning on going. Well, almost all of us.
“I plan on going, but Brooks said he needs to finish his paper for Vauldin tonight. Finals are next week, and I’m not even sure if he’s started on it.” Campbell glowers at my answer. He has been MIA for most of our group outings. He has been distant and weird, but he refuses to say that anything is wrong.
“What in the hell is going on with him? He’s been different since we got back from Thanksgiving. Are you guys fighting or something?” Apparently I’m not the only one that has noticed the change in him.
My throat constricts, and I feel the tears building. I try to suppress it all, cramming my emotions back down and swallowing down the lump, but when Campbell puts her arm around me, the tears begin to fall. “It’s because of my dad,” I choke out. “He went with me to look at the case file, and it freaked him out. He pretended to get sick while we were there and took off. Then over break, I never once heard from him. I called once to check on him, and he never called back. Now, since we got back, it feels like he’s just going through the motions. It’s like he’s just waiting for me to get pissed and break it off with him so he doesn’t have to be the bad guy.”
“Oh, Viv. I don’t understand this any more than you do. Before the break, the only time I can think of when he was off was when he was late for lunch. You know, the day of the Amber fight? Do you think maybe he’s doing drugs or something? I mean, his behavior is completely one-eighty.”
“What?” I shout. “No, I don’t think he would ever do that. I really think it is because of my past. It makes me feel like such shit, Cam. I mean, he told me he loved me that morning, and by that afternoon, I was old news, a pity case that wasn’t worth his time.” I wipe my renegade tears as my anger begins to take over. We approach the front door to the dorms, and I don’t want anyone to see me crying. I try to wipe the running make-up from under my eyes while Campbell holds the doors open for me. I look at her to give the mascara approval. She tilts her head and waves me on, which tells me we need to hurry to our room; I look like questionable shit.
“I don’t know what his motives are, or what’s he’s expecting from you,” she adds, pushing the elevator button. “But you can’t keep doing whatever this is. You need to talk to him, and if he can’t give you the answers you need, well, then maybe it’s time that you take a break from each other. We leave for Christmas vacation next week. You cannot spend an entire month worried about this shit; you would just torture yourself.”
The doors open and we both step onboard. Cam pushes the button for our floor while I step to the left and lean against the side wall. “You’re right; I’ll try and talk to him tonight when I get back from the concert.”
The door opens and Brooks is standing there, waiting to ride it down. When he sees me and my mess of a face, his eyes widen and he immediately steps towards me. “What happened? What’s wrong, Viv?”
I move out of the elevator towards Brooks, but my eyes don’t meet his; instead, I look to Cam for support. She waves me on and heads towards our room, but I have no intention of having this conversation in the hallway, or right now for that matter. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Brooks, but I’d really like to talk about it. Now is not a good time; I realize that you’re headed somewhere, and I’m upset and a mess. But tonight, after the concert, I plan to come over so we can talk. All right?”
“Okay,” he sighs as he steps around me to hit the button for the elevator that has since left him. “No matter how this conversation goes, though; I need you to know I never lied when I said I love you. I need you to believe that, Red.” The tears invade my eyes again, and my ability to speak is constrained, so I nod. “I’ll see you later then.” He walks onto the elevator and leaves me standing alone and confused once again.
I dressed up for the concert, thinking it would be a nice touch for opening night. Jen forced me to wear stilettos, which sucked big hairy balls at a punk rock concert. I spent the entire time thinking about what I was going to say to Brooks when I went over to his room. But now, as I ride the elevator up to our room, the time has come for our big talk and I still have no idea what I’m going to say. I follow everyone into our room, Will included, drop off my purse, and head next door. I don’t bother changing, or even taking off the death shoes; I want to get next door and figure out whatever the hell is going on.
Other than that first night, I’ve never considered knocking, but with how things have been the last few weeks, I feel compelled to be invited in, as opposed to just walking into his dorm. I reach my fist up to tap on the door, but before my knuckles can hit the wood, it swings open. Shock spreads across my face. When I see the figure standing before me, I take what might be the hardest breath I’ve ever had to take. I was expecting to see Brooks, open arms or not; that’s who was supposed to be behind that door. Instead, a tousled version of Amber, with smeared make-up and tangled hair is there, with a smug expression that only Jen could wipe off.
“Oh, hello. Veronica, is it?” she says, straightening her shirt. “I think you might be a little early.”
I try to make my mouth move to correct her, to yell at her, anything, but I just stand there like a victim of the situation. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get sound past my lips.
She giggles at me. “He’s in the shower right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure he can see you soon. But I can’t imagine why; he got more than he could handle this evening,” she adds. I am in complete disbelief at what I’m hearing, what I’m witnessing. When I still say nothing, she huffs and tries to move around me. Just before she gets past me, she leans in close and whispers, “You had to know revenge was coming; trash like you never wins.”
I allow her to walk a step or two before all of my fury bubbles to the surface, and I detonate. “Amber,” I spit out, turning to face her once again. I shake with rage as I step towards her; the heartache that settled into my stomach transforms into a giant ball of confidence and wrath. I ball my fist, and when she turns around, I push all of my weight forward, swinging as hard as I possibly can in the direction of her face. I’m not exactly aiming at any one spot; anywhere on her pretty little face is sufficient. My knuckles land on her nose; I can feel the bones crunch under the force of my hand. She flies backwards and stumbles to the floor with a squeal; blood begins to flow from her nose.
I move over her, and she flinches. “I’m glad you feel good about what you did this evening; it made it all the easier for me to show you how we take out the trash in the country, even rich, city trash,” I state simply before turning on my heel to walk to my room.
When I turn around, my roommates and Will are standing in my doorway watching my confrontation. Their mouths are hanging open, and their eyes are as wide as saucers. Well, except for Jen, she’s smiling, almost gloating. “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I tell them as I push through the group to get to my room. I’m humiliated and hurt; talking to anyone about what happened would only make this despair worse.
My body collapses onto my bed, and the gravity of the situation slaps me in the face. The pain of my pulsing bloody hand is nothing compared to the pain in my devastated heart. He promised not to break me and he did it anyway. I can barely suck in breaths between my cries. I bury my face in my pillow to muffle the sound because I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself than I already have. I’m mad at myself for letting my guard down and believing that Brooks could be different. He is a liar and a cheater. I make a promise to myself that I won’t make the same mistake twice.
Brooks
I hear the argument in the hallway and wait. I knew it would happen, just not like this. I thought of every possible way to end this, but this was the only way I could think of that would make it permanent. I listen until silence returns to the floor and begin my walk to Vivian’s room. I tried to prepare myself for the yelling, the crying, for all of the scenarios of her reaction when I set this up, but it still tore my heart out to do it.
I don’t get very far. Instead of Vivian, Will is waiting for me. On some level, I was expecting that, too.
“You have lost your fucking mind if you think I’m going to let you knock on this door,” Will growls at me. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his scowl is so deep, it looks like his eyebrows are touching. He looks intimidating as fuck, and if I didn’t need this to happen, I would consider running for my life. “I don’t care what strings your dad has to pull; I want you out of our room by the time we get back from break. Vivian shouldn’t have to see your sorry ass, and frankly, I don’t think I could stomach seeing you either.”
“I don’t need to talk to her, Will. She is never going to give me another chance, and I don’t want one. I came to talk to you.” His arms fall to his sides, and the ridge between his eyes flattens out as his eyebrows begin to climb into his hairline. I’ve been dreading this discussion because it would tear my heart from my body, but for once, I need to do the right thing. “Also, I already have new living arrangements; none of you guys will ever have to see me again.”
“Brooks, I came out here to kick your ass; what the fuck is going on here?” he asks me, and I ignore him. I need to get through this speech, and if a deviate, I may lose my nerve.
“Just listen, please,” I tell him. “I need you to promise that you will take care of her and that you’ll love her with your every breath every day, because it’s something I couldn’t do. I know that eventually she will love you, but I need to know that she will have everything that she deserves. If you can promise to do that, then you win, Will; you’re the better man.”
I stand back and let him think about what I’m saying. “Can I speak now?” he asks and I gesture for him to continue. “We need to get something straight. What you did tonight was beyond fucked up, especially because I’m getting the sense that you did it on purpose for the sole reason of chasing Vivian away. I don’t know why, and I really don’t give a damn. All that matters to me is that girl in there, who is heartbroken. You don’t need to ask how I would treat her, or if I can promise to love her. I don’t care if it takes every day of the rest of my life to put her shattered heart back together; I would be grateful just to have the chance. And I certainly wouldn’t throw it away for whatever dumbass reason that you have going on. I am completely and madly in love with her, and no slutty sorority girl in a tight skirt would change that. I’m not you, Brooks. I will always be the better man, and I don’t need you to say it for me to know it.”
When he finishes speaking, he walks back into the girls’ room and slams the door behind him, leaving me alone in the floor commons area. Every one of his words is true, but it doesn’t make them sting any less. They shred whatever bits of my heart I have left, and I stand there a wilted man. This was the right thing to do, and it hurts like hell. I only hope that the pain deadens over time, because now, it’s all I have–a forever without my Clover.
