Aleah refuses to say what happened, no matter how many times I’ve asked her, but she doesn’t need to. Her torn shirt, the red mark on her cheek, and her smeared make-up screams exactly what happened. Some punk kid put his hands on my sister, and as soon as I find out who did it, he’ll realize it was the last mistake he’ll ever make.
Leaving Wendi’s house, Charlotte didn’t hesitate to climb into the back seat with Aleah. We were on the road for five minutes before I heard her from the front seat quietly ask Aleah if she was raped. I didn’t verbally hear Aleah’s answer, but I had my rearview mirror pointed at them and I saw her shake her head. I can’t say for sure, but I’ve always been good at spotting lies, and I don’t think Aleah’s negative response was a lie.
Attempted rape can be just as devastating and horrifying as the actual act. The bastard will pay as soon as I get a name.
Shutting off my car, I get out and open the back door on Aleah’s side. She climbs out, but almost falls because her legs are so shaky. I scoop her into my arms as Charlotte gets out after her. My anger triples when her skirt rides up her legs a few inches, and I notice bruises in the shape of fingers.
It’s late, almost midnight, and knowing Aleah has a key, Dad’s probably already locked down the house. Using the arm I have under Aleah’s legs, I jangle my keys to Charlotte.
“Unlock the door for me, will you?” I ask.
She grabs them, scurries in front of me, and a second later, I’m walking through the door. I’m surprised to see the light on in the living room—Dad’s usually in bed by eleven—so I head that way. He meets me at the doorway leading into the room. When he spots Aleah in my arms and the condition she’s in, his brows form a V.
“What in the hell happened?” he growls, his eyes darting all over Aleah.
My voice is tight when I answer. “She won’t say, but, obviously, someone put their hands on her.”
“Aleah,” Dad starts, but she cuts him off.
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” she says. “You can put me down, Bryan.” She sniffs. “I’m okay.”
I start for the couch, but she waylays me.
“Here, please. I want to shower and go to my room.”
I set her down on her feet. She’s more sturdy than she was when she got out of the car, but that still doesn’t alleviate my concern.
“You need to tell me what happened, Aleah,” Dad says, and from his voice, like me, he’s barely holding onto his control. I’ve never been a violent person, but I’m only a thread away from unleashing my fury.
Aleah takes two steps toward the stairs before she faces Dad.
“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.” She looks down at her clothes before lifting her head and looking at each of us, ending with her eyes on Dad. “I can’t hide the fact that something happened, but I want to forget that it did. I wasn’t raped, if that’s what you’re concerned about. It was over before it started. I just want to shower, go to bed, and forget this night ever happened.”
Dad calls her name, but Aleah doesn’t stop her ascent up the stairs. His hands twitch against the side of his thighs and the vibes coming off him suggests he wants to go after her. As a detective, he’s being forced to fight back his instinct to get answers for a crime that was obviously committed. What makes it worse is who the crime was against. Aleah may not be his biological child, but I know he cares for her like she is.
“She’ll be okay, Dad,” I say quietly, as we watch her until she’s out of view.
“If you’d like,” Charlotte says from behind us, “I can go up and check on her. See if I can get any answers. It might be better coming from a female.”
Dad turns away from the stairs, just now realizing there’s a strange woman in his house.
“Who are you?” he asks. The question isn’t asked harshly, only with curiosity.
Charlotte raises her hand. “I’m Charlotte. I was with Dr. Erikson right after he got the phone call from Aleah.”
“Dr. Erikson?” Dad looks at me in question as he shakes her hand.
“She’s one of my patients,” I explain.
“And you were with one of your patients tonight?”
“We weren’t together, together,” Charlotte explains before I can. “We were just at the same place. When I saw him leaving, I knew from his face something was wrong. I wanted to help when he explained what Aleah said.”
With what happened to Aleah, I haven’t had time to reassess what happened with Charlotte tonight in Whiskey’s. Not that anything did happen. Not really anyway. I refuse to think about the line I crossed by openly watching her, even if it was a thin one. As wrong as it was, I’m glad she was there with me when I picked Aleah up.
Dad looks back to the stairs. “If you wouldn’t mind going up there to make sure she’s okay and talk to her, I’d really appreciate it. It’s the third door on the right.”
“Of course.” Charlottes quickly glances at me before she moves to the stairs.