Mending Fences

Grady read between the lines. “He’s done this before?”

“I’d say yes. You know the pattern as well as I do. It’s not just about the sex. This is a guy who gets off on hurting women, the more innocent and defenseless the better. You have a name?”

Grady nodded. “And when this goes public, the shit is going to hit the fan.”

It was well past midnight on Saturday and Marcie had just finished cleaning up the kitchen, putting every dish and glass back into place, polishing every piece of chrome and mopping the floor for the second time that day, when the doorbell rang.

Worried that it would wake Ken and the kids, she hurried into the living room to answer the door. Startled to see two uniformed officers and two other people in plain clothes outside at this hour of the night, she was tempted not to open the door, but weighed her caution against the possibility that they’d wind up waking her family by continuing to ring the bell. She finally opened the door a crack, the security chain still in place.

“Can I help you?”

“Pinecrest police, ma’am,” one of the uniformed officers said. “We have two detectives from Coral Gables who’d like to speak to your son. Since they’re out of their jurisdiction, we came along.”

“I don’t understand,” Marcie said.

“You’re Mrs. Carter?” the female detective asked. “Evan Carter’s mother?”

Marcie’s breath lodged in her throat. “Yes, why?”

“We need to speak to your son,” she repeated. “Is he here?”

“He’s asleep. What is this about?”

“I’m Detective Lansing,” the woman told her. “And this is Detective Rodriguez. We need to talk to Evan. Would you get him, please?”

Though it was phrased as a question, Marcie recognized a command when she heard one. She tried to think what Ken would do. He’d probably tell them to go away and come back at a civilized hour, but Marcie had been brought up to respect authority. Four very somber police officers from two jurisdictions were more than enough to intimidate her.

“You’ll have to give me a few minutes,” she said at last. “He’s a sound sleeper.”

“No problem. We’ll wait,” the woman told her.

Reluctantly Marcie let them inside, then started to climb the stairs. After only a couple of steps, she turned back. “Maybe I should…” she began, her tone apologetic. “Could I see some identification?” She’d read stories about fake police officers, even in uniform, and home-invasion robberies. Even though she recognized the Pinecrest logo on the uniform and saw the marked car in the driveway, it was smart to be absolutely sure.

Without comment all four of them held out badges and ID, removing any doubt that they were exactly who they’d said they were. She almost wished she hadn’t asked. Until that instant, she’d been able to hold out a slim hope that this was all some hoax or maybe a case of mistaken identity.

Evan was a good kid. He always had been. Oh, he had a mouth on him. He was like his father that way, but he’d never given them any trouble. He’d never so much as put a ding or dent in the car, never gotten into mischief the way some of the other boys in the neighborhood had. His dad had seen to that. Ken was a stern disciplinarian and both her kids showed him a healthy amount of respect.

Thinking about that made this whole scene feel surreal. Once again she hesitated. “Why do you need to see Evan at this hour? Is he in trouble?”

For the first time, Detective Rodriguez spoke. “Ma’am, could you just get him? We’ll explain everything then.”

Filled with a sense of dread, she climbed the stairs. At the top she debated waking Ken but decided against it. Who knew what he would do or say? He had a quick temper and a sharp tongue. He tended to act first and think later. He might wind up making a bad situation worse. If Evan needed him, there would be time enough to wake him then.

Inside Evan’s room, she found him sprawled facedown across his bed with a sheet barely covering him. Sometimes when she saw him like this, it caught her by surprise. In her heart, he was still her little boy, not a full-grown man with broad shoulders and muscles toned by hours of training at the gym. His cheeks were stubbled with a day’s growth of beard and his blond hair, usually so carefully groomed, stuck out every which way. Seeing him reminded her of the way Ken had looked when they’d first met, way too handsome for his own good.

“Evan,” she murmured, her hand on his shoulder. “Wake up! Evan!”

He only moaned and buried his head under the pillow, just as he had for years when she’d tried to wake him for school. Marcie knew the routine. She yanked the pillow away and then the sheet, averting her gaze from his naked body as she did so.

“Wake up!” she commanded, shaking him.

“Wha…? Go ’way.”

“Get up now,” she said urgently. “There’s someone here to see you.”

He blinked up at her. “What? Who?”

“They’re police officers, four of them. Two local and two from the Gables.”

“Shit, oh shit,” he muttered, raking his hand through his hair.

Something in the panicked expression that flitted across his face terrified Marcie. Had there been an accident? Had he left the scene? Or drugs? She knew there were kids at college who used them, but Evan had always been smart enough to steer clear. He’d wanted his football career too much to risk messing it up by experimenting with drugs or steroids. Ken had hammered that lesson home years ago.

“Do you know what this is about?” she asked. “Should I get your dad?”

“I’ll handle it,” he said, grabbing a pair of jeans and yanking them on, then snatching up a T-shirt from the end of the bed and pulling it over his head. “Don’t come downstairs, Mom, okay? I’ll take care of this.”

Marcie fought to stay calm. “I don’t like the sound of this, Evan. I think someone should be with you. Do I need to call a lawyer?”

“I said I’d handle it,” he snapped. “Go to bed.”

Marcie winced at his tone. She should have been used to it by now. Ken used that exact same tone when he spoke to her, but it was relatively new coming from Evan.

“You’re not going down there alone,” she insisted. “Now either I come with you or I get your father.”

“Whatever,” he said belligerently.

Marcie followed him downstairs. At the bottom of the steps, the two detectives stood in his path.

“Evan Carter?” Detective Rodriguez asked.

“Yes. What the hell is this about?” he demanded, his voice radiating antagonism.

Again, he sounded so much like his father, it gave Marcie goose bumps. Instinct kicked in. She was about to try to smooth things over with the detectives, but realized they were oblivious to his attitude and totally focused on their own mission.

“You’re under arrest for the rape of Lauren Brown,” the woman said quietly. “Anything you say can and will be used against you…”

Rape! Marcie was incredulous. This simply couldn’t be happening. As the detective read Evan his rights, Marcie fought back the bile rising in her throat and ran upstairs to wake her husband. She couldn’t shake the sound of the word rape. It kept echoing in her head.

“Ken, get up now! The police are arresting Evan. They say he raped somebody.”

She didn’t have to say it twice. Ken bolted out of bed with a curse and ran for the stairs, Marcie right on his heels. She heard Caitlyn’s door open and knew that her daughter had been wakened by the commotion as well.

“Mom, what’s going on? Why is there a police car outside?”

Marcie couldn’t bring herself to explain. “It’s all a terrible misunderstanding,” she said. “I’m sure that’s all it is. Your father will straighten everything out, but I need to go with him.”

“Go with him where?” Caitlyn asked, her eyes wide. “It’s the middle of the night.”