Page 91 of The Woman I’ve Become

“He took me inside and turned me over to the man. This man called himself my keeper. Casey never came back, and it was years later, after someone killed the old bastard, that I escaped. My plan was to go to the police or to the FBI, but when I did some research online, I saw that Casey had never been captured. All the cases of murdered girls were still unsolved. Under the circumstances, I wasn’t about to risk letting anyone know where I was. With him still out there . . . I knew I wouldn’t be safe. It wasn’t until that article came out in The New York Times the other day that I realized I had to do something. So I dyed my hair red, and I came here to wait for an opportunity to talk to Julia. I hoped if anyone saw me hanging around, they would just think I was her or a relative and not some intruder.” She shakes her head. “It sounds foolish now when I say it out loud.”

Rick says, “What did you believe you had to do?”

She turned to me, eyes big with worry. “I knew I had to find Julia and warn her about Casey. About everything. She had no idea what was going on beyond her insulated world.”

I try not to take offense at her description.

“I never saw him again after that last morning he and I were together,” I say, picking up the story from there. “He dropped me off on the road near my house. My parents were so strict, I didn’t dare have him pull into the driveway. But before I reached my driveway, someone came out of the woods—out of the darkness—and put something over my head. The next thing I knew, I was in a trunk, and then I was injected with a drug of some sort. When I regained consciousness, I was locked in a basement.” I shudder. “You know my story. I don’t have to walk you through that nightmare. The rendezvous with Casey is the only thing I left out. I had no idea he went to Wendy’s after that.”

He nods slowly. “But you heard Casey drive away after dropping you off?”

I fix my face into one of uncertainty. “I thought he drove away, but it was like four in the morning. I was completely focused on getting to my house before my parents got up. And, to be honest, I was probably still a little drunk.”

Now he stares at me for a long time. As if he’s trying to see what I’m hiding. “Why did you not mention this Casey Duval in your statement twenty years ago?”

“He was just a boyfriend—a guy older than me that my folks would have freaked out about. I wasn’t going to tell anyone I had been dating him and suffer that wrath.” I sag with defeat. “I had no reason to believe he was involved with the Judge case or any other dubious activity. He was just my boyfriend. Considering what he did to Wendy that day”—I look to my old friend—“I suppose I was the lucky one.”

Rick scrubs a hand over his face. “Have either of you ever seen him again?”

We both shake our heads.

“But he has to be the one who leaked those lies to the Times,” I insist. “He’s the only person who knew I didn’t mention him to the police. Even Wendy didn’t know, until she came here to find me and we talked everything out.”

“Now we’re terrified that he’ll come after us,” Fake Wendy says. “We may be the only two women alive who can identify him.”

“It’s possible,” Rick says, then pauses to finish off his scotch, “that Duval was just a middleman. He was young. No record.”

And there’s his first misstep. Another knot twists in my stomach. How does he know Casey didn’t have a record? Damn it. I knew he was hiding things about the investigation.

As if the question played out across my face, he says, “We had witnesses who saw the two of you together,” he clarifies. “I was able to find a neighbor who lived across the street from him. I learned his name and not much else. Casey Duval had no criminal record—not then, not now. He has no history at all, as far as I could ever find.”

“You never said anything.” I wonder if he realizes just how telling this admission is.

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I figured you were keeping him a secret from your parents. It didn’t seem necessary to bring him up, so I protected you. Duval was irrelevant to the case anyway.”

Now I’m downright pissed off. The bastard was the case. I glance at Julia, and although her expression warns me not to go there, I can’t not go. “A few years ago,” I say, “the past started to needle me worse than ever. It was like PTSD flashbacks. Maybe because I had a child and the world looked different. Anyway, I hired a private detective to look into Casey Duval.”

Rick’s gaze narrows. “What did he find?”

“Hold on a sec.” I go into the kitchen and retrieve the file. I tucked it away in a drawer after we called Rick. I didn’t plan to tell him about it, since it looks pretty bad that I knew this back when I was on my justice-wielding spree.

But that, too, is part of the story that will never be made public, if I can help it.

I take the file to Rick. While he has a look, I sip my water. Wish it was bourbon. Not a good idea since I need a clear head.

He finally turns to me, his face pinched with something like disbelief. “Why have you kept this a secret?”

“The Judge hasn’t been active for nearly twenty years. Everyone believed he was dead. So I figured there was no point turning the information over to you or anyone else. But now, after hearing Wendy’s story”—I look to Fake Wendy—“I believe he just moved beyond showcasing his work as the Judge. Like I said before, maybe this whole Judge thing was just a cover for what he was really doing.”

Rick looks around the room, his mouth agape as if he doesn’t know what to do or say. “Does Phillip know about this?” The pitch of his voice is considerably higher now.

I can’t decide if he’s actually shocked or just shocked that I knew all this.

“No. Just the three of us.” I look around the room then too. “Is that enough to send him to prison?” That’s the expected question anyone in this position would ask.

He holds up both hands in a whoa gesture. “Maybe. The question is whether I can get the people who need to see this to believe you thought the Judge was dead or whatever, and that you didn’t willfully withhold evidence.”

“Why would I?” I stare at him as if there has never been anyone as innocent as me. “He or one of his friends abducted me and left me in a place where I was raped and beaten for days before I escaped.” I look to Fake Wendy. “You have no idea the horrors that were done to poor Wendy during her captivity. These are sick people, Rick. They need to be stopped. All of them. Starting with the man at the house Wendy told you about. Maybe he has more information about Casey.”