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“Rory?” she cried, reaching for him as he pushed open the car door.
“Goodbye, Davee.”
“Rory?”
But he slipped through the hedge of bushes and disappeared into the darkness. McDonald’s had closed. Everyone had left. The lights had been turned out. It was dark, and Davee was alone. No one heard her bitter sobs.
Chapter 34
“I know who killed Lute.”
Hammond’s statement shocked Alex and Frank Perkins into silence, but it lasted no more than a few seconds before each began firing questions at him. Primarily, Frank wanted to know why Hammond was here in his home study instead of at the police station.
“Later,” Hammond said. “Before we go any further, I must hear Alex’s account of what happened.” Turning toward her, he leaned forward. “The truth, Alex. All of it. Everything. Tonight. Now.”
“I—”
Before she could speak, Frank held up his hand. “Hammond, you must think I’m an idiot. I will not allow my client to tell you a damn thing. I want no part of this clandestine meeting you have forced me into. You have behaved in the most reprehensible, irresponsible, unprofessional—”
“Okay, Frank, you’re not a priest, remember?” Hammond said. “You’re not my Sunday school teacher, or my daddy, either. Both Alex and I have acknowledged how inappropriately we’ve handled this.”
“A peach of an understatement,” Frank remarked drolly. “The consequences of your intimacy are potentially disastrous. For all of us.”
“How are they disastrous for you?” Alex asked.
“Alex, less than five minutes ago, you admitted to doing everything within your power to get Hammond into bed with you. If you have any defense at all, your being with Hammond that night is it. But how effective will that testimony be in light of your background according to Bobby Trimble?”
“How can that be held against me? It’s behind me. I’m not that girl anymore. I’m me.” She looked from him to Hammond. “Yes, every ugly detail of Bobby’s statement is true. With one exception. I never went beyond letting them look at me.”
She shook her head emphatically. “Never. I safeguarded a small, private part of myself, in case my hope for a better way of life was ever realized. There was a line I would not cross. Thank God I had that kernel of self-preservation.
“Bobby exploited me in the most despicable way. But it took years for me to stop blaming myself for my participation. I believed that I was intrinsically bad. Through counseling and my own studies, I realized that I was a classic case, an abused child who felt that I was responsible for the mistreatment.”
She smiled at the irony. “I was one of my first cases. I had to heal myself. I had to learn to love myself and consider myself worthy of others’ love. The Ladds were instrumental. They had left me a legacy of unconditional love. I came to understand that if they could love me, being as basically good and decent as they were, I could bury the past and at least accept myself.
“But it’s an ongoing therapy. Sometimes I have lapses. To this day, I ask myself if there was something I could have done. Was there ever a time when I could have stood up to Bobby and resisted? I was so afraid that he would abandon me as my mother had, and I would be entirely alone. He was my provider. I depended on him for everything.”
“You were a child,” Frank reminded her gently.
She nodded. “Then, yes, Frank. But not the night I placed myself in Hammond’s path and hoped that he would respond to me.” Turning to him, she said with entreaty, “Please forgive me for the damage I’ve done. I was afraid of just this, of what has happened. I did not kill Lute Pettijohn, but I was afraid of being accused of it. Afraid of being considered guilty because of my juvenile record. I went to Pettijohn’s hotel suite—”
“Alex, again I must caution you not to say anything more.”
“No, Frank. Hammond is right. You need to hear my account. He needs to hear it.” The lawyer was still frowning his concern, but she didn’t heed the silent warning.
“Let me go back a few weeks.” She told them about Bobby’s sudden and unwelcome reappearance in her life, how he had shared with her his scheme to blackmail Lute Pettijohn. “I cautioned Bobby that he was way out of his league, that he would do well to leave Charleston and forget this ridiculous plan.
“But he was determined to see it through, and equally determined that I help him. He threatened to expose my past if I didn’t. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I was afraid of him. If he had been the same loudmouthed, arrogant, unsophisticated Bobby that he’d been twenty-f
ive years ago, I would have laughed at his threats and called the police immediately.
“But he had acquired some etiquette, or at least he affected good manners and social decorum. This new Bobby could more easily insinuate himself into my life and decay it from the inside. He did in fact appear at a lecture, passing himself off as a visiting psychologist, and my colleague never questioned his authenticity.
“Nevertheless, I called his bluff and told him to leave me alone. I suppose he got desperate. In any event, he contacted Pettijohn. Whatever Bobby said to him must have made an impression, because he agreed to pay one hundred thousand dollars in exchange for Bobby’s silence.”
“No one who knew Lute Pettijohn will believe that, Alex,” Hammond said quietly.
“On that I agree,” Frank added.
