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“I’ll wait.”
There was a dramatic sigh, followed by “She’ll probably kill me, but okay.”
Dwight answered the door to the penthouse and stood aside to admit Griff. “This isn’t one of her good days.”
“Mine, either,” Griff returned grimly as he followed Marcia’s neighbor into the spacious living room, where Marcia was reclined on her sofa. She appeared to be sleeping, although it was hard to tell because her head was swathed in bandages.
“She had surgery?”
“The first of many. Three days ago. Her nose had to be rebroken. She’s still got a lot of pain, but they said she was well enough to come home.”
“Generally, how’s she doing?”
“Not very well. She—”
“I can hear you, you know.” Her voice was muffled by the bandages and her jaw still had limited range of motion, but she was her droll self, and Griff took heart in that.
Injecting some levity into his voice, he said, “Hark! The mummy speaks!”
“I’ve got lobster bisque simmering on the stove,” Dwight said. “She’s cranky as a mama bear, but be sweet to her.” He patted Griff on the arm as he passed on his way into the kitchen.
Griff pulled an armchair closer to the sofa and placed it where Marcia could see him without having to turn her head. She said, “If you think I look bad now, just wait till the bandages come off. I’ll be a real freak show.”
She was wrapped neck to ankles in a bathrobe, but he could tell that her lush curves had been diminished. He wondered how much weight she’d lost just since he’d last seen her. He reached for her hand and pressed a kiss onto the back of it. “You couldn’t be a freak show no matter how hard you tried.”
“I’d hate for my own mother to see me like this. Not that she will, since she disowned me years ago.”
“So much for how you look, how do you feel?”
“Stoned.”
He laughed. “Good drugs?”
“I could make a fortune selling this stuff. If only it weren’t against the law. But then so is prostitution.”
“Speaking of breaking the law…” He looked directly into her eyes, which peered at him through a slit in the bandage. “I’m going to the police about Rodarte.”
Her reaction was immediate. “No!”
“Listen to me, Marcia. I know what he did to you. He bragged to me about it not an hour ago.”
She stared up at him for a long moment, then closed her eyes as though to shut out him, her memory, everything. Griff felt the shudder that went through her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“He hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“Bad.”
She opened her eyes then. “I’m a whore. I’ve done everything. But always when I was in control. Having it forced on you is different.” She closed her eyes again. “Believe me.” When she reopened her eyes, she said, “Try explaining that to a cop.”
“I will. You were raped.”
“And he’ll say it doesn’t matter.”
