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The more she told him, the more incredulous Ledge became. She wasn’t describing Rusty as Ledge had last seen him that night, getting out of his car and taking the canvas bag of cash with him. He hadn’t been battered and bruised. He’d been his whole and healthy, arrogant, asshole self.
“Did he tell you what had happened to him?”
Her eyes remaining on him, she said softly and with empathy, “Yes, Ledge, he did. There’s no need for you to pretend anymore. I know what you two did that night.”
Chapter 20
That night in 2000—Crystal
What in God’s name happened to you?”
After letting Rusty in through her bedroom window, Crystal spoke in a stage whisper out of fear of waking up her mother. Morg was gone for good, but her mother still slept fitfully.
Rusty shouldered Crystal aside and went to sit on her bed, cradling his arm against his abdomen. “Get me something to drink.”
“I don’t have any alcohol.”
“Nothing? None?”
“Nothing. None.”
“Who doesn’t keep a bottle for emergencies?”
“Since Morg was put away, Mother’s gone apostolic.”
Rusty swore under his breath. “Percocet?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that. Your arm looks broken. You need a doctor.”
“No.”
“But—”
“Not now! Okay?” He grimaced with pa
in. “You must have aspirin. Advil?”
“I’ll drive you to the ER.”
“For godsake, Crystal, will you give it up? I can’t go right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t.”
“What happened?”
“Your boyfriend happened, that’s what.”
“Ledge?”
“Ledge,” he repeated, mimicking her astonishment. “You gotta have a fucking aspirin.”
“Shh! All right.”
She left the room and slipped down the hallway, moving as silently as possible past her mother’s closed bedroom door. Using only the nightlight in the bathroom, she took a bottle of Advil from the medicine cabinet and rinsed out the toothbrush glass. She made it back to her bedroom without being detected.
In her absence, Rusty had switched on the bedside lamp. In its dim glow, he looked ghastly. He had smeared the blood dripping from his mouth across his chin. Drops of blood speckled the front of his shirt. He continued to hold his left forearm against his middle.
