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Chapter 16
Gideon stared at her, frowning. As if he were confused. “What… why…” He studied her for a long moment. “Why did your name change? Was your family in witness protection? Some other government program? Did you… did you escape from a cult or something?”
Alex swallowed. Took a deep breath. She’d told him the first part. She might as well tell him the rest. If she didn’t, she was pretty sure he’d look her up. And he had access to all kinds of government databases, thanks to his FBI connections.
Stepping away from him, she disentangled her fingers from his. If she was touching him, holding his hand, she’d never get it all out without falling apart. Compassion was very seductive. It made her want to open up. Talk about things she never talked about, except with Mary. And then Sierra.
The caring and concern in Gideon’s eyes made her willing to expose her tender underbelly, trusting he wouldn’t savage her.
“I was born in Seattle. My parents named me Britney Wilson,” she began. “My father left when I was about four. I barely remember him, and I never saw him or heard from him again. I think he paid child support for a while, because my mother worked at an office. I was in day care, then school. She was home at night.
“That all changed when I was about ten. She quit her day job and started working nights. I was alone in the evening, which was okay, because I did my homework and watched television. I asked her why she started working at night and she told me she needed a better paying job because my father had stopped paying child support.” She swallowed. “Mom never told me what she did, but I suspect she worked at a bar. Or worse.”
The memories from that time came rushing back, and she moved two steps farther away from Gideon. If she saw pity in his expression, she wouldn’t be able to handle it.
“My mother started dating a guy named Frank when I was twelve,” she said, and Gideon’s face turned to stone. Clearly, he suspected what was coming.
She swallowed, choking back the bile that rose in her throat whenever she thought about Frank. “When he was at our house, he spent a lot of time watching me. He creeped me out, and I told my mother I didn’t like him. Didn’t want him to come over. But she told me he was ‘helping her out’. And that he wasn’t going anywhere. I realized later he was giving her money. For access to me.”
Gideon grabbed her hand. Held it tightly. “You don’t have to go on,” he said, his voice grim. “I can figure out what comes next.”
Alex studied his forbidding expression. The rage in his eyes. And she let her shoulders relax. He wouldn’t judge her. He’d realize she’d done what she needed to do. Clearing her throat, she said, “You’d be right, except that he never actually got what he wanted from me. He started touching me, and I hated it. I told him to stop, and he’d back off for a while. Then he’d start again. I told my mother what he was doing, and she said he didn’t mean anything by it. He was just a friendly guy. But the way he was touching me was way more than friendly.
“So I stole money from his wallet one night. Maybe sixty dollars. He had a lot of cash, probably several hundred dollars, and he never asked about the missing money.”
“He gave you access to his wallet?” Gideon asked, frowning. “Did he think that would make you more open to his touching?”
“Not on purpose.” Alex swallowed the ugly memories. The shame. The guilt. “He and my mom drank a lot when she got home from work. I sneaked into her room one night while they were passed out and grabbed some of his money. Neither of them woke up, and I hid the money in my room. It was so easy that I kept doing it. I don’t know if he ever realized I was stealing from him.” She shuddered as the memories came rushing back -- the terror. The rage at Frank. And the shock of her mother’s betrayal.
The lonely, desolate feeling of being alone. With no one to turn to.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to continue. “With some of that first money, I bought a small pocket knife. I kept it with me all the time -- in the pocket of my jeans during the day, beneath my pillow at night. He was getting bolder -- touching my breasts. My ass. I’d always knock his hand away, but he’d just smile. I told my mom, but she kept telling me he was just being friendly.
“I wasn’t stupid. I knew what was going on. Knew those weren’t ‘friendly’ touches. So I started a ‘go bag’. Kept it with me all the time. I was pretty sure I’d have to run away at some point. Because my mother would have let him rape me.”
“Oh, my God, Alex,” Gideon said, staring at her with shock and horror in his eyes. “And you were twelve.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Thirteen when I left. Frank came into my bedroom one night while my mom was at work. I never slept well when he was in the house, and I woke up when he opened the door. He got into bed with me and started groping me. I had my knife, so I stabbed his hand.” She sighed. “It was a small knife with a small blade. It probably didn’t do a lot of damage, but Frank let me go. Fell out of bed, then backed out of my room. Yelling about how my mom was going to punish me when she got home. And he was going to help.
“That was the night I left.”
Gideon pulled her slowly into his arms. Hugged her close, stroking his hand down her back. Pressing kisses to her head. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “So angry that happened to you.” He leaned away to study her face. “Where did you go?”
“The first night, I got a motel room. With the money I’d stolen from Frank. That felt fair. Right.” She sighed. “It was a complete dump, but I thought it was paradise. No Frank. No having to sleep with one eye open. I stayed there two nights, then I left. I’d taken more than three hundred dollars from Frank, but I knew it wouldn’t last if I stayed longer in that motel.”
“How long were you on the street?” he asked, tucking her hair behind her ears. Studying her, as if assessing how she was handling telling her story.
Alex relaxed. He probably knew how bad it was for street kids. All the horrible things than could happen to them. “Six months,” she said. “I slept behind a dumpster at the back of a grocery store for a while, because the store would throw expired food into the dumpster. Then one day, three guys cornered me there. I used my knife again and got away, but I was shaken. And hungry, because my food source was gone.
“I was down to my last fifty bucks, and I was starving. So I went into a small grocery store and stole some food. A loaf of bread. Some bologna. Some cheese. I shoved it all into my backpack, and of course the owner noticed what I was doing.
“I knew I couldn’t escape. She’d call the cops. My mom would pick me up. She’d hand me over to Frank, and he’d rape me. I tried to beg, but I couldn’t get any words past the lump in my throat. I’d run as far as I could. But I’d gotten nowhere.
“The woman in the store didn’t yell at me, though. Didn’t call the police. She came around the counter from her cash register and stared down at me. Said something like, ‘You’re in trouble, aren’t you, hon’? Her voice was kind, and so were her eyes. I started to cry.” Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered her first encounter with Mary. “She reached for me slowly, and when I didn’t jerk away, she pulled me into a hug. Rocked me until I stopped crying.” Alex swallowed. “It was the first time I’d been touched since I ran away.”
“What did the woman in the store do then?” Gideon asked, his gaze riveted on her face. As if he was experiencing everything she told him.
“She said her name was Mary Conway, and asked if I was hungry. When I said I was, she heated up a frozen pizza and gave me a slice. I shoveled it into my mouth so fast that she took it away from me. Told me not to eat so fast because I’d just puke it back up. I finished most of the pizza, and Mary just watched me. Finally she said, ‘I know you don’t trust anyone, and you’re right not to. But I’d like to help you. My… someone I knew would be about your age. And I’d want someone to help her if she was in your position. If you’d like, you can come home with me. I have a spare bedroom you can use’.”
