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Juliet still looked uncertain, perhaps afraid. She drew in a shuddering breath. “Very well.” Again, she paused and Mia could tell the memory still slammed her with incalculable pain. “All right, I woke up one morning and I felt hungover, from the wine I’d drunk the night before, I thought. I wanted to blame the alcohol for the soreness, too, the hazy memories I had after drinking it. Then I began to remember and I clearly saw both Alex and Kent in my bedroom with me, not here, in my bedroom at my cottage. Both of them. At first I simply couldn’t accept it. Both Alex and Kent in my bedroom? How could that be? But then I remembered hearing them talk and laugh, and I saw them over me and now they were talking about what each of them wanted to do, and what order would be most fun—” Her voice fell off a cliff.
Juliet swallowed. “Regardless, you can’t write that, Ms. Briscoe, there’s no proof. There was never any proof and there never will be.”
Mia said, “You’ve lived with this for two years.”
“Yes, every single day for two years.”
Mia said nothing, watched Juliet pace the length of an exquisite antique Tabriz carpet.
“Did you accuse him, Juliet? Or was it you couldn’t hide your rage, so Alex guessed you knew anyway? I bet that gave both Kent and Alex a few sleepless nights.”
Juliet jerked around. “I did tell Alex, in this very room. Do you know he never missed a beat? He tried to hug me, but I stepped back. He tried to soothe me, he told me I’d had a bad dream, that what I believed I remembered was ridiculous. We were going to be married. He loved me, but I knew him well enough to know he was lying, and he knew me well enough to know I knew it. He flushed, and his eyes darkened, and I realized he could hurt me. I was glad I met him here, my parents upstairs, and I wasn’t alone with him. I told him I never wanted to see him again, threw my engagement ring back at him. He told me I was a fool and he left. Since that day I haven’t spoken to either Alex or Kent.”
Mia studied Juliet’s face. “But time passed and when you said nothing to anyone else, Alex realized you wouldn’t be a threat to him. He knew if you did accuse him and Kent, he could tell a very different story—that he was the one who broke it off, and that your story was revenge. They’ve left you alone only because they were certain you couldn’t hurt them.”
Juliet said finally, “The photos—I could testify the photos look like Alex and Kent, but I can’t really be sure. Any accusations I could make now would only cause a hideous scandal. I love my mother and my father very much and I would never put them through that, nor would I ever want them to think they’d somehow failed to protect me. And my father, I think he would kill Alex.”
Juliet straightened, looked down at her watch, her voice now brisk. “My mother will awaken soon. Good-bye, Ms. Briscoe. I-I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Serena’s mother and father are very sorry, too, Ms. Calley.”
Juliet’s face froze, then she slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry about them, too,” she said.
Mia took out a card, laid it on the lovely Victorian coffee table. “We both know now Alex Harrington and Kent Harper are serial rapists, obviously with no qualms, no scruples, seeing as Alex was perfectly willing to roofie you and share you with Kent. And they’ve killed someone, a twenty-year-old girl so smart, so bright, she lit up a room when she walked into it. She died that night they decided to have their fun. I doubt either of them worried much about it. Do they even remember that night? I doubt it. They don’t deserve your silence, even to protect your family. Call me, Juliet. We can help each other make this right.”
