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“Yes, me.”
“I never hurt you. I looked after you,” he tells me and I don’t really care if he did or didn’t. He fed me, yes, but he took my dignity and every ounce of belief I had. “I looked after you,” he repeats as if he’s hoping that I’m going to get him out of this.
“Were you the one to render her unconscious when she entered her house?” Hudson grounds out and Kevin’s silence is telling.
“So you did hurt her,” Jagger says slapping the back of his head.
“I’m sorry,” he tells me, he’s not sincere and his apology means nothing to me. “But, you’re wrong about my boss, he wouldn’t have hurt you or your friend.”
“He did, he killed Lacey and he didn’t even give a shit. Who is he?” I demand, my voice stronger than I thought it would be.
“You’re wrong. Why are you lying?” he screams at me, his body lunging forward as if he’s trying to reach for me. Jagger’s hand clamps down on his shoulder and pulls him back.
I lose it, the bullshit he’s spewing out, it’s making me so mad. I’m in a red haze of anger. “I’m not lying and your boss isn’t a good man. Good men don’t hold people hostage. Good men don’t shoot people and good men certainly don’t rape people,” I yell, each word reverberating off the walls.
“No,” He whispers.
“Yes,” I reply, my chest heaving as I try and regain my breath.
“Who?” he asks trying to wriggle out of Jagger’s hold.
“Me.” I’m not afraid anymore, I’m ashamed but not afraid. I hear the deep intakes of breath from the men around the room at my confession. I stand up taller, I’m not letting them see that I’m affected. “Who is it?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” I don’t understand, if he said he’d never tell that would be one thing but to say he can’t, that just pisses me off.
“Because I can’t.” He sounds defeated, lost almost.
It’s in that moment that I realize why he won’t. “You love him, that’s why you can’t.”
He nods, “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t apologize to me, I don’t want nor need your apology. Can you live with yourself knowing that the man you love killed someone? That he raped someone?”
Tears well in his eyes. “I have to believe that he’s a good man, that he didn’t do those things.”
My anger boils once again, this is what I never wanted to happen. Someone to believe that I lied. I take a step closer to him, Hudson’s hand reaches out and clamps around my wrist. I’m not to take another step. I grab a hold of his hand and squeeze it like a lifeline. “He did, he grabbed a hold of my leg and pulled me down the mattress. He took my clothes off and no matter how hard I kicked, how hard I begged he wouldn’t listen.”
“Stop,” he begs.
“Yes, that’s what I said and he wouldn’t stop, he didn’t care what I said, what I wanted. He took from me. He hurt me. He pushed inside of me, violating me and he didn’t care that he was hurting me, that he took something from me, something I’m never going to get back.” I can’t stop talking, everything is spilling out of me.
“Stop it.”
“Why should I? He never stopped, not until he climaxed, why should I stop to make you feel better? You’re hiding a rapist and a killer. Why can’t you tell us who it is?”
“I can’t,” he reiterates.
“Tell me!” I scream at him as Hudson pulls me against his chest.
“Martin,” he cries. “His name’s Martin Jackson.”
Hudson’s arms around me convulses. “M
artin Jackson?”
I turn in his arms and bury my head against his chest. His arms tightens around me, and I love that he’s not pushing me away.
