“They didn’t tell you how? Was he ill? In an accident?”
“They just said he was dead.”
“Gina, would it be okay if I talked to your parents?”
“Why would you do that?” She visibly tensed.
“I certainly won’t, if you don’t want me to. But sometimes it helps me get a feel for the situation, to understand why this happened, why they allowed it to happen.”
“Because they didn’t care. They were never home. They left me with him.”
“Did you tell them?”
She shook her head. “Part of me wanted to. Part of me…”
“Did your uncle threaten you? Did he say he would hurt you if you told anyone?”
“No. He was already hurting me. He did say that this was a secret between us, that I was special to him, and that it was special to have a secret like ours.”
I nodded. She was a classic
case. She longed for attention and affection, and when she couldn’t get it from the people she wanted it from, her parents, she took it from wherever she could. The attention from her uncle, though painful, was at least attention.
“So you didn’t tell your parents. Can you tell me why?”
“Like I said, part of me wanted to, but…part of me liked having a secret from them. Part of me… Oh my God, was this all my fault? Could I have stopped it if I had told them?”
I stood and walked over to her so she could feel my closeness. I gently touched her on the forearm. “No, no, never think that. None of this is your fault. But it was attention, even if it was unwanted attention. And I understand what you mean. You were a young child, and this was something that was yours.”
“Yes. That’s exactly it. Oh my God, was there a part of me that actually wanted it?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But not the sexual part. The close part. The being important to someone part.”
She swallowed visibly, nodding.
“At least he’s dead, and you’re safe now.”
“It’s funny. I know he’s dead, but I get phone calls sometimes. Someone calls and hangs up. On my caller ID, it just says ‘number not available.’”
My hackles rose. “Gina, I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“I want you to ask your parents how your uncle died.”
“I don’t want to talk to my parents about this. They never really took me seriously.”
“I understand. But it’s important that we know what happened to your uncle.”
“Do you think there’s a possibility that he’s not dead?”
I shook my head, knowing full well I was lying. “I doubt that’s a possibility. But the more knowledge you have, the more you can be certain inside.”
“All right. I’ll ask them.”
* * *
I shot straight up in bed.