Chantel was a bit more difficult.
After several tries, he ended up with, You’re fine. Welcome to the family. Even if it’s only temporary. Next time you sleep in my bed, I expect to be in it. Please advise.
He waited a couple of long minutes.
And didn’t receive a response back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I FEEL GUILTY, being spoiled like this,” Chantel said as Julie put a plate of quiche and a bowl of fresh fruit on the table in front of her. “I would have been happy to help.”
“So would our housekeeper,” Julie said. “Her name’s Louisa, by the way. I’m sure you’ll be meeting her soon. Anyway, I thought it was important that she was home to fix breakfast for her kids and see them off to school before coming here, so I do breakfast and she has dinner ready before she leaves. We fend for ourselves if either of us is here for lunch.”
“I still could have helped.” Chantel made a mean pancake. She liked them with chocolate ice cream on top instead of syrup, but she could adapt.
“I love to cook,” Julie told her. “So did my mom. She cooked most of our meals when I was growing up, much to Daddy’s chagrin. I look forward to my mornings in the kitchen.” She grinned as she took her seat.
And Chantel wished for about the millionth time that she’d met Julie on the street or in school. Anyplace where they could have been real friends.
The woman had spunk. And a spirit that, while damaged, was stronger than just about any she’d ever encountered, including her own. And Jill’s.
In another life, Julie would have made a great cop.
“Last night, you said you had something to talk to me about,” Julie said, as though she’d read Chantel’s mind.
She and Jill used to do that. Know what the other was thinking.
This was getting weird.
Then she remembered where she’d been heading when she’d derailed the night before.
“I know how it feels to have someone get away with a horrible crime,” she said, taking a bite of delicious broccoli quiche minus her usual appetite.
Surely that wasn’t going to change, too, the random thought popped up. She liked eating. It brought her pleasure.
And...back to topic. Jill’s killer had died before he could be brought to justice. That bugged Chantel. He’d made her suffer. He should have had to suffer, too.
“You do, too,” she said, testing Julie’s waters.
Julie nodded, without looking broken.
“So...as I was working on the script for the library event, something occurred to me and I can’t let go of it. You said David Smyth was going to be there.”
“With his wife, yes.”
“He’s married?”
“For six years,” Julie said. “They have a couple of kids now. A boy and a girl.”
A little girl. Whose father was a rapist. A memory flashed before her eyes. The touch of a hand against her breast. Groping. Stealing away all innocence. And faith in her mother, too. How could a woman trust anyone to look after her if her own stepfather could do such a thing?
Did Smyth’s wife know? Was he rough with her, too? The questions rose up in a black cloud before her mind’s eye.
Julie’s fork had stilled.
Chantel was going to have to tread carefully here. “We have to stop him.”
She saw Julie’s hand start to shake, heard the clatter as the utensil fell to her plate.
He’s still hurting people. He has more victims. She couldn’t tell Julie any of that. Johnson had no way of knowing it.
“I know you can’t say anything, Julie. I’m not asking you to be directly involved.” Not yet, anyway. Not unless a prosecutor needed her testimony. But that was a bridge she might never have to cross.
Julie wrapped her arms around her shoulders; she seemed to be shrinking in on herself.
Then Chantel was a kid again. Telling Jill that her mother had just blamed her for what her stepfather had done. Begging her friend to let her spend the night at her house. She couldn’t go back home to face those two.
“You have to take your power back,” she said aloud. Exactly what Jill had said to her that night.
Chantel had stayed not only that night with Jill, but several after that, as well. Defying her parents and even the truant officer—a fake, she later found out—who came looking for her, she’d hidden in Jill’s bedroom until that day her mother had visited Jill’s mother, begging to see Chantel. Her mother had known where she was all along, which was why she’d never reported her missing or had the police looking for her.
That day, her mother had shown her the divorce papers she’d filed and begged her forgiveness. The ex was giving her everything—walking away with nothing—as long as no charges were filed. He still denied the whole thing.