"Start here," he said. "I'll show you passages. There's no reason to read the whole thing. It's not ever going to help. But if you decide you have to, I won't stop you. I'd just . . ." His gaze locked on mine. "I'd really rather you didn't."
I nodded and looked down. The entry started at the top.
Nadia came by with her cousin today. As usual, it was the cousin's idea. I play along because I know it's the only way to get within twenty feet of Nadia. But I'm not interested in the cousin. She's a little tease who pretends to be a slut and probably hasn't even let a boy feel her tits yet. Plenty of those around. Nadia's different. She's a good girl. The police chief's daughter. So sweet and shy she won't even look me in the eye. Never had a girl like that. But I bet I could.
I heaved breaths and it was a minute before I could speak. "All right. So he thought about it, but that doesn't mean . . ."
Jack turned the page to another entry.
It went just like we planned it. The cousin told her dad the wrong time to pick them up at the train station, so he was late, and I just happened to be driving by to offer the girls a ride. It alm
ost didn't work, though. Nadia's cousin really had to talk her into the truck and for a minute, I thought she wouldn't do it. But she did. Anything to protect her cousin. If she only knew that her cousin set the whole thing up. Not for Nadia, of course. She thought she was getting me all to herself. Nadia was just along for the ride. Which was kinda true.
The page ended there. I reread it. "I don't . . . I can't believe . . ."
I didn't finish the sentence. I could believe Amy had set that up. Blinded by Aldrich's attention. Not setting me up--as he said, she hadn't known that was his plan.
Still it made no sense. I knew what happened. He'd taken Amy to the cabin to get her high and maybe to seduce her, and things went wrong, horribly wrong, and he raped and strangled her while I was tied up in the next room.
"What if it's fake?" I whispered, my gaze still on the page. "Maybe he wrote it later. Because I escaped and turned him in. Even if I couldn't get him convicted, I ruined his life. So he fantasized about . . ." Again, I couldn't finish.
"You can stop reading," Jack said.
I put my hand on the book, touching the words, as if making sure they were real. My fingers brushed Jack's. The sudden touch startled me and I flinched. But I didn't pull my hand back. I could feel the warmth of his hand against my fingertips, feel the weight of his gaze on me. Wishing he didn't have to show this to me. Wishing I'd say, "Okay, take it away." Knowing I wouldn't.
I curled my fingers under, pressing my hand up against his. His fingers wrapped around mine.
"I need . . ." I began. "Whatever part is . . . easiest."
He lifted our hands off the book, tilted the journal his way, skimming and flipping two pages, and then he stopped. He covered part of the page. I read the rest.
Nadia wouldn't smoke the dope. Her cousin did. The stupid twit tried to pretend it wasn't her first time, even as she coughed and gagged. When I tried to push it on Nadia, the cousin got mad at me. She had no problem bringing Nadia to a secluded cabin with a guy she barely knew, but she wasn't going to make her smoke up. Stupid twit. At first, I kept pushing. If Nadia smoked it, she'd relax and maybe I could talk her into it. But that's when I realized I didn't want to talk her into it.
The page ended there.
"Enough?" Jack said. I could tell he didn't expect me to say yes and when I didn't, he turned two pages.
This page began midline.
left the cousin, after making sure she couldn't interfere. I went back to Nadia. I put the knife to her throat and I told her what I was going to do to her cousin. But Nadia could protect her. Just be a good girl and give me what I wanted and I'd leave her cousin alone. She was crying, big tears rolling down her cheeks, but she didn't make a sound. I'd warned her not to make a sound and she didn't. She was a good girl, who did as she was told, and if I said she could save her cousin by giving me what I wanted, she'd do it. So I made her take off her jeans and her panties and lie on the floor, and I put the knife at her throat and
I pushed back and scrambled to my feet. The forest seemed to pulse, growing dark and hazy, the ground beneath my feet uneven, unsteady.
"I--" I forced the words through my tight throat. "I need to walk. I--I won't run away. I just-- I'm going to walk."
"Okay."
I started down the path walking as best I could on ground that seemed to rise and dip under my feet. Dimly, I could hear Jack behind me, staying his distance but keeping his eye on me.
I kept walking, seeing those words again, all those words, replaying in my head.
It didn't happen. Couldn't have happened. I wasn't the one he hurt. It was Amy. All Amy.
In the distance, I saw a shape through the trees. My neighbor's run-down cabins that he'd planned to fix up to rent and never did. This spring, I'd sleepwalked into one, thinking it was the cabin, that I was back with Amy and Drew Aldrich. I'd dreamed I was on the cabin floor, free from my bonds, blood on my thighs, trying to get my panties back on, to dress and run for help.
I'd told myself I was confusing my story with Amy's. But how many times had I had that dream? A nightmare where Aldrich told me to be quiet, told me to get undressed, made me lie on the floor, and held a knife at my throat.
Just like he'd described.