Wild Justice (Nadia Stafford 3)

I told Emma I was taking off again. Then we dealt with the body and went back to the lodge to pack. By the time I came down the stairs, half an hour later, Jack was waiting in the car. I flew out the lodge door, flung my bag into the trunk, and settled into the passenger seat with a sigh.

Jack said, "Look like you ran a marathon."

"I got a call just as I went to pack."

"Wasn't reporters, was it?" he asked as he pulled from the lodge lane.

"Believe me, I wouldn't have held you up for that. It was one of my cousins."

"You guys keep in touch?"

I fastened my seat belt. "We do. I'm still in contact with most of my extended family. It's the immediate family that doesn't want anything to do with me."

Jack made a noise in his throat. I'd barely spoken to my mother since she remarried and moved to the States. Same with my brother. There was no precipitating fight, no ongoing feud. We just drifted apart, and the greater the physical distance, the less need for contact. I think we all embraced that excuse. My mother had never made any effort to know me, even as a child. Nor had Brad. Dad had been my real family, and he'd died before the Wayne Franco incident.

I continued, "I still see Neil a few times a year for dinner, and since his divorce, he's been coming up to the lodge with friends. He lives in Burlington, so it isn't too far."

"Between Toronto and Buffalo. Right?"

I nodded. "Which is a segue to a question. Would you mind if we stopped in? He was at the station when I escaped from Aldrich, and he stayed with me while my dad and uncle went back for Amy. He was young, but he was family, which means he'd know . . . whatever there is to know."

"About you. The rape."

I flinched at the word. I tried to avoid it myself. I talked about "what happened" or "what Aldrich did." I didn't say the word. That was, I think, part of the problem. Use euphemisms and not only did it avoid the ugly reality of what happened, but it diminished Aldrich's culpability. He hadn't raped me. He'd just . . . done something.

"I want to understand what happened," I said. "Did Neil know? Did I tell anyone? Why wasn't Aldrich charged? How did I get raped and spend twenty years not knowing? Maybe he can fill in some of the blanks, because there are a whole lot of blanks."

"Just tell me where to go."

CHAPTER 20

I called Neil to warn him I was coming. It was past one when I rang his doorbell. It was the same bungalow I'd visited for the past fifteen years. He'd gotten it in the divorce. His ex had a McMansion in the suburbs with their two kids and her new husband. Fifteen years married to a vice cop had added up to too many nights when she knew he was out on a case and didn't know a damned thing about it except that it almost certainly involved drugs and guns and all kinds of shit that ate away at him and left her jumping every time the phone or the doorbell rang. My cousin loved his career, and his career made her fall out of love with him. It happens. Too often.

The last time I'd seen him he'd been carrying some divorce-stress weight, but that was gone now. Maybe a sign he'd met someone. Or maybe just a sign he was trying. It was good to see.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey yourself." He swung open the door. When I stepped in, he gave me a hug. Then he glanced over my shoulder. "You brought company?"

"A friend. We're driving down to Buffalo for the weekend."

"Would your friend like to come in?"

"He's fine."

I waved to Jack--for Neil's sake, so he didn't think I was being rude. Then Neil led me past the living room and into the kitchen. Stafford tradition. The living room is for guests; the kitchen is for family.

We chatted for a while. That, too, was tradition. A Stafford had to be polite and friendly, even with family. So we drank coffee and ate Oreos and chatted until talk turned to Aldrich.

"I don't want to give that son of a bitch any due," Neil said. "But I'm glad he confessed before he went. It makes it easier."

"It does."

"Have you heard from your mom?"

"Nope."

He swore under his breath.