Dancing With the Devil (14 page)

Mackenzie walked up the stairs to the police department and pulled the heavy door open. She passed the big grey bin imploring people to dispose of their prescription medications properly, and eyed the wanted posters in the hallway, wondering what the people did to get pinned up onto this particular bulletin board. Mac imagined a photo of her father there and hugged the filthy dress closer, like a shield. She followed the instructions on a little sign that said “Ring to be admitted” and waited. Beyond the glass doors, officers attended to business behind a high counter, protected from prying eyes by a smoked glass window.

The buzzer sounded, and as she walked in, the window slid open to reveal an officer holding a desk phone. He held his hand over the mouthpiece and said, “I'll be right with you.”

The counter was so high there was room for another bulletin board below it decorated with crinkled and torn flyers. One was missing the top left corner. But they were all calling out to victims of crimes. “Network of Hope,” one promised. “Know a Family in Need?” another asked. The biggest was a blue poster with a purple headline that read “Crime Victims Can Get Help.”

“May I help you?”

Mackenzie looked from the blue poster back up at the officer behind the window and swallowed, surprised by the sudden tears filling her eyes. It seemed so clear now. She reached into the front pocket of her backpack and felt the toy knight. She took it out and gripped it in her free hand while she dipped back into her pack and withdrew what appeared to be a filthy red and grey polka-dotted rag. She placed it up on the counter between them. Some of the polka dots looked more like dried blood.

The cop asked, “What's that, miss?”

“Evidence,” Mac answered.

“Evidence?” he repeated, and looked more closely at Mackenzie. “Has a crime been committed?”

“Yes,” she said, holding on to the knight. “I need to report a rape.”

He turned away from Mac and said something to another cop behind the window. The door to the waiting area opened, and a woman officer came out holding a plastic bag with her dress in it.

“I'm Detective Billie Smith. Let's go into an office where we can take your statement in private.”

They walked down a short, darkened hallway, Mac a few paces behind, her eyes glued to the bag. “EVIDENCE” was stamped in huge red letters on the side, somehow making Mac's actions very real, and very terrifying. She couldn't look away. If she did, she wouldn't believe this was happening. And she might freeze.

Things she hadn't even considered started bubbling to the top of her mind. What if Lily had to testify? How could she even go through that? What if her father went to jail and they were left with no money? What if Barb wouldn't let her live with them because of what she'd done? Or
hadn't
done? She hadn't protected Lily. She should've told sooner. Of all people, she should have known.

But she couldn't freeze. She was done looking away, ignoring the past. She'd wasted too much time already. In fact, she had to make this happen faster. Every minute Lily was with him was one minute too long. One minute he could be doing … whatever he wanted. Every minute Lily was with him was on Mac.

After going through the formalities of getting all of Mackenzie's data, like name, address, date of birth, and writing down everything as slowly as humanly possible, Detective Smith finally asked, “Okay. When did this rape occur?”

Mackenzie shook her head and blew out a burst of air. “Look, mine happened a long time ago, but my sis—”

“Oh. Well, there
is
a statute of limitations. Why don't you tell me your story? Just start at the beginning. You can tell me everything from start to finish. Do you mind if I record it so I get everything right?”

It had already been twenty-five minutes since the cab had dropped her off. It was starting to get dark.
Who cares when her birthday is? Let's just grab up Lily before he does anything!

“Look, my sister is in danger. He's going to do it to her, too! Please just go get her, and I can tell you everything after! You're wasting time! Please!” Mac was aware her voice was rising, and she was starting to lose it, but she couldn't bear it if anything happened to Lily today. Now.

“Our main goal is to keep you and your sister safe,” the officer said. “But you still haven't told me who you're accusing, or what happened. I want to do this fast too, but I still need to make sure we do this right. We don't want the accused to get away, get away with it, or disappear with your sister. So let's start with who. Who are you accusing?”

“Stan Douglas.”

The cop started to write in the form in the little box and then stopped and looked up at Mac. “Stan Douglas? The guy who donated all the money to the beach restoration?”

“Yes.”

“And the Police Benevolent Association?”

“Yes.”

“And … who is Stan Douglas to you and your sister?”

“He's our father.”

Mackenzie watched the officer's professional training kick in as she tried to mask her reaction but knew the look she saw under the surface was the one she'd be seeing as the news spread. Her father was known here
and
at home. She didn't care. As long as she could get Lily away, that's all that mattered. She saw the expression soften, and the cop said, “Hon, where is your sister now?”

“She's at the Father-Daughter Dance with him at the club. Please, we have to get her away!
Now
!” Thoughts of the barbecued hot dogs, and the special dress Lily got, and her own ruined polka-dotted dress sitting on the desk encased in protective plastic were too much. Mackenzie stood. Pacing back and forth in the little room, she started babbling. “You don't understand, he'll hurt her, and my stepmom isn't home, or she's coming back from a trip or I don't know when she's coming back, and I tried to call her but she'd freak if I left a message because I'm not even supposed to be back from my trip, and she could be home now or maybe not now or later, but Lily's in danger and we have to go get her or—”

Officer Smith was handing her tissues with one hand while dialing her phone with the other. Mac blew her nose and wiped the tears away as she listened to her say, “Yeah, that's him. Uh-huh,” and, “Thanks, just keep an eye on them.” She hung up and turned to Mac.

“That was my partner. Your sister is safe and seems to be having a nice time at the dance. We need to be careful here. I don't want to tip your dad off just yet. My partner's there with his little girl, too, he knows your dad from the PBA, and he won't let him out of his sight until we get there. Now that we've bought a little time to get our ducks in a row, we can make sure you and your sister never have to go through this again, okay?”

After Mac finished giving her statement, they got hold of the woman on call at the child services department they shared with the small town next door. Because of the holiday, she wouldn't be available for a couple of hours, so it was decided they'd head back to the house to see if Barb had returned yet, and bring her back to the station. They'd have Barb go to the dance and get Lily, saying she wanted to see her in her dress. While Barb took Lily to primp in the ladies room, Stan would be arrested and taken in. But first they had to see if Barb was even home.

Mackenzie never knew police cars had such small back seats, and her knees ached from being jammed into the hard plastic that separated her from the cops up front.

“You wait here while we go see. Got it?” The two cops got out of the cruiser and slammed their doors shut.

The questions pounded, but she was pretty sure she already knew the answers.

Could anything be done now?

Doubtful.

Was it already too late?

Probably.

Could she have done something to stop it?

Absolutely.

And the one she feared most:
Was it all her fault?

Yes.

Mackenzie watched from the car as the officers approached the house and rang the bell. The light from inside suddenly flooded the front step as the door opened. Mac could see Barb's small silhouette turn toward her as the cops gestured to the patrol car where she was sitting. Mackenzie heard her make some sort of sound—she wasn't quite sure what it was, but it didn't sound good. Before they could stop her, Barb darted across the street and ran straight toward Mac, who sunk back into the seat as far as she could.

Barb was crying and was fighting to get the door open. “It's not right! Why didn't you tell me? My baby! My baby! It's not right!”

Mac was pressed against the opposite door now. The glimmer of hope that she'd finally have a mom evaporated as she watched Barb.

Barb didn't believe her. Of course she didn't believe her. How
could
Mac be right? She
must
be wrong
.
It's ridiculous. What kind of freak would do that to his own daughter? No one would believe her. Plus, she knew Barb blamed her. She would hate her now, and why wouldn't she? Why hadn't she told? She could've saved her sister.
What had she been thinking?

And now Mac had a bigger problem: How could she save Lily if Barb didn't believe her? And where would she live? And what would happen to Lily, because for sure her father would get away with it. He's the big businessman who gives tons of money to the police. Maybe she could take Lily and they could run. Run away someplace far where no one knew them and—

The cop from the first car had jumped out of his cruiser and was running toward Mac. She could see the other two cops running toward her also as Barb struggled to open the door. They were hollering at her to stop, and Barb just kept sobbing, “My baby! My baby! It's not right!”

Then Mackenzie heard more screaming, and it was a full four seconds before she realized she was the one doing it. It was the shrill scream of terror that hadn't escaped all the times her father came into her room. She screamed, terrified for Lily, for herself, for the frustration that she couldn't just go get her sister and beat the shit out of her father. It was a scream of fury, and hatred for what he put her through, and her failure to protect her sister.

Barb got the door open just as all three officers reached the car. They hung back as she crawled in and wrapped her arms around Mackenzie and rocked her. She rocked and rocked until Mac couldn't scream any more and just tears were left.

The whole time Barb just kept whispering, “My baby … my poor baby … my sweet baby …”

Four Months Later

Mac stopped unpacking what seemed like the hundredth moving box and stared out the window. She wasn't used to buildings with flat roofs, but since it didn't really snow in Santa Fe too much, they didn't need the steep angled ones she grew up with on the East Coast. She switched her focus from outside the window to the window itself, where Lily had used seven long pieces of Scotch tape to stick yet another picture of a Thanksgiving turkey she had made from her handprint.

Her first day at her new school, she'd shown a girl in her kindergarten room how to draw it. That night, in the middle of dinner, the doorbell rang. It was a neighbor holding a cake, welcoming them to the building. It turned out it was Lily's new friend, Jenna, and her mom. They stayed for coffee and dessert, and the girls explained in long detail how your thumb makes the neck and head of the turkey and how your fingers make the feathers.

There was a lot of giggling. It all seemed so normal.

Ding!

“If that's Charlie texting you again, just thank the boy and be done with it already!” Barb called from her room as she folded up a carton and tossed it into the growing pile.

Mac looked out her own door straight through to Barb's across the hall. To get to their single bathroom, Mac hung a left out of the bedroom she shared with Lily and walked five paces. The kitchen and living room were ten paces in the other direction. It was a teeny, tiny apartment.

A teeny, tiny, safe apartment.

Mac answered, “We had a deal.”

“Look at it this way: we'll have more room in this apartment if you'd unpack it!” Barb didn't have to explain was “it” was. “It” had arrived three weeks earlier, the day they'd moved in. “It” was the huge unopened container that held Mac's RoadCap, with Charlie's name and return address in the corner.

Mac looked down at his text. As usual all it said was
Just take it.

“He'd be in the hospital—or worse—by now if you hadn't stood by him, Mackenzie. It's his way of thanking
you
. Let him do that.”

Mac texted back:
only if u come out n visit

Charlie:
for u anything

Mac:
who
is
this?

Charlie:
v. funy funny

Mac:
seriously

Charlie:
seriously

Mac:
ok then TY. guess i shd unpack it then!

Charlie:
u better start riding or i'll lv u in the dust—gotta go—talk soon

“Guess I'm going to be finding out about some of these bike trails around here, Barb.” It made her smile when she heard Barb sigh a relieved “Finally!” under her breath. She knew Barb had a special spot in her heart for Charlie. She had gotten to know him pretty well, considering all the time he spent at their house in the months since the night of the dance—that's what they always called it. Just “the night of the dance.”

Apparently Charlie had put on an Academy Award–winning performance and held up the trip long enough that no one even realized Mac had left until Barb called
them
. Otis and Ma didn't know the circumstances, of course, and were mortified at being so duped, despite Barb assuring them that the kids felt they had no other choice. Otis and Ma felt
they
had no choice and arranged to have Charlie's father come to pick him up.

Mac was in a bubble in the days after her father was arrested the night of the dance. Barb wouldn't let her or Lily out of her sight, and that was just fine with all of them. They closed up the beach house and returned home, shuttling back and forth to child services, the police, and the lawyers. Mac was so busy and distracted with Lily and all the adults hovering around them she didn't want any contact with the outside world. All her friends were still on the trip, so she had put it out of her mind. It was like her only reality was here and now, and Lily, and Barb, and being safe. Finally.

Mackenzie hibernated.

She kept Lily close too, and on the second day home, they were lying on their backs in Mac's bed.

“Peas?” Mac asked. Lily flipped around so her back was against Mac's stomach.

“In a pod,” Lily answered.

They cuddled like that for a while, not saying anything.

If Lily were facing her she didn't think she would've been able to hold it together. Mac had to swallow a few times before she could speak. “I have a new kiss for you, Lily.”

“What kind is it?”

“It's a very sad kind.” Tears rolled down the side of Mackenzie face and into her pillow. Her voice cracked as she told her sister, “It's an ‘I'm sorry' kiss, Lilybean. I'm sorry what Daddy did to you. I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

They lay like that a little until Lily turned over and faced Mac. “So can I have the ‘I'm sorry' kiss?” she said, making Mac smile between her sobs.

Mac reached over her head to the shelf and took the knight and handed it to Lily.

“What is that?” Lily had asked.

“A knight.”

“Like in the books with the princesses.”

“Right. But knights're strong, Lil. This one's for you.” Lily ran her finger over the little molded plastic helmet. They fell asleep in each other's arms, the knight between them, like a guard keeping them safe.

Except Charlie hadn't been safe. When Otis and Ma called for him to get picked up, his dad came to get him. They stayed at a local hotel that night, but instead of going home in his dad's car the next morning, he went home in an ambulance.

For the rest of the summer Mac kept up her schedule, this time with Charlie in tow, shuttling back and forth between child services, the police and the lawyers, the court, and bringing Charlie to physical therapy. And to their Kids in Crisis group. Which they felt obligated to mock in private, but knew they needed more than food, or water, or air. Barb looked at Charlie like a hero, because without his help, Mac wouldn't have been able to get home to save Lily. Charlie had never been admired so much by anyone, so he sheepishly enjoyed the attention, especially the chocolate chip cookies Barb was always baking for him. He could do no wrong under their roof.

When the local news covered the trial, Charlie stood by Mac through the worst of it, along with Frankie and the rest of the Geeks when they got back. And Mac was there for him, too.

Leaving Charlie was the second-hardest thing Mac ever had to do.

“We're not making an entire turkey are we, Barb?” She only had to raise her voice a little bit for her to hear her. Another advantage to a teeny, tiny apartment. “I don't think I can take eating leftovers until Valentine's Day.”

Barb looked up from the pile of clothing she was unpacking and smiled at Mac through the open doors. Lily was on the floor drawing turkey after turkey.

“Actually, we were invited next door.”

Lily looked up from her turkeys. “To Jenna's house? Are we going there, Mama?” After Lily had shown Jenna how to draw “hand turkeys,” she became Lily's self-appointed expert on all things Santa Fe, explaining everything in a very patient, authoritative way, like the guide who'd volunteered at the museum one decade too many. But Mac could tell they were both loving their “assigned” roles and was happy Lily had already made a best friend. Mac was thankful for that—so what better place to spend Thanksgiving?

Barb said, “Do you guys want to? It could be a fun night.”

Just as Mac was about to answer, Lily jumped up, her body stiff, eyes wide.

“Where's my knight? I can't find my knight!”

Barb and Mackenzie looked at each other just as Lily let out a bloodcurdling scream. She and Barb were by Lily's side in an instant.

“Kenzie!” Lily cried, “I can't find her!”

“She's here,” Mac whispered, wrapping her arms around her sister. Barb and Mackenzie made sure they always knew where the knight was after Lily's first few episodes. Their therapist had told them different kids react in different ways, and was helping them help Lily. Helping them help each other. Barb handed the knight to Mac.

“See? Don't worry, Lilybean. She's here.”

But Lily didn't seem to hear her. She pushed Mac away and ran to an open carton in the living room that was almost the same size as she was, and began shaking it.

“Where is she? Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?” Blindly screaming and shaking, tears streaming down her face. Mac gently pried her fingers from the box, and scooped Lily up, still hysterical, tears running down both their faces now, Mac whispering to her the whole time. They sat on the floor, surrounded by half-opened moving boxes, rocking and crying, just like Barb had in the patrol car, until all that was left were Lily's hiccups.

Mac kept rocking her until Barb gave her the “okay” signal with her finger and thumb, but for them, it was actually their sign for sleeping, because Lily's eyes had closed.

“You should've gotten two of those. One for yourself, too. You faced the worst, and you survived,” Barb told Mac. “I made you something.” She disappeared for a minute and came back with a large flat box and sat down on the floor next to Mackenzie. “You don't have to look at it if you don't want to. You don't even need to keep it. I made one for Lily, too, for when she's older.”

Barb took Lily out of Mackenzie's arms and sat with her on the floor, leaning against a big, unopened carton. Mac lifted the lid of the box Barb had just handed her. Inside was a scrapbook. On the first page there was a photo of Barb with a voice bubble cut from yellow construction paper. In it she'd written, “You're my hero.”

Mac's eyes filled with tears. She hung her head, and the tears fell on the book.

Barb whispered, “You are.”

Mackenzie turned the page. Barb had pasted the news articles that had appeared in both the
Cape Times
and the
Wheaton Gazette
. There were the photos of her father being led from the courthouse, in handcuffs, trying to hide his face. But there was no hiding. Everyone knew who he was and what he had done.

Because Mackenzie had told them.

The lawyer said that convictions in sexual abuse cases were hard to get, but between the DNA on her old dress and her testimony, he was convinced to plead guilty. Not only was the “younger sister,” as the article referred to Lily, spared from testifying, but she would be an adult before Stan Douglas got out of prison.

Mac turned the page, but there was nothing there.

“Your past is what it is, sweetheart. But your future isn't set yet. It will be what you make it.”

Mac brushed her hand over the blank pages and looked forward to filling them.

“But to move forward, you
have
to forgive yourself,” Barb said.

Mac had no idea how to do that.

Like so many times in the past few months, though, Barb sensed what she was thinking.

“I know you think you're strong enough to deal on your own. But we all need Dr. Newman … she knows what she's talking about. So say it.” When Mac didn't answer, Barb insisted, “Tell me. Whose fault was it?”

“His. He chose to do it. I'm just a kid. It wasn't my fault.” Mac repeated the words she found so hard to accept. She knew it in her head, but her heart would take a lot longer to believe it.