EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE (12 page)

Rachel flipped onto her back, pushed the hair from her face and rubbed at her mascara smeared eyes. “What did you say?”

Hollin smelled the scent of stale cigarette smoke on her. “You heard me. He wants to have sex with me, and I want to have sex with him.”

Using her elbows, Rachel pushed herself into a sitting position. “Of course he wants to have sex with you. What man wouldn’t want to have sex with you? You’re beautiful. But don’t be so stupid and naive, Hollin. He’s using you. He’s angry. How can you possibly think it’s anything more than that?”

“I don’t care why he wants me,” she said stubbornly, refusing to admit her sister’s words had hit a nerve. “All I know is that I’m going to sleep with him. Soon.”

Rachel’s blue eyes turned into hard, angry slits. “You can’t, you fool!” Before Hollin had a chance to respond, Rachel’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re not selling Mom’s land to
him
.” Hollin didn’t answer. “Oh my God. Don’t you see what he’s doing? He wants revenge. He’s trying to manipulate you. And he’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants.”

Hollin sat there, staring at her sister, refusing to listen. Rachel was wrong about Griffin. And then a thought flashed through her mind. “You haven’t once argued the point about Griffin being innocent.”

Rachel averted her gaze.

“You know something, Rachel. What is it that you’re not telling me?”

Their gazes locked and Rachel finally spoke. “You’re going to get hurt. I want to protect you, but I don’t know if I can. You survived the last time, but you may not survive the next time. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Without saying another word, Rachel rolled out of bed, wearing a tank top and matching panties. She shuffled past Hollin, into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Hollin’s subconscious thoughts came swimming to the surface. Who did Rachel think was going to hurt Hollin? Griffin? Burying her face in her hands, an even more terrifying realization washed over her. What if Rachel had known all along that Griffin wasn’t the one who had hurt her that night? And what if Rachel knew who it was who
had
hurt her? But that didn’t make sense because surely if Rachel knew something, she would have told her.

Hollin lifted her weary body from the bed and made her way across the room. She knocked on the solid wood bathroom door. “Rachel, we need to talk.”

“Go away. I’ve said all I’m going to say.”

Hollin tried the door knob, but it was locked. “Rachel, please.”

The door flew open suddenly and Rachel stood there, glaring at her. “You’ve always seen what you wanted to see. You think that everyone has good in them. Well, you’re wrong, Hollin. Some people are sick and evil and don’t give a damn who they hurt as long as they satisfy their hunger. And until you realize that, you’re nothing but an open target.”

Hollin touched Rachel’s arm, but Rachel shook free. “I need to think,” Rachel said, looking at a blank space on the wall. “I have to find a way to stop him.”

“Who? Stop who?” Hollin asked impatiently.

Rachel tossed her head from side to side, refusing to look at Hollin. “Get out of my room, and leave me alone!”

“But--”

“Get out!” Rachel flung her arm toward the door, and Hollin left quietly.

She had no idea who to trust at this point. She only half believed Rachel, and didn’t quite trust her. Her own sister. Maybe if she talked to Brad. Together, maybe they could get Rachel into some kind of therapy.

And then she laughed dryly. What a joke! Rachel had never listened to Hollin or Brad about anything, and Hollin doubted she would start now. But talking to Brad still couldn’t hurt.

Angela fought the urge to cry. She reminded herself she was a lady. A Hollinsworth. And Hollinsworths didn’t cry. They were too proud. Angela barely cried when her husbands had died.

Tom Pierce’s death had shaken her world. He’d left her with two young daughters to raise and barely enough insurance money to last a few measly years. Her spirits had sunk into a well of despair. And then John MacDougal had come along. He’d spoiled her even more than Tom had. There wasn’t anything that man wouldn’t have done for her.

But now they were both gone, and she was broke. At fifty-five she was hardly in a position to go husband hunting. Although, in spite of a few wrinkles, she was an attractive woman. Because she didn’t drink and she watched her diet, she still weighed the same as the day she’d married John, more than twenty years ago.

But she didn’t have the energy to start over. Finding a man, a good man, took careful planning, and lots of patience.

It seemed like only yesterday when John and Brad had moved in with her and the girls. There was a time when she’d thought she’d made a mistake, that marrying a man with a son was too much of a strain on their marriage. Brad hadn’t seemed happy that his father had remarried, and he was jealous of Rachel and Hollin, especially Hollin. He used to torment the girls, make them cry. Shortly after her marriage to John, Angela had told him it wasn’t working, and John had promised to speak to Brad. She’d almost suggested that Brad go to live with his aunt Marsha. But before she’d voiced her opinion, Brad quickly fell into step, and the five of them had become a family.

Brad and Hollin were ideal children, always aiming to please her and John. They got good grades, didn’t talk back, respected the rules of the house and the curfews set for them.

Rachel was a different story. She was rebellious, always picking fights with Brad. She would deliberately break curfew, didn’t care one iota about her grades or schoolwork, although her teachers said she was very bright. “Rachel doesn’t apply herself,” the teachers had said, year after year. “Is she getting enough attention at home?” one teacher asked. As if it were somehow Angela’s fault that Rachel didn’t care about school.

Angela was sick. She couldn’t help it that she couldn’t go to the games to watch Rachel cheer in high school, or that she’d missed Rachel’s plays when she was in grade school. Or that she was too tired in the evenings to help her daughters study. At least she was there for them. If the girls had a problem to discuss they could come to her. Unlike Brad’s mother who had run off and left him when he was barely a year old.

But now she felt as if she were under attack. By her own daughter.

“I tried to be a good mother,” she said, looking at Hollin. “But I was sick. You don’t know what it’s like to depend on people your whole adult life. It isn’t something for which I’m proud.” She leaned into the chaise, trying to make herself comfortable. She covered her legs with a cashmere wrap, tucking it in under her legs. “Do you think I wanted to be sick all these years?”

“No, of course not,” Hollin said. “I never meant to imply that you were a bad mother. I simply asked if you know why Rachel is so unhappy.”

Angela thought for a moment. “I have no idea. But if I had to guess I would say she’s a little jealous of you.” Hollin was definitely the prettiest of her two daughters. And Hollin looked a lot like Angela. Although, if Rachel would take better care of herself, she could be just as attractive.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? You always did better in school. Brad and you got along, while Rachel and Brad always argued. And then when you moved away, Rachel became depressed. I tried to get her to see Dr. Alexander. I thought maybe he could prescribe something for her. A sedative maybe.”

Hollin uncrossed her legs. She was sitting in a wingback chair across from Angela. “I moved away because you and John thought it would be best. You were the ones who picked the private school in Boston.”

“Well, you were so traumatized. You refused to leave your room except for the trial. We didn’t know what else to do with you.”

“I was raped, Mother. And I was fifteen. I was afraid to walk in my own backyard. Forgive me for being traumatized.”

Angela scowled at her daughter. “Now, there’s no need to behave hostily. I was simply saying that maybe Rachel never forgave you for leaving. The two of you were close.”

Hollin got to her feet. “I thought you might be interested in getting Rachel some help, but I can see I’m going to have to handle my big sister myself.” She started toward the door then turned around. “Please let me know when you make a decision about selling the land.”

Angela swallowed hard. The land Hollin wanted her to sell to that
convict
had been in her family for generations. And yet, according to Ed Townsend, Angela stood to lose everything if she didn’t sell the land. She loved this house more than anything. She couldn’t bear to give it up. The tears threatened again. “Are you sure that man, Griffin Wells, wasn’t the one who hurt you?”

Hollin’s expression softened. “I’m sure, Mom. Very sure.”

“But what do you think people are going to say when they find out I sold that man my land?”

“It doesn’t matter what they say. You and I both know you have no choice unless you want to lose everything.”

Hearing that, Angela had to agree. She couldn’t face the humiliation of losing her home. “Very well. Please call Mr. Townsend for me.”

Once Hollin left the room, Angela finally allowed herself to cry. She couldn’t remember ever suffering such an embarrassment. People in town would be talking, and she didn’t know if she could bear such shame.

But she supposed if Hollin could hold her head up high after what had happened to her, then perhaps, with time, Angela could as well.

#

Peterson and MacDougal was located smack dab in the center of an ancient, two-story building at the edge of town. A florist sat on one side of the accounting firm and a dentist’s office on the other.

Hollin announced herself to the young woman sitting behind the counter. She was petite, with curly black hair and dimples. She didn’t look any older than eighteen, nineteen at the most.

The woman picked up the phone and buzzed Brad, telling him Hollin was downstairs. “You can go on up,” she said, replacing the receiver. “First door on your left.” The woman looked flustered for a moment, then brought a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. Mr. MacDougal’s office is on the right. Mr. Peterson’s office is on the left.”

Hollin smiled at the woman’s nervousness. “Thanks,” she said and started to head toward the oak staircase.

“You aren’t going to tell Mr. MacDougal I screwed up, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s only my second day. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“I understand.” By the time Hollin reached the top of the stairs, Brad had poked his head through a doorway and was waiting for her.

“What a pleasant surprise,” he said, steering her into his office, which indeed was on the right. “Did Melissa give you a hard time since you didn’t have an appointment?”

“No, not at all. She was very pleasant.”

“Hmph. I find that hard to believe. In a day and a half she’s caused more havoc than a bunch of monkeys. She probably won’t last the week. Have a seat.” He nodded to one of the chairs around an oval glass conference table and Hollin sat down. “You wouldn’t be interested in working for me and my partner as a receptionist, would you?”

“No, thanks. I’m really looking for something where I can be a little more creative.” She stuck her keys inside her purse and placed her purse on top of the table. “Maybe Melissa will surprise you. She may turn out to be a hard worker.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Brad said without much conviction. He pulled out the chair adjacent to hers and sat down. “I just got back from having an early lunch with my partner, Mike Peterson. We needed to go over a few things now that April fifteenth has come and gone. Otherwise, you and I could have gone out for a bite.”

“That’s okay. I know you’re busy, but I wanted to talk with you about Rachel.”

His smile faded. “What about her?”

Brad and Rachel had never gotten along. Growing up, Hollin had always been the buffer between them. And Hollin knew Brad didn’t condone Rachel’s lifestyle.

“I’m worried about her.”

“Rachel can take care of herself.” He didn’t seem the least bit concerned as he scratched at a spot on his red necktie. “Damn. I paid forty bucks for this tie.” Brad then busied himself with checking the cuffs on his snowy white shirt.

“Have you noticed how thin she is? How much she drinks? That she barely spends any time with Chelsea?”

Ignoring his cuffs, he looked up and met her gaze. “She’s an alley cat. Trust me, nothing you do or say is going to change that.”

“I’d still like your help.”

He raised a brow and studied her. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’m going to try to convince her to go into counseling, go back to school, get a job. Something,” she said, out of options.

Leaning back in his chair, he gave a short laugh. “Good luck.” Then seeing the disappointment on her face, he straightened his shoulders and quickly sat forward. “Hollin, I know you love your sister, but she’s a lost cause.”

Hollin’s hands stilled in her lap, her knuckles turning white. “She’s insecure is all. Once we convince her of her true worth, I think she’ll feel better about herself.”

“Her true worth?” he mocked with a snort. “She’s hopeless.”

Feeling irked with Brad, she slid her chair back, about to stand. “I can see I’m wasting your time and mine. You obviously don’t care about Rachel.”

A hand shot out to stay her. “That’s not true. I’ll talk to her. Okay? I’ll let her know we’re both here for her if she needs us.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” She chewed on her lip for a moment, while she decided whether or not to confide in him more. Then she finally put her reservations aside. “Brad, there’s something you should know.”

He cocked his head to the side. “It sounds serious.”

“It is,” she said, stalling. She lifted a hand from her lap and ran a finger across the leather strap on her purse before meeting Brad’s gaze. “Griffin Wells didn’t rape me.”

She watched as Brad took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hollin, why would you say something like that? We all know he did. He was convicted.”

Hollin shook her head. “I made a mistake. I was scared. Confused. I’d tried so hard to block out all the details of that night. I had no idea who the man was, and then when the sheriff found Griffin’s pocketknife, everyone, including you, convinced me that it had to have been him.”

Brad’s blue eyes turned stormy. “It
was
him! He got you drunk at his trailer and took you into his bedroom. The only reason he didn’t rape you then was because there were so many people around. After dropping you off that night, he went back to the trailer, kicked everyone out, and then came back to the house.”

Shaking her head, Hollin said, “He didn’t get me drunk. I did that on my own. And besides, how would he have known I was locked out? That I would be out back waiting for Rachel to come home.”

“You said you left your purse at his place. He didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that you couldn’t get inside the house without your key.”

“No, Brad. That’s not what happened. It wasn’t Griffin. And someone planted that knife of his near the garage.”

“Who? Who would want to frame him? You said yourself you never saw whoever it was that came up behind you that night. So, why would anyone have to frame Wells?” He stared at her long and hard while she struggled with her thoughts.

“I don’t know why. All I know is that he’s innocent, and I ruined his life by accusing him.”

Brad spread his fingers on the glass table and leaned back in his chair. “When did you decide that Wells was innocent? Have you seen him? Talked to him?”

“Yes.” Her answer was brief. She had no intention of sharing the details of her meetings with Griffin.

His eyes showed a tortured haziness of disbelief. “I see.” He pushed his chair back and stood. As he paced the room, he straightened his tie. “Hollin, as your older brother I feel the need to warn you about this guy.” He glanced her way, then went to stand near his desk. “Wells can’t be trusted. And it’s only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down around him. He’s up to his eyeballs in debt. I don’t know what the hell he’s trying to prove, buying up all those properties. But one day he’s going to find himself in trouble, and trust me, no one in this town is going to bail him out.”

Ignoring Brad’s warning, Hollin placed her purse over her shoulder and stood. “My mother is going to sell off the property to the east of the house.”

Brad stiffened. “Don’t tell me. She’s selling it to Wells.”

“Yes.”

He closed in on her. “Hollin, don’t you see what he’s doing?”

“No. What is he doing that is so horrible?”

“He doesn’t care about you. He’s using you.”

“Really? How so? I’m simply arranging a business deal between him and my mother. That’s it.”
And I plan to sleep with him. Soon.

“Is that what you were doing at the old trailer last week?”

Hollin stared at him wide-eyed. “How did you--”

“It’s a small town, Hollin. People talk.”

She averted her eyes, embarrassed, wondering what else he knew. “What I do and who I see is my business. Not yours, and not Rachel’s.”

Brad folded his arms. “So, Rachel and I at least agree on something.”

Hollin looked up. “I don’t know what goes through Rachel’s head. I have a feeling she knew Griffin was innocent before I said a word. And she seems to know something about the night I was raped, but she won’t talk to me.”

Letting his arms drop to his sides, Brad said, “Let me talk to Rachel. Sometimes she can get a little hostile. You don’t want to pressure her and have her do something crazy, do you?”

She was momentarily panicked as her mind jumped forward. “Like what?”

He shrugged both shoulders. “With Rachel, you never know. She’s unstable. Let me talk to her. Okay?”