Plain Jane (34 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Plain Jane
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“Come back and visit, Jane. I get lonely.”
Jane ran from the house, jumped in the car, and sped away. She was halfway to Ramsey Trucking before she remembered she hadn't locked the door. She wished she'd brought Olive with her.
 
 
The moment Jane parked her truck in the Visitor Parking area, Brian Ramsey walked over to her. For a big man he looked incredibly put-together: Khaki trousers, white shirt, open at the neck, sleeves rolled up, and Docksiders. He was wearing sunglasses. She wondered why since it was such a dismal, gray day. She found out the reason a moment later when they entered the greenhouse and he removed the glasses. He sported a magnificent shiner. She winced. “Does it hurt?”
“Yeah, it hurts like hell. It was worse yesterday. Today I can at least crack my eye open a little. Sit down and let's talk, Doc.” He pointed to a redwood bench.
Jane sat down and crossed her legs. In spite of what had happened earlier, she felt pretty good. Almost peaceful. Maybe the word was contented. She fixed her gaze on Brian Ramsey and waited.
“Clarify something for me, please,” he began. “We were talking about the Connie Bryan mugging, weren't we?”
“Mugging?” Jane echoed. “You call gang rape a mugging ! Not from where I'm standing. There was a witness, remember ?”
Brian's face registered pure shock. “Whoa, Doc. Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don't think we are talking about the same thing here.” He shook his head, his eyes wild.
“Yes we are, Brian. I'm talking about the night before the last finals. About ten o'clock. Six guys. Big guys. Football players. Three of them raped Connie. Don't even think about telling me you didn't know those guys raped her. You aren't stupid. Or are you?”
“You're wrong. All they did was rough her up,” he insisted. “There was another girl with her, probably the witness you were referring to. Find her, ask her. She'll tell you there wasn't any rape.”
Jane stood up, furious. “I don't have to ask her, Brian. I
am
that other girl, and I witnessed the whole thing,” she said, pointing her finger at herself. “Maybe I looked a lot different back then, but I'm telling you, I was there. I know what happened. It wasn't a mugging. It was rape. Gang rape.” She took a moment to regain control of herself. “Afterward, you all ran away like the cowards you were. I helped Connie back to our dorm and tried to comfort her. But she couldn't be comforted. She was beside herself with fear and grief and despair. She told me to throw away her clothes, that she didn't want to be reminded of what happened to her. But I didn't throw them away, Brian. I put them in a paper bag and kept them. A bag full of DNA. Proof. I even kept the pictures I took of her bruises. Polaroids.” She looked past him at a row of dark purple African violets. Her mind scampered around as she took in their beauty. Every African violet she'd ever bought had died in a couple of months. “Connie made me promise not to tell what happened to her, and all these years I kept that promise. But I'm through keeping it. It's time justice is served.” She looked down, her eyes meeting his. “When you came to see me that first time, everything that happened that night came back, and it's been haunting me ever since. A while ago I decided that I couldn't live with myself anymore until I told what happened.” She took a deep breath and sat back down. “Do you want to tell me how you got that black eye?”
Brian's expression was grim, his massive shoulders slumped. “I went a couple of rounds with Ben Nolan. He claims to have absolutely no memory of that night. I think he remembers now, though.” His hands clenched into fists. “Don't get the idea I condone brute force. It was called for, just the way it was called for when you socked Betty's psychiatrist. To my knowledge no one ever talked about what happened that night. I was only a third-year man then. The others all graduated, but I saw them over the years, and no one ever said a word.” He picked a dead flower off one of his African violets and rolled it between his fingers. “I see Todd Prentice on alumni business all the time. Most of the time all I get is a curt nod. He looks right through me.” He turned sideways on the bench. “I didn't know Connie died for almost a year. I didn't find out she took her own life for something like four or five years. I never asked questions. She was out of my league, like the rest of those guys. I swear to God, I did not know. It sure as hell makes sense now, and you're right about me needing a lawyer. Look, Tony and Mitch knew I left that night. They were busy holding down the other girl . . . you. I met up with them at the library. Marcus is the one who said we had to do one of our brothers a little favor. Son of a bitch!”
“The favor was . . . what?”
“Rough up Connie. Todd was trying to break off the relationship because he'd met this rich girl, but his wedding was like six weeks away. I think the invitations were in the mail or something like that. It was his way of picking a fight with Connie so he would have an excuse to break off the engagement and cancel the wedding. I thought that's the way it happened since he married Miss Rich Bitch!”
“Maybe that's what they told you, but that wasn't what Todd Prentice intended. I went to see Connie's parents because I was carrying around all this guilt. They gave me some computer disks of Connie's. Some of them read like a diary. She detailed Todd's visits, his conversations, his accusations. She said it was like he knew what had happened to her. All those things you said about Betty when you came to me that first time—those were the very things Connie said. She was afraid Todd wouldn't want her once he knew she'd been raped. She was a victim, just the way Betty was a victim. Now they're both dead.”
Brian dropped his head into his hands. “What are you going to do, Doc?”
“I'm going to take my evidence to Baton Rouge and turn it over to the police. Then I'm going to call Connie's parents. I'll be a witness when it goes to trial. Mr. and Mrs. Bryan aren't going to sit still for this. Nor should they. Connie was their only daughter, their only child. They had every right in the world to want and expect her life to be happy and to see grandchildren. If I were you, Brian, I'd get your two friends, the two you said didn't do anything, and make a full confession. Stat. And I'd think about selling your business before the dark stuff hits the fan. There's going to be a lot of media coverage. A lot of lives are going to be uprooted by what you all did. When you think about it, the only one who benefited from what you all did was Todd Prentice. He got rid of Connie, married a rich wife, and got a position in her daddy's firm.” Jane's throat was tight with the emotions she was holding back. Sitting beside her was one of the people who was responsible for Connie's death and her own years of torment. She should feel nothing but hate for him. Hate and loathing. Ironically, she felt sort of sorry for him. Because his years of torment were just beginning.
“Tell me what to do, Doc.”
“You took the first step by admitting your part in it. Go to the others, tell them the situation, and all of you lawyer up. You need to get there first, Brian, or you're going to hang by your thumbs. I can testify for you to a point. You are the one who was on the sidelines, right? I didn't see your face, but I sensed when you left. I didn't see the faces of the others either. But I bit one of you, clear through to the bone. He should have a dandy little scar on his hand.”
“Oh, Jesus! Is that what that contest was about?”
‘'Uh-huh.”
“I'm scared, Doc.”
“Fear is a healthy emotion. All you have to do is tell the truth. I have to go, Brian. Do whatever you have to do.”
Brian nodded. “Here, take this,” he said, handing her a beautiful African violet. “It's called Wisteria, because of the color. I gave one to Betty that last day. She loved flowers and green plants.”
Jane accepted the gift and got up to leave. “Yes, she did. Thanks.”
“I don't mean to scare you, Doc, but if I tell those guys that you're going to blow the whistle on them, you could be in danger.”
Jane shrugged. “By the time you tell them, my attorney will already have their names and my evidence: the computer disks, the bag of clothes, the pictures, everything. They'd be wise not to get themselves in any deeper than they already are. Get right on it, Brian. Don't waste time. This is going down as we speak.” Jane took a deep breath and walked outside.
“I don't understand why you're giving me an edge. It's true that I left, but I knew they were planning on roughing Connie up. I was a real prick when I first came to you. I lied to you. I didn't even show you the respect you deserve. Why?” His broad shoulders were heaving as he breathed.
She walked a few steps ahead of him, thinking. She turned around. “Because you made me take a long, hard look at myself, something I hadn't been able to do before. I've wanted to make this right for a long time. Odd as this may sound, you gave me the guts to do it, and now that tremendous weight I've been carrying on my shoulders for so long is starting to ease up. If you were on the sidelines, that gives you a bit of an edge. It's a wonderful feeling, Brian, to have the burden eased.”
 
 
Jane looked at the kitchen clock: 7:45
P.M
. It was going to be a long night. Trixie had said she was coming down with a cold and was going to turn in early. Mike was attending a seminar that would go on all evening, so she wouldn't be seeing him. She looked down at her dinner. Since meeting Mike she'd developed a distaste for eating alone. Olive had gobbled her food and was asleep under the kitchen table. She could go into her office and pay bills, read through Connie's files again, or she could watch the tube.
Maybe what she really needed to do was sit and think; work out a plan of action. There were at least a hundred phone calls she needed to make. Maybe she should square that away before she did anything else. If Trixie was under the weather tomorrow, too, that would mean she would have to do double duty.
Jane pushed her salad plate to the center of the table. The cup of tomato soup followed. Coffee cup in hand, she headed for her office and the computer. The Bad Dog screen saver popped up. As always, it made her smile. She typed in her password and opened her files. She brought up her “to do” list and typed furiously. Thirty minutes later she scanned her progress. Well diggers would arrive early in the morning. Pending: Connie Bryan . . . all evidence and computer disks to be delivered to police in Baton Rouge by way of her attorney tomorrow. Pending: Mike . . . wedding. Pending: Mother/ rethink destroying house. Pending: Brian. Settled: Todd Prentice. Pending: Other Rapists. Pending: Betty . . . in hands of police.
Jane was about to close the file when the phone rang.
“Dr. Lewis, it's Brian Ramsey. Tony Larsen and Mitch Iverson stopped by. They want to know if they can talk to you. We can come to you or you can come to my house. I think you know where I live. Yeah, I saw you peeking through my window that night. It isn't too late, is it? They lawyered up this afternoon.”
Jane hesitated before answering. What would it be like to have three out of the six who had raped Connie in her own house? Mike would tell her she was crazy even to talk to them and that she would be insane to let them come over. But she wasn't Mike. “You can come by, but I can't do anything. Make sure you tell them that.”
“I did. They still want to talk to you.”
Jane waited.
When she opened the door, she cringed. They looked just the way she thought they would look. Both men had put on a few extra pounds and both had receding hairlines. Both wore the same panicked expressions. Brian made the introductions.
She invited them into the living room, offered coffee, which they all declined, and sat down on the chair closest to the fireplace. She'd built a fire just after Brian called. A good blaze always gave her comfort.
Olive circled the chairs, her tail between her legs, her eyes alert and wary.
The three of them sat down on the couch. “I just want you to know I didn't do anything,” Tony Larsen blurted. “Neither did Brian or Mitch. Marcus said Todd wanted Connie roughed up and scared so he could pick a fight with her and get the wedding canceled. That's what he told
us,
anyway. I didn't rape Connie, so you won't find my DNA on anything. Brian split first. Mitch and I right afterward.” He steepled his hands as if praying. “Look, this is going to ruin my family if it gets out. It was a stupid, dumb-ass thing that happened. Connie wasn't supposed to get hurt. At the time it seemed like we were helping a buddy. Even that was wrong. We should have had more sense. I'm not taking the fall for Marcus, Ben, or Pete, and Todd can go straight to hell. All of us will testify the whole thing was his idea from the git-go.”
“What do you think that's going to get you? Todd Prentice has a real rich daddy-in-law. He's going to get the best of the best when it comes to lawyers. His DNA isn't going to be found. He was probably miles away with sixty witnesses who can testify to that very fact. Guess you know where that leaves you guys.”
“What about the disks you said Connie made? Don't they make him a suspect?” Mitch asked.

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