Written in 64 minutes.
Friday, October 19, 2000
Hardy House: Living Room
Elizabeth folded her arms, and frowned. “What do you mean? You didn’t screw up anything, Em—”
“I did. I just—I didn’t really want to tell you or anyone else. I was hoping Zander would make a deal or that I’d just be able to ignore all of this.” Emily turned away, paced a few lengths away until she stood behind the sofa, then spun back. “I told you guys that nothing happened while I was kidnapped. He didn’t hurt me or…anything else. And that’s true. But…” she paused, looked towards the ceiling for a beat, then brought her gaze back to Elizabeth. “He sold me a sob story, and I believed him.”
“I know. You said he tried to tell you that he was in the room and argued with Sorel’s men to leave you alive. But you realized it was a lie. Don’t feel bad for believing him, Em. You were upset, and terrified. You did what you had to do—”
“I didn’t just believe him,” Emily said softly. “I told him that we’d help him get away from Sorel. That all we wanted was to make sure whoever killed Ted Wilson was punished. That…it’s what we thought we were doing. When we put the body in his trunk.”
Her words hung between them, the silence awkward. Uncomfortable.
“You told him we put the body in his trunk,” Elizabeth repeated slowly. “I thought he was making that claim because he’d leapt to the conclusion. I mean, it made sense. He knew he’d left the body with you. And now it was back with him, so—but you told him. Confirmed it.”
“I believed him,” Emily repeated. “I believed that he screwed up and was trying to make it right, but that he owed Sorel—I don’t know. It feels like a jumble now, you know? It was so clear when it was happening, but then later, when I realized he was just a lying piece of—” Her voice faltered, and she dropped her eyes to the ground. “I was just hoping it wouldn’t come up. Or that Dara wouldn’t believe him. I’m sorry—”
“It’s—” Elizabeth took a step forward. “It’s okay, Em. I’m not—I wasn’t there, you know? I can’t tell you if I wouldn’t have made the same choices. And we all do crazy things when were in the middle of the crisis. I told you, I stabbed Lucky once. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t even know it was him—anyway. You did what you had to,” she repeated and Emily looked at her. “You’ll never know if Zander was planning to kill you and make a run for the border. Maybe you made him slow down, or got his trust and he kept you alive. You made a choice in the moment because it felt like the right one. I’m not going to judge what you did now.”
“That’s…nicer than I thought you’d be,” Emily admitted. “Or maybe I figured you and Jason would handle it. Lucky and Nikolas—” She let out an shaky breath. “I don’t know if they’ll be as understanding.”
“We don’t have to tell them. We don’t,” Elizabeth repeated when Emily made a face. “Okay? They know Zander’s making the claim, and you told them we were going to tell Jason and make it his problem. He’s going to handle this, Em. I don’t know how yet, but I trust him. Lucky and Nikolas don’t have to part of this at all anymore.”
“I guess.” Emily sat on the sofa, her knees pressed together, her shoulders hunched, and her hands curled in little fists. “I remembered him,” she said softly. “Taking my clothes off that night. It’s just flashes, but…it wasn’t Sorel’s men. It was him.”
Elizabeth sat next to her, reached for Emily’s hand. She’d known that someone had to strip Emily down that night, but she hadn’t really done more than think about it. The body next to her was the more pressing issue.
“Has…anything else come back?” she asked, and Emily looked at her, confused, then relaxed.
“No. No. He didn’t—I mean, I don’t think—you’d know, wouldn’t you? I mean, especially when you never—” Emily’s eyes went wide. “Never mind. Let’s just leave it at no.”
“You’d probably know if he raped you,” Elizabeth said. Emily pressed her lips together, dropped her eyes again. “You’re a virgin. Your body hasn’t…stretched that way. There’s…sometimes there’s bleeding. We took the sheets, remember? They were clean.”
“Oh.” Emily exhaled in a long breath, like she’d finished a marathon. “Okay. Well, I didn’t…feel different. Down there. So all good.” She hesitated. “Did…did you? Don’t answer th. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” She started to get up, but Elizabeth tugged gently, and Emily sat back down.
“It was different for me. I hadn’t been drugged. I wasn’t drinking. I wasn’t unconscious. I…everything hurt. All over,” Elizabeth said. “Inside, too. I was a mess. But it doesn’t have to go that far for you to feel violated, Em. You were drugged and a strange man undressed you. Handled your body. That’s not something you have to ignore. Unless you want us to. I’ll do whatever you need.”
“Right now, I just…I told you, and I told Jason. That’s really as far as I can handle it right now. I just want it to go away, Liz. You know? I don’t want to think about it anymore.”
“Then we won’t.” Elizabeth squeezed Emily’s hand. “We handed this off to Jason, like we should have weeks ago. If he needs us, he’ll tell us.”
“Right.” Emily forced a smile, then got to her feet. “I really do have to work on that paper. Um, don’t forget. Call Steven and Sarah about your birth certificate. And get in touch with your parents. Maybe you’ll get lucky and get the answers fast.”
She wanted to change the subject, so Elizabeth let her. She stood. “I’m calling them as soon as you leave. Good luck on the paper.”
“Thanks.”
After Emily left, Elizabeth left messages for both siblings, and for her parents’ contact at Doctors Without Borders. She didn’t have Emily’s optimism that she’d hear from anyone, but at least she could tell herself that she’d done everything she could before bothering the high school she’d barely attended.
When she’d completed her last call, she didn’t set the phone back on the base. Instead, she dialed another number.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” Elizabeth paused, unsure why she’d made the call or what to say next. So she went with the truth. “Emily just left. She told me she’d talked to you. About what happened with Zander.”
There was a long pause.
“About what she said during the kidnapping?” Jason asked, a bit hesitant.
“About the night it happened.”
Another pause.
“I’ll pick you up in about ten minutes.”
Kelly’s Diner: Kitchen
“I don’t know how I got suckered into this,” Lucky muttered, dropping another tub of dirty dishes on the counter.
“It’s called money,” Penny told him, sailing past him with her own tub of dishes. “And we’re short on bus boys. Don’t worry, you get a cut of the tips. But, you know, you gotta smile more.”
She was gone before Lucky could think of something to say in return, heading outside to the courtyard for the last few hours of the dinner rush. He’d never liked her.
He didn’t really have a lot of options. Working with his father was out of the question, and his mother was always asking questions, looking at him closely, like she was waiting for him to screw up, or break down.
Working at the family diner was really the only choice left.
He emerged from the kitchen, fishing in the pocket of the apron for the order pad and scowling at the pencil that had broken in the pocket. He dropped it in the cannister behind the counter, found another one.
The bell over the door jingled, and Lucky turned to see how annoying his next table would be. It was Sonny.
His father’s former business partner stopped just inside the entrance, saw Lucky behind the counter. Instead of taking a table, he walked directly towards Lucky, taking a seat at the counter.
“Didn’t know you worked here.” Sonny flipped a cup on the saucer. “I was hoping to find Elizabeth.”
Lucky lifted his brows. “You didn’t hear? She quit. Why do you need her?” he demanded. He leaned in. “Because anything you’re doing about Zander, I should be part of it. Okay? It’s my life on the line, too.”
Sonny squinted. “What?”
“Don’t play stupid. Emily told me she was letting you and Jason handle everything and that me and Nikolas weren’t supposed to worry about it or get involved.” Lucky reached for the carafe of coffee, practically jerking it from the hot plate, then poured it in Sonny’s cup. “It’s bullshit. So anything you need to tell her, you can tell me.”
“I would…except I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lucky bobbled the coffee slightly, and it sloshed over the tip of the cup, filling the saucer beneath it. “Jason didn’t tell you?”
“No. Why don’t you fill me in?”
Vista Point: Observatory Deck
The nights were growing colder, and it was even chillier up in the hills, and at the overlook that offered a half decent view of Lake Ontario — when it wasn’t cloudy and dark.
For now, the view wasn’t much more than a gray, black mash-up, the two colors swirling together until it was difficult to tell the horizon from the lake.
“I should have asked her about it a long time ago,” Elizabeth said, leaning back against the railing, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat. “But we really just focused on the problem, you know?”
“I didn’t ask her either,” Jason admitted. He leaned over the railing, his fingers wrapped around the cracked and peeling painted wood.
“She’d been kidnapped, Jason. You had other priorities.”
“She was found next to a dead cop, Elizabeth. So did you,” he said, and she made a face.
“So if you’re off the hook, so am I. Still doesn’t make me feel any better.” Elizabeth sighed. “And she feels guilty about telling him the whole story. I’m not so sure Lucky or Nikolas are going to handle that part well. I told her not to say anything to them.”
“So did I. I don’t want them involved,” Jason told her. “They’ve made enough stupid mistakes. And don’t try to tell me you went along with it—you and Emily wanted to get help from the beginning. The only thing you’re guilty of is listening to those idiots.” He winced. “That’s not fair—”
“But it’s accurate. And Emily and I are more willing to leave this in your hands. They might not be.”
“I’ll handle that if I have to. Look—” Jason paused. “You passed this off to me, the both of you. I’ll handle it. But it’s probably best if we don’t talk about it after this. Any of us.”
“Right. You want us to have plausible deniability. No lying required when we honestly don’t know what happens next. I’m for it. I just—we created a mess, Jason. I know making it your problem is the right solution, but that doesn’t make me feel less guilty for dropping it on you.”
Jason nodded. “I get that. I can’t change the way you feel, but maybe next time, you remember the way you feel right now, and it’ll stop you or Emily from doing it again. Maybe.”
“Next time?” Elizabeth said, lifting her brows.
The corner of his mouth slid up in a half-smile. “It’s you and Emily. There’s always a next time.”
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