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Clayton
It seems I’m in love with quasi—criminals. Vic and Abigail left just after dark, dressed in darker clothes. They took the rig and have been gone for like three hours now. Do I want to know what they’re up to? I don’t know. I know I’m worried they’re gonna get caught. It started raining again. Just one more thing to worry about.
The front door opens, and they come rushing in as I pace the living room. Not only are they soaked from the run to the house, but they’re covered from head to toe in mud.
“What the hell?” I ask, confused as they start to strip.
“We need to shower, and you need to throw our clothes in the wash. Please.” Abigail says while stripping her clothes.
“Making me an accessory after the fact to what exactly?”
“Oh shut it, Mister Perfect. It’s just a little B and E. You’ll get over it.” Vic throws his shorts at me and now butt naked, grabs Abigail. “We’ll be right back.”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Vic. Don’t ask questions you really don’t want answers too.”
I sigh as they head for the shower. I should have made them stand in the yard in the rain for all the grief they’re giving me. I swear to God if they wind up in jail and I have to stay in Kentucky I’m liable to start picking people off. I grab a garbage bag and get all their stuff together to throw in the wash. Taking the bag, they left on the floor with me. I’m going to assume it’s filled with whatever they procured wherever they went. Tossing their stuff it the wash and my shirt along with it, I stay downstairs on the rec room couch with the two agitated pups. Fletch and Chaos are on alert. They know something is off, just like I do. I mean, Marcia has only been gone for eighteen hours, and already the crazy is starting.
I’m staring at the bag as the dogs sniff at it on the coffee table. I can hear Vic and Abigail talking in the bedroom. Though I can’t make out what they say. Chaos’ ears perk, and he heads for the bedroom door as they come out.
“So, we should talk about what happened at court today,” Abigail says, coming closer.
I nod, making room enough for them to sit. I’ve been waiting for an explanation. For an understanding of just what could have driven Harmand to the insane notion that he could attempt to touch her again, leading to his current unconscious state in the hospital.
“I told you Killian was going to testify today, right?”
“Yes.” I watch her. She’s fidgeting.
“A lot came out. A lot that I blocked out. Apparently, he was being paid by old man Amel to molest Felicity and me. They needed her until she left and then it fell to me. I don’t know why but it has something to do with the buildings on Old Mill Road.”
“And what’s in the bag?” I ask with a head tilt.
“Evidence and maybe information?” Abigail looks away from me.
I reach for it, pulling it into my lap. “Well, we’ve come this far. Shall I do the honors?”
“I’d rather not. You don’t need to see it.”
“Honey, there’s nothing in here that we can’t handle. You aren’t alone in any of this.”
Vic puts his arm around her. “That’s right, baby girl. You and he, and I make three. That’s how it’s always gonna be, and of course, now, it’s gonna be four.” His other hand touches her belly. “We’re in this. Together.”
“I just don’t think you all need to see what’s in there. You don’t need the nightmares.”
“You don’t get to make that decision,” I say, handing her the bag. “But I won’t invade your privacy. Maybe one day you’ll trust us enough to let us in. Maybe not.” I stand up. “Since you all had your shower, I’m pretty much done for the night. Your stuff is in the washer. You can toss it in the dryer.”
“Clay.” Vic tries to stop me.
“No, you two wanna go do your little things that’s fine by me. I just thought we were in this together.”
“We are, I just don’t want to corrupt you any more than I already have. If you want to see it, fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I watch her as she opens the bag. She starts pulling out pictures, disks, paperwork, setting it all on the table. She starts to spread them out, and the horror that has been her life for the last five years begins to take shape. Her mother- fuck that term. Ellie kept records. Days, dates, duration, and type of abuse as if she were going to use it for some sick scrapbook at a later date.
Abigail sits with her arms wrapped around herself, just staring at the ground. Vic’s got his arms around her, and she’s leaning into him as I numbingly sort through the papers.
“Honey? Who’s Fitzgerald Hamden, and why would he leave you property?” I ask, reading over what appears to be a last will and testament.
“That’s mom’s dad, but I was hardly ever around him. Only dad took me over there. He passed away when I was thirteen or fourteen.”
“Right around the time, this all started?’ I say more to myself than to the room.
“After, but it’s somewhere in there.”
I keep reading, digging. I find a newspaper clipping from the seventies. “Look here,” I say, scanning it. “According to this, the mills and the rubber plant were once owned by Hamden and Amel Inc. But it seems the old men had a falling out, and the properties were split up.”
Vic looks at the clipping. “Christ, baby girl. You own a quarter of this town.”
“So, I’ve been abused all these years because of some property? I-I don’t want it.”
“Don’t you get it? You’ve got the Amel’s by the short and curlies. They’ve been developing on your land for years now. Without consent.” I say softly. “All of this, it’s been some sort of scam. You said Harmand kept going on about wanting to get you pregnant. Why? Because a baby with his blood would be entitled to the property if something should happen to you.”
“He said he owned me. That I was bought and paid for.” Abigail pulls her legs up into herself.
“Yeah, well, I think you’ve got all you are gonna need to break that family’s hold. Not just on yourself but this town.” I gather up all the stuff and stick it back into the bag. “Come on, Honey, let’s get you to bed. Tomorrow is going to be eventful.”
