Beautiful Girl Read online

  But it wasn’t just that. Even without the total lack of hair, though, he looked different than he had in high school.

  Older. Not just physically. The youth and innocence had been gone a long time but he hadn’t really realized just how jaded he looked now. He had put back on the weight he’d lost when he’d had been sick, and then some. He ran religiously and lifted weights, drove forty minutes so he could take Shaolin karate in Hancock three times a week.

  After spending years sick and weak, he wasn’t ever doing it again so physical fitness was like a religion for him. He hadn’t turned into a leaf-eating vegetarian or anything—he wasn’t going to take it so seriously that he gave up a good steak or onion rings, but he was careful.

  He didn’t look bad, he guessed.

  Just different.

  At least he and Dee would be on equal ground, he figured.

  Chapter Two

  Something happened and I want to know what, Manda had said.

  Something.

  Yeah. Something happened, all right. Del wasn’t ready to talk about it and she could tell by the look in Manda’s eyes that her old friend wasn’t buying Del’s vague answer, It’s been twelve years. All sorts of somethings have happened. But, bless her, Manda hadn’t pushed.

  The subject wasn’t closed, though. Far from it. Manda wasn’t going to leave it alone. If Del was lucky, though, she’d leave it alone long enough for Del to get through the reunion, to prove to herself she could, and then slip away.

  But Del wasn’t very convinced things would go her way.

  Eight hours after the lunch with Manda, she stood in front of the brightly lit mirror in the guest bathroom. Mrs. Manda Jones was as stubborn now as she had been in high school. When Del had said she was staying at the little lakeside resort twenty minutes outside of town, Manda had almost thrown a fit. “You’ll stay with me.” She didn’t even ask Del why she didn’t go stay at the manor. When Del tried to argue, Manda had played the ace up her sleeve. “You stay there and your folks will show up. Louisa can’t have her daughter staying at some middle class hotel.”

  Del’s lip curled at the reference to Louisa and her second husband. That was all it would take, and Manda had known it. Even after all these years, Manda knew Del’s sore spots.

  Del wasn’t going to risk having either of them showing up at her door. Manda was one of the few who knew how distant and strained the relationship between Del and Louisa had been and she’d known exactly how to handle Del. When Del reluctantly accepted, Manda had smiled with satisfaction. “I’ll even let you watch me send them away,” Manda had promised.

  But Louisa wouldn’t come to Manda’s. She wouldn’t risk Del airing their personal affairs with an audience. Not considering just how ugly those personal affairs were.

  So instead of an impersonal hotel room, Del was standing in the pretty blue and white bathroom and staring at her reflection. Yes. She was different.

  She had finally grown her hair out so that it was a little past her shoulders. It was a momentous thing for her. For years, she hadn’t been able to stand the feel of it around her shoulders so she’d kept it cropped to chin length. In high school, the butter-yellow curls had fallen to her waist.

  He’d used her hair to… Dee moaned as the memories swarmed up, swamping her. Beautiful little slut—you know you were made for this, weren’t you, beautiful girl? The ugly, hated memories surrounded her, sucking her under. She felt like she was going to drown in them.

  Del covered her eyes, as if that would help. It didn’t, though. She heard his voice, clear as if he was standing there. Beautiful girl, my beautiful little bitch, tell me you like it. She could feel his hands on her, shoving her to her knees and pulling her hair as he made her open her mouth and—

  Del whimpered and the high pitched, helpless sound echoed through the bathroom. The sound of it snapped her out of the memory fog and she slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle it. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” She turned on the faucet and splashed the icy water on her face. The nausea didn’t recede but through sheer will power, she managed to throttle the memories down and she managed to keep from puking.

  Barely.

  That last night, after William Sanders raped her, she had taken a pair of scissors from the kitchen and chopped her hair off until it was no more than an inch long all over her head. It wasn’t enough, though. A few days after she ran away from Prescott, she had bought a box of hair dye and dyed the choppy blonde strands black.

  A few years ago, she’d stopped dyeing it black, settling on a dark, nondescript brown. She didn’t look quite so pale and most of the kids she worked with stopped treating her like she was trying to pull a Goth routine just to establish some kind of connection. She straightened it regularly. The natural curls were another reminder of the life she ran away from, the life of Prescott’s princess and she hadn’t wanted any reminders.

  A professional stylist could get rid of the curls and it just took a few regular trips to the salon each year to maintain the razor-straight tresses. She kept her hair braided, she never wore make up and instead of the fun, fashionable clothes she’d once worn, she wore cargo pants or jeans, boots or tennis shoes. And long sleeve shirts. Always long sleeves.

  Water dripped from her hands and face as she turned off the water. But instead of straightening up and drying her face off, she remained bent over the sink. Her fingers shook she traced the scar on her left wrist. There was a matching one on her right wrist. Faded now, but she remembered how they had looked when she had first left the hospital ten years ago. It wasn’t the first time she’d attempted suicide, but it was the only time she’d come really close.

  If that couple hadn’t taken a break and pulled their truck over when they did, Del would have bled to death in that little interstate rest stop in Ohio For a very, very long time, Del wished that nice lady straight to hell for daring to save her life.

  Not now, though. Not even being back here was enough to make her yearn for death. She didn’t even want blood. She had come here to see Manda—she missed her old friend. And yes, Del could admit it, she wanted to see Blake and all the friends she’d left behind when she ran away.

  She’d come back to prove to herself that she could and she’d come back to face her past. Even though she sincerely didn’t want to see her mother, or William, she was going to.

  Before she left, Del was going to face Louisa Prescott over what that cold-hearted bitch had allowed to happen—and she’d get answers. Not until Del was ready, though. She’d deal with her mother when she was ready and not a minute before.

  Mama, he raped me

  The lies you tell, Delilah. So unbecoming…

  Unbecoming. That was why Louisa allowed it. If William was raping Del, he wouldn’t bother his wife. Sex was an untidy, messy business the lady didn’t want to mess with. Never mind that her daughter was being assaulted in the other wing. It kept up for two long months, the entire summer before Del would have started her junior year in high school. Manda had gone to visit her grandmother in Corpus Christi and both Blake and Vance were away at some kind of sports camp for part of the summer and then they had a trip to Ireland that Blake’s mother paid for.

  Del had been alone. She had plenty of casual friends, but she hadn’t trusted any of them enough to tell them what was happening. Her own mother pretended ignorance or accused Del of lying. Who else was she going to turn to?

  Del had been so humiliated, so mortified. Completely alone, terrified, ashamed and she hadn’t known what to do when William first showed up in her room.

  At first, it had been oral sex. The humiliation of that had been bad enough but after the first few times, he had gotten bored with it. He started raping her, one, two and sometimes three nights a week. The few times she tried to fight, he beat her until she blacked out from the pain and then he raped her while she was unconscious.

  The last time, he’d come in and looked at her, that cruel smile on his mouth. She’d snapped. She picked up her lamp and t
hrew it at him. It caught him on the shoulder and she’d tried to run past him but he had grabbed her and shoved her to the ground, face first. He’d held her down with his knee digging into her back. He tore off the thick flannel pajamas and her underwear but instead of forcing himself in like he usually did, he’d…

  Instinctively, Del clenched her buttocks together. If she thought the rapes were bad, they were nothing compared to the pain she’d experienced when he sodomized her. She’d been bleeding when he left and continued to bleed off and on for two days. She’d been a mess of bruises, despair and desperation when she climbed off the floor and went into the shower and she had only one thing in mind.

  Getting the hell out.

  She’d sworn she wouldn’t ever come back, either.

  So what was she doing here now? Del heaved out a sigh and pushed away from the sink. She left the bathroom and went over to the bed. It was piled high with fat comforters and warm blankets and fluffy pillows. She grabbed a pillow and clutched it her chest as she leaned back against the headboard.

  No matter how much she’d missed her friends, she hadn’t wanted to come back here. But she was tired of living in fear and if that meant returning home, even for just a few days, she’d damn well do it.

  “She's doin’ what?” Blake repeated. He lowered his coffee cup and looked at Joe, searching for some sign the old man was pulling one over on him. All he saw was a puzzled look. Yeah, Blake was a little puzzled himself. “You’re serious. Deedee works at a homeless shelter?”

  Joe swiped a cloth down the already pristine counter and shrugged. “That’s what I heard from Maude. Does counseling type stuff for runaways and that sort of thing. Up in Cincinnati.”

  His wife Maude had no doubt heard it through the grapevine. “I don’t believe it,” Blake muttered.

  Joe nodded toward the door. “Well, you can ask for yourself. She’s on her way in here with her cousin.”

  Blake’s heart leaped inside his chest. He hoped nothing he felt showed on his face as he turned and looked out the big window. He saw Vance. His old football buddy was still as big as he’d been in high school, but some of the hard muscle had softened. His wife didn’t seem to mind. She said he was like a big teddy bear now. And every time she said it, Vance blushed like a girl.

  The woman at his side, though, didn’t look a damn thing like Deedee Prescott. Her hair was dark, nearly black. It was hard to tell with the way she had it braided, but it looked straight as a pin, too. Dee had the most beautiful, amazing blonde curls, curls that looked almost too perfect to be real. A pale blonde that on most people, he’d say came out of a box, but he knew in detail just how natural a blonde she was.

  Deedee had dressed like the princess she was, wearing cute, flirty clothes that showcased her pinup girl body.

  The woman walking beside Vance had a weird Goth/punk thing going on. There was a black cord around her neck and Blake caught sight of something silver hanging from it. The shirt she wore was form fitting, outlining a rather magnificent pair of breasts before disappearing into a pair of loose, almost baggy pants that she kept cinched around her waist with a wide belt. Thick-soled boots completed the ensemble.

  She looked like she was dressed to fight, Blake realized. Well, maybe not fight. She didn’t look like she was out cruising for trouble, but she sure as hell looked ready to deal with it if it happened her way. This dark haired woman carried herself with a tense, wary grace, ready to defend herself or take off running. Like she’d had to do both in the past, and she was prepared to do either or both again.

  The bell over the door chimed and Vance held the door open. The woman stepped through and Blake almost turned away. That wasn’t Deedee. But then her eyes met his and his heart stopped.

  Oh, shit.

  Those pretty, misty green eyes were unmistakable. He had dreamed about those eyes more times than he cared to remember. But her gaze wasn’t so soft now—hell, with the exception of the breasts straining under the thin cotton of her shirt, nothing about her looked soft.

  She wasn’t just dressed to fight. She was prepared to fight.

  He’d been wrong. That was Deedee, all right, but she’d changed. The sweet, fun party girl she had been in high school was gone, long dead if the look in her eyes was any indication. The woman in front of him had nothing sweet or fun inside her.

  Something hard and cold settled inside him as he studied her.

  The look in her eyes, unfortunately, wasn’t one he was unfamiliar with. He knew it all too well. Prescott was a small town in a small county, but it wasn’t Mayberry. Bad shit happened here. The average citizen could overlook it, many were probably unaware of it. A man working for the sheriff’s office didn’t have the luxury of not seeing it, though.

  The things that caused the hardness he saw in Deedee’s eyes were the things that made him hate his job. That look came from going through hell, kicking and screaming. Not everybody made it through the journey and many that did make it through were broken. All of them were different.

  Nobody could survive a trip through hell and not be a different person on the other side. Dee had taken that trip but she hadn’t emerged broken. No, she was stronger. Harder.

  What in the hell had happened to her?

  A sick, ugly rage started to form inside him and for a minute, Blake saw nothing but red. Every protective instinct he had came snarling to the surface and the adrenaline that crashed through him had his heart pounding, his fists clenching.

  Breathing through the rage took every shred of control he had.

  Vance said something and Del smiled a little. She’d forgotten what a goofball the big guy was. After the first few minutes, she hadn’t felt so awkward around him and she was glad. At least she still felt like there was somebody she could call family.

  “So you seen Blake yet?” Vance asked, his voice too casual.

  “No,” Del said, trying to sound as casual as her cousin but she had a feeling she failed.

  “Manda talk about him much?”

  With a restless shrug, Del said, “Just to say he was still around. We had a lot of catching up to do.” Actually, they’d spent the afternoon making the almost careful small talk that two casual acquaintances might have. After Manda’s too insightful questions, Del had backpedaled and Manda, bless her heart, had let her. As graceful as you could please, Manda guided the conversation back in safe territory and safe didn’t include much mention of anything other than the weather, the new elementary school and whether or not the town was going to need yet a third doctor in a few years. And, of course, the reunion.

  She looked up at Vance and saw that he was looking at the sheriff’s car parked outside of the diner. She smiled faintly. “Don’t tell me Blake’s run wild.” He had always had a streak of it in him, but just a little. Enough to give him a mischievous charm.

  “Well….” Vance drawled the word out, long and slow, as he scratched his chin. “He did do that, a bit. But it’s been a while. He’s actually with the sheriff’s department now, second in command, as a matter of fact.”

  Del arched a brow. “Really.” Blake as a cop. Well, technically, a deputy. But it all added up to the same thing. She tried to wrangle him into that image, the memory of the boy she’d loved, but it didn’t quite gel.

  “Yeah. He…ah…well.” Vance stopped in his tracks and waited for Del to look at him before he said anything. He didn’t try to touch her. It was weird, too, because she remembered that Vance was very much a touchy-feely kind of guy. He gave big bear hugs, he tugged on hair, he patted shoulders and backs. But all he had done was shake her hand. He’d tried to hug her, she remembered, when they’d run into each other in Cincinnati and she’d backed away.

  She should have hugged him and gotten it over with, because Vance, for all his teasing and joking, saw people too clearly. He stood there, looking just a little older, but a lot wiser. His voice was quiet as he said, “Blake was sick for a while, Del. He had cancer.”

  The pit of her stomach o
pened up and dropped out. She felt everything solid inside of her dissolve, felt her heart stop and a scream of denial echoed inside her head. And all of it silent. She never said a word and she didn’t bat an eyelash. Showing any kind of emotion revealed weakness, as far as Del was concerned, and she didn’t allow herself any weaknesses.

  So she waited until she was certain she could speak normally before she asked, “Had?”

  Vance shrugged. If he was disturbed by her lack of response, he didn’t show it. “Hodgkin’s disease. Spent a few years getting all sorts of treatments up in Louisville. The doc declared him cancer-free and he’s doing good.”

  “And you’re telling me because…”

  Vance just smiled and shrugged. “Just so you’re warned. Lots of things stayed the same ‘round here. But a few things changed… I’m not only talking about you,” He cocked his head and smiled at her, a little sadly, she thought.

  Del was prepared for anything—okay, just about anything. She thought maybe Blake would look sick and weak. Maybe he was older, heavier, there could be a dozen things and Del told herself she was prepared. But the man standing at the counter talking to Joe wasn’t what she’d prepared for.

  He was taller than she remembered. Much more so. Broader through the shoulders, although his hips and waist were as lean as she remembered. His long form had filled out and she suspected there was a lot of muscle hiding under the simple, white dress shirt. A plain, black leather belt held his badge and his weapon. He looked completely comfortable with both, and both suited him a lot better than Del would have imagined.

  His eyes were the same blue. Robin’s-egg blue, she used to tease him because they were an exact match for the Crayola crayons she used to color with when she was a child. Robin’s-egg had been her favorite. Thick, golden brown hair used to tumble into those eyes. Del had loved playing with that hair, pushing it back from his forehead, teasing him that his hair curled almost as much as hers.