Home to Whiskey Creek (Whiskey Creek #4)(26)
Author: Brenda Novak

She imagined Kevin, Stephen, Tom and Derek sitting at home, watching TV with wives or girlfriends who had no idea that they’d raped a girl when they were younger. What would she do if she were one of those women? If she learned that the man she loved, the man who slept with her at night, had done something so heinous?

You tell anyone about graduation and I’ll kill you. I’ll stab the old lady, too.

One of those men was frightened that word would get out. They should all be frightened by the possible consequences. In California, there was no statute of limitations on aggravated rape, and aggravated rape included rape by more than one person. It’d been fifteen years, but they could still go to prison.

The only problem was…if she came forward, she’d have to face the consequences of her actions, too. And, even though part of her felt terribly guilty about Cody’s death, the psychologist who’d helped her recover, once she got out of school and had the money for therapy, insisted that none of it had been her fault. Dr. Rosenbaum said she’d been naive not to be more careful about the company she kept. But sixteen-year-olds were often too innocent for their own good. She’d said that Addy had done nothing to deserve what had happened, nothing to provoke them. Dr. R. also said she was required to report the assailants, but since Addy refused to give their names, that hadn’t gone very far.

Anyway, Addy knew she’d never speak up as long as Gran was alive, even if she decided to do so later. Dr. Rosenbaum had agreed that dragging it all to the forefront would probably do her more harm than good, since there was no guarantee that justice would be done, so she didn’t press her for the information.

After starting her truck, she drove two blocks over, to the high school. She was sitting there, staring at the stone face of the main hall and the words Eureka High when she noticed headlights coming up behind her.

A moment of panic made her heart skip a beat. She was afraid she should’ve listened to Gran once again, until she saw the police decal on the side of the door.

Sagging in relief, she rolled down her window as Chief Stacy pulled alongside her.

“There you are,” he said. “Your grandmother told me you were out, but damned if I could find you.”

“You’ve been looking for me?”

He smiled. “I have great news.”

Addy tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Given that he was searching for a man she didn’t want caught, she wasn’t sure his idea of good news would match hers.

His next words confirmed it. “I’ve found the owner of that knife.”

She imagined, as she so often had, what it would be like if the whole nasty truth came out. Some of the citizens of Whiskey Creek would take sides, probably a lot of them. She’d have her champions, but she’d also have her detractors, people who remained stubbornly loyal to the men who’d raped her. Noah and his family would likely go into denial and refuse to believe Cody could do such a thing. They’d be furious that she’d dare besmirch his memory. And if the case went to trial, the defense attorneys would do all they could to portray her as asking for what she got by dressing too scantily, or coming on to Cody, or…something.

Maybe it wouldn’t even go to trial. She could claim they’d raped her, but how would she prove it at this late date?

Nothing was ever cut-and-dried, especially in a small town like this, where the Rackhams and their friends held so much sway. Only one thing was certain: no one would come out of it unscathed.

“Who—” she cleared her throat “—who is it?”

“Officer Jones went to pick him up. They’ll meet us at the station.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’d like you to come see for yourself, see if anything about him is familiar from that night.”

* * *

Aaron Amos?

Addy almost sank to the ground in relief when she saw who was sitting in the hard, plastic chair at the police station. There was no way Aaron could be the man who’d attacked her. He had no connection to what had happened in the mine, hadn’t even been invited to the party.

“You have the wrong man,” she said before Chief Stacy could ask.

“What?” He signaled for Officer Jones, who’d been sitting with Aaron, to step aside.

“It can’t be him,” she insisted. He’d have no way of knowing about the night Cody died, much less have a reason for dragging her back to where it had occurred. Besides, she hardly knew Aaron. Although they’d been in the same grade, they’d been on opposite ends of the social spectrum. She’d been a straight-A student, at the top of her class; he’d gotten himself kicked out of school several times for fighting or ditching, and barely managed to graduate. They’d had no real interaction. She couldn’t think of a less likely culprit.

“Told you I didn’t do it.” Aaron stood as if to walk out, but Stacy blocked the exit.

“Hold on a sec. You sit down. We’re not through here.”

“Of course we aren’t,” Aaron responded. “Any time you can think of an excuse to harass me, you do it.”

“You’re going to get yourself into even more trouble if you don’t shut your damn mouth,” Stacy warned.

Aaron plopped back in his seat. He was bigger than Addy remembered, and still handsome in a rebel sort of way—but edgier, more hard-bitten and angry. He was, after all, one of the Fearsome Five, as the Amos boys had come to be called. Ever since their father went to prison for knifing a man during a bar fight, they’d been left to shift for themselves. Dylan, the oldest, had dropped out of school at eighteen and taken over his father’s auto body shop. He’d managed to turn the business around and keep his brothers together—and now that they were older, he kept them employed—but he hadn’t managed to steer them out of trouble. There was some question as to whether he’d tried very hard; before his marriage to Cheyenne, he’d often been a participant. Addy had been living in Davis an hour and a half away and yet she knew Aaron and his brothers had been arrested from time to time. Ed loved to report on the hell-raising Amoses.

Chief Stacy turned to her. “How do you know it’s not him? This son of a bitch has always been a troublemaker.”

“That doesn’t make him guilty of abducting me.”

“He owns the knife I found in your plants.” He lifted the knife from the center of the table, as if seeing it might remind her of how damning this evidence was. “Who else could it be?”