Justify - Trent (Kimball Brothers #2) Read online

  She frowns and focuses her attention on my lips, reaching for her purse on the table.

  “Ang!” Joaquin calls out to her, “don’t listen to him! He’s lying baby—”

  But she ignores him and leaves the trailer a few seconds later.

  I sock him in the mouth to shut him up, rattling his teeth. “Shut the fuck up,” I demand, pulling him up, “get up, and get dressed. We’re leaving.”

  “Yeah, like hell I am,” Joaquin slurs, stumbling toward the couch.

  He’s shit faced—probably rolling too—and it’s barely 12 p.m. “Look, I didn’t know it was your sister, alright?”

  “Alright?” I laugh, brushing my hair out of my face, “are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

  I hit him again, this time breaking open the stitching on his right cheek. I can picture Alma’s small hands picking up the liquor bottle and breaking it against his face and I can’t help but smile. She put up a fight whether she remembers it or not.

  “You think that somehow makes it alright? That you didn’t fuckin’ know it was my sister?”

  I reach for a half-full bottle of Jack on the table and pour the dark liquid onto the carpet, angling the bottle a few inches from his face. “One more time—you’re coming with me to the station, and you’re going to tell the Detectives assigned to this case exactly what happened, that clear? If it ain’t bad enough that you raped my sister, you also got everyone in town believing that I did it, and that just ain’t gonna fly, now is it?”

  “Fine,” Joaquin relents, limping toward his bedroom, “let me just get a shirt.”

  I nod, surveying my surroundings. The place is filthy, covered in trash, plates of half eaten food, empty liquor bottles, and drug paraphernalia—all of which overlook a case of long-forgotten trophies and metals. If there’s anywhere that dreams go to die, it’s definitely here.

  “Hurry the fuck up!” I yell, but Joaquin doesn’t respond.

  I enter his bedroom and sure enough, he’s nowhere to be found and the window is wide open.

  “Shit!” I yell, slamming my fist against the wall.

  I storm out of the trailer just as his firebird starts up. I try to block his path but he peels through the yard instead, knocking down his neighbor’s mailbox in the process.

  And just like that, he’s gone.

  * * *

  “Look, I told you,” I say, adjusting in my chair, “he admitted it to me! He fuckin’ flat out admitted it. There was a woman there too, Angie—I don’t know her last name but…”

  I sigh, narrowing my eyes at a visibly amused Detective Stevens. “Look—why do I get the feeling that you aren’t taking any of this seriously?”

  Detective Stevens shrugs and takes a drink of his coffee. “So, let me get this straight,” he says, waving a hand in my face, “you come here, wild eyed, with another mans blood on your shirt, with a necklace that could belong to anybody, and one hell of a story—and you think we’re just going to—what? Take your word for it?”

  “No,” I say evenly, taking a deep breath to keep my composure, “but I would think you would at least investigate it…”

  He laughs and shakes his head, sliding me a folder with my name stamped on the top. “Go on,” he says with a nod, “open it up and give it a read.”

  I sigh and flip it open. Each page lists a separate indiscretion of mine, dated all the way back to my teen years. I shake my head. “I don’t see how this is relevant,” I say, sliding it back to him, “this shit is the past. You can’t just assume I’m guilty because of my record.”

  “We aren’t assuming anything, son, we have a statement. Signed and dated by your sister, naming you as the prime suspect. Would you like to see it again?”

  I slam my fist on the table. “I’m telling you, she has it wrong! Look, Joaquin has a capped tooth too, and he chews tobacco, I saw a bunch of empty packs at his house. And on top of that, Melissa said he came into the hospital the night Alma was raped needing stitches. Just—why won’t you fuckin’ listen to me?”

  My last words come out strained.

  “Melissa Carthers?” Detective Stevens sits up straighter. “Your girlfriend, correct?”

  “Yeah,” I breathe, “I mean, I guess…”

  He nods and opens up my folder, flipping through the pages. “The same one whose younger sister, Elizabeth Carthers, gave a statement saying you assaulted her back in 1996?”

  Holy shit.

  “Look…it wasn’t even like that…” I start, “she revoked her statement remember? It shouldn’t even be in there! We we’re just kids. She got upset because I didn’t want to have a relationship with her after we hooked up and…”

  I pause.

  “Nothing I say matters, does it?”

  Detective Stevens shrugs and closes the folder. “Look,” he says, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I’ll send a patrol car out to look for Joaquin and we’ll get his side of the story. But like I told you before, if I were you, Trent—I’d lawyer up. Stop trying to play detective. That’s my job, aright?”

  Chapter 6

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  I shove Cain’s lanky frame out of the doorway and enter Melissa’s house, pulling off my shirt.

  “Look, I’m really not in the mood, kid.”

  Cain laughs and sits back down on the couch, pulling his feet up under himself. He unpauses his videogame and continues playing, nodding at me.

  “She ain’t home yet. She’s working a double.”

  “I know,” I grunt, grabbing a first aid kit from a cabinet in the kitchen. Joaquin didn’t do much damage to me, but there are a few superficial scratches along my neck and jaw line. I pull some antibiotic out of the kit and rub it on, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

  “You hungry?” I ask him, surveying the contents of the freezer for something to cook.

  “No,” he mumbles, not looking away from the television, “besides what makes you think I would eat anything prepared by you anyway?”

  I roll my eyes and pop a pizza in the oven, turning it on. “You got a real smart mouth, kid, you know that?”

  “Yeah, because I definitely give a shit what a rapist think about me.”

  I storm into the living room and shut off the TV.

  “Hey what the fuck—” Cain starts, but I snatch the controller from his bony hands before he can finish his sentence.

  “Look,” I say, pointing at him, “I didn’t fuckin’ rape anyone, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d cool it, think you can do that?”

  Cain laughs. “Why should I believe you?”

  “You don’t have to,” I retort, “I really don’t give a shit. But what you do have to do is shut the fuck up, because I’ve had a hard enough day as it is and I don’t need you in my ear.”

  “Yeah? Well, no one is forcing you to be here. But wait, there’s probably a lynch mob waiting for you back at home, right?”

  I laugh and throw the controller back in his lap, popping the seal off the beer in my hand and taking a long drink. He turns the TV back on and continues playing, waving me out of the way. I sit down on the couch beside him and pull off my boots.

  “It wasn’t me, kid.”

  Cain grunts but doesn’t say anything.

  “It was Joaquin Rae,” I continue, rubbing a kink out of my neck, “he admitted it to me, well—I kind of had to beat it out of him—but still.”

  “Joaquin Rae?” Cain furrows his brows and pauses the game, suddenly interested. “Triumphs golden boy?”

  I manage a laugh. “Yeah, not so much anymore. They fired him.”

  “How did you figure out it was him?” he questions, “not that I believe you, or anything…”

  I roll my eyes. “I found this,” I say, handing him the necklace and pointing to the pendant, “where it happened. Those are his initials. I have one too, see.”

  I point to the necklace around my own neck. “We all got them at some point or another. Now tell me, what would Joaquin’s be doing
at the place where my sister was raped?”

  “Oh, then there’s the fact that your ma’ said he came into the hospital that night needing stitches…”

  “Shit,” Cain breathes, swallowing hard, “so it really wasn’t you?”

  I nudge him in the shoulder. “You don’t need to sound so shocked, kid.”

  “Sorry, you gotta admit, though,” he glances at me, “it definitely seemed like you did it.”

  “Yeah well…I’m used to going down for shit I didn’t do…not this though.” I shake my head, taking another sip of my beer. “Anyway, I tried to tell the cops but they aren’t buying it. Jackasses.”

  “Why not?”

  I shrug. “I don’t exactly have a shining record with the Logan County Police Department.”

  The timer on the oven beeps, signaling that the pizza is done. I stand up to pull it out and cut two slices, slapping them onto a plate and handing it over to Cain before serving myself. The kid is barely a hundred pounds wet even though he eats nothing but junk. Melissa worries about him nonstop even though he probably just has a fast metabolism.

  “So,” Cain says through mouthfuls, “what are you going to do, then?”

  I fold my slice in half and bite into it, swallowing it with a sip of beer. “I don’t know,” I say, thinking it over, “the son of a bitch probably skipped town. But, they can’t pick me up unless they have solid proof that I did it, so I figure I’m safe. They won’t find anything. Convincing my family is what’s going to be a bitch…they’ve pretty much exiled me…not that I blame em’…”

  “Why not just tell them exactly what you told me?”

  “No shit,” I say, “It’s getting my brothers to listen to me instead of beating my ass on sight that’s the hard part. You saw how Macon got when he came here earlier. I don’t need my professional boxer brother putting my ass in a coma over some shit I didn’t do.”

  “Right,” Cain nods, reaching for my beer, but I slap his hand away.

  “Nice try, kid,” I say, “I saw some kool-aide in the fridge.”

  I watch him stand up and pour a glass. “Why not call them?” he says glancing at me over his shoulder, “that can’t go too bad right?”

  It’s not entirely a bad idea.

  I pull out my phone and power it on. I have four unread text messages and one voice mail. With a sigh, I navigate to my inbox and read through the texts. Its just Melissa asking me to call her. I put in the password to my voicemail and press the phone against my ear.

  “Trent, It’s me. Look, there’s something you need to know. It’s kind of important. Call me back as soon as you get this.”

  I stand up and step into Melissa’s bedroom, shutting the door behind myself. She picks up on the third ring.

  “Trent?”

  “Yeah, what’s up? I got your voicemail and texts. Look, sorry I got off the phone so abruptly earlier…”

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” she interrupts, keeping her voice low. “Are you alone?”

  “Yeah…”

  She exhales a deep breath.

  “I was looking at Joaquin’s file again. And—Trent, was he the one who raped Alma?”

  I sigh.

  Melissa is anything if not smart. There’s really no sense in trying to keep anything from her; she always seems to put two and two together eventually.

  “Yeah,” I say, reaching for her cloves on the table and lighting one. I furrow my brows, pausing with the smoke a few inches from my lips. “Why…what’s up?”

  “Trent—” Her voice cracks.

  Whatever she has to say, it ain’t good.

  “There was something on Joaquin’s blood report that you should know about.”

  Chapter 7

  “You’re doing the right thing, you know.”

  Melissa pulls away from me and grabs a band-aid, wrapping it around my finger. “These tests are usually instant, but because you were exposed to the virus within 24 hours…well it can typically take a month before anything shows up…you’ll have to come in again, most likely…”

  “Right,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I know how it works, I uh…checked online. Before I left your house.”

  “Trent…”

  Melissa slides onto the examination table beside me and takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “You know, the chances of you getting it are slim to none. Joaquin only scratched you, right?”

  I jump slightly at the sensation of her small fingers trailing over the scratch marks on my neck.

  “Yeah,” I say, clenching my jaw, “I ain’t worried about me.”

  I turn to look at her.

  She’s beautiful, there’s no denying that. I watch her eyelashes flutter against her pale cheeks as her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes trying to find the right words to say to me. She’s fragile, always has been, but she hides it during waking hours; not that I can’t read her like a book.

  “Right,” she whispers, “you’re thinking about Alma.”

  I meet eyes with her and I nod, swallowing hard. “I mean…he raped her…and ain’t that a crime? Fucking around when you know you’re infected? I mean Joaquin…he has an old lady…I saw her at his place. Do you think she knows?”

  “Trent,” Melissa says my name a second time, pressing a hand against my chest, “you have to slow down, baby. Alma got a rape kit done. If anything abnormal comes up in the results, we’ll know. But even then…the chances are slim…”

  I nod. “Look, I have to go,” I say, sliding off the table, “I need to tell the Detective on the case about this…”

  “Wait!” Melissa calls after me. She reaches for my arm and pulls me away from the door. “You can’t. Look, Trent—a patients file is confidential…I could get in a lot of trouble for sharing this with you…”

  I frown. “So what are you saying? I should just forget it?”

  Melissa shifts on her feet and pushes a loose strand of red hair behind her ear, biting down on her bottom lip. “No,” she whispers, “you should tell them, of course, just—you can’t tell them how you found out...”

  She looks over my shoulder to make sure the coast is clear, then she meets eyes with me, a clash of brown on blue. “Please,” she says, keeping her voice low, “I could lose my job.”

  I reach down to caress her cheek. “Don’t worry,” I say, pressing a kiss against her temple, “I won’t involve you. I’ll say I asked around. That I heard it in town or something.”

  Melissa nods and lets go of my hand.

  “I’ll see you later, alright?”

  “Alright,” she says, then,

  “Hey…Trent…”

  I turn around to look at her with my hand on the doorframe.

  “Yeah?”

  She swallows hard, giving me a soft smile and stepping forward to caress my cheek.

  “I love you.”

  She doesn’t though.

  We’ve done this dance before, too many times to count. But what we do have works for us. It’s funny, in a way; that a woman with a heart of gold and a man shrouded in stone would find a way to fit together.

  I smile back at her.

  I’ve always felt like poison but she’s as good an antidote as any.

  “I know.”

  * * *

  1 New Text Message

  From: Macon

  Yeah, fine. I’ll meet you. Where at?

  I exhale a deep breath, allowing my bare feet to graze the water.

  At the creek, I reply, you know the place.

  Because he does—Macon, Griff and I have been coming here since we were kids. Whenever our parents became too much of a pain in the ass to handle, we’d ditch our shoes and come here to sit on the edge of the dock and skinny dip.

  We were never too hard to keep entertained.

  Macon arrives a few minutes later. I hear our dad’s Ford before I see him, then, footsteps in the grass as he crunches his way toward me. He approaches me from behind and slides down beside me, removing hi
s shoes and socks and rolling up the bottoms of his jeans.

  He’s not alone, of course. I should be surprised but I’m not.

  “Cassandra,” I say nodding at the girl.

  She gives me this look that I can’t quite decipher and takes a seat beside my brother, removing her shoes. The three of us sit in silence for a long time.

  “So what is it?” Macon asks, “it better be good.”

  I look at Cassandra again.

  She’s wringing her hands, staring out at the water. She isn’t exactly Macon’s usual type. Not by a long shot. But she seems nice enough, objectively speaking.

  “Look, you need to know,” I start, clearing my throat, “both of you, actually, that I didn’t do that to Alma…”

  Cassandra meets eyes with me and furrows her brows, clenching her tiny jaw. “So you’re saying she’s lying?”

  “Right,” Macon pipes in, “sounds like it to me.”

  “Look,” I continue, pulling the necklace from my pocket, “I don’t think she’s lying. I just…I think she’s confused.”

  I hand the chain to Macon and he takes it, holding it up in the sunlight.

  “Joaquin Rae,” he says after a few minutes, turning to look at me, “where did you get this? And what does it have to do with anything?”

  I swallow hard.

  “That,” I say with a nod, “was found where Alma was raped, along with a bunch of broken glass. Then—I talked to Melissa and I found out that Joaquin came into the hospital the night Alma was raped needing stitches. You still following?”

  Cassandra looks as confused as ever, but there’s a level of clarity in my brothers expression. “You’re saying he did this?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I confronted him about it, beat it out of him. The Detective on the case won’t believe me, big surprise there, but he did it. You have to believe me. Look, he has a gold tooth too.” I point to my own. “Alma is just confused. That’s all.”

  Macon doesn’t say anything for a long time. He glances at Cassandra and takes her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “Joaquin Rae is…this guy Trent and I used to train with,” he tells her, “he’s always been kind of a dick.”