'It's more complicated th--'
'. . . you're horny . . .'
'This isn't about you.'
'. . . you're desperate . . .'
'Stop it, Michael.'
'. . . you're bored . . .'
'I said stop it!'
'. . . or it's against your will.'
Nora falls dead silent.
Oh, God.
Crossing her arms, she wraps them around her torso and tucks her chin toward her chest.
'Did he . . .'
She raises her eyes just enough for me to see the first tears. They stream down her face and slowly trickle down her thin neck.
'He molested you?'
She turns away.
A sharp fire rips a hole in my stomach. I'm not sure if it's rage or pain. All I know is it hurts. 'When did it happen?' I ask.
'You don't underst--'
'Was it more than once?'
'Please, Michael, please don't do this,' she begs.
'No,' I tell her. 'You need this.'
'It's not what you think--it's only since--'
'Only!? How long has it been going on?'
Once again, dead silence. A piece of wood creaks in the corner. She keeps her eyes locked on the floor. Her voice is tiny. 'Since I was eleven.'
'Eleven?' I cry. 'Oh, Nora . . .'
'Please--please don't tell anyone!' she begs. 'Please, Michael!' Floodgates open. The tears come fast. 'I . . . I have to . . . I don't have money!'
'What do you mean you don't have money?'
She's breathing heavily--panting through her sobs. 'For the drugs!' she sobs. 'It's just the drugs!'
As she says the words, I feel the blood drain from my face. That sick dominating bastard. He keeps her trapped by drugs in exchange for--
'Please, Michael, promise you won't say anything! Please!'
I can't stand hearing her beg. Sobbing uncontrollably, with her arms still wrapped around herself, she just stands there--in her self-made cocoon--afraid to reach out.
Since the day we met, I've seen a side of Nora Hartson that she'd never reveal to the public. As a friend and a liar, a lunatic and a lover. As a bored rich kid, a fear-nothing thrill-seeker, an odds-defying gambler, and even, for the briefest of moments, as a perfect daughter-in-law. I've seen her everywhere in between. But never as a victim.
I won't let her go through this alone. There's no need for alone. I cover her with my embrace.
'I'm sorry,' she cries as she crumbles in my arms. 'I'm so sorry.'
'It's okay,' I tell her, rubbing her back. 'It's all going to be okay.' But even as I say the words, both of us know it's not. However it started, Lawrence Lamb has ruined her life. When someone steals your childhood, you never get it back.
Rocking back and forth, I use the same technique I use on my dad. She doesn't need words; she just needs soothing.
'Y-You should . . .' Nora begins, her head buried against my shoulder. 'You should get out of here.'
'Don't worry. No one knows we're--'
'He's coming,' she whispers. 'I had to tell him. He's on his way.'
'Who's on his way?'
There's a steady thunk as he bounds up the stairs. I spin around and the answer comes from the deep, calm voice in the corner of the room. 'Get away from her, Michael,' Lawrence Lamb says. 'I think you've already done enough.'
Chapter 39
At the sound of his voice, I feel every muscle in Nora's back tense. First, I think it's anger. It's not. It's fear.
Like a child caught stealing from her mother's purse, she pulls away from me and wipes her face. Lightning speed. Like nothing ever happened.
I turn toward Lamb, wondering what she's so afraid of.
'I tried to stop him,' Nora blurts, 'but he--'
'Shut up,' Lamb snaps.
'You don't understand, Uncle Larry, I--'
'You're a liar,' he says in a low monotone. Moving toward her, his shoulders are pitched, barely restrained in his flawlessly tailored Zegna suit. He glides like a panther. Slow, calculating, as his ice blue eyes drill into Nora. The closer he gets, the more she shrinks backwards.
'Don't touch her!' I warn.
He doesn't stop. Straight at Nora. That's all he sees.
She races to the files, pointing down at the open box. She's shaking uncontrollably. 'S-See . . . here it is--j-j- just like I . . .'
He points at her, extending a single, manicured finger. His voice is a whispered roar. 'Nora--'
She shuts up. Dead silent.
Thrusting his hand at her throat, he grabs her by the neck, holds her at arm's length, and scans the pile of files at her feet. Her arms go ragdoll; her legs are quivering. She can barely stand up.
I'm paralyzed just watching it. 'Get off her!'
Once again, he doesn't even look my way. All he does is glare at Nora. She tries to squirm free, but he grips her tighter. 'What did I tell you about fighting?' She goes back to ragdoll, her head lowered, refusing to face me. Lamb looks to the floor and smiles that thin, haunting grin. I can read it in the smug look on his face. He's seen the files. He knows what I found. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a silver Zippo lighter with the presidential seal on it. 'Take this,' he says to Nora. She stands frozen. 'Take it!' he shouts, forcing it into her hands. 'Listen to me when I talk to you! Do you want to be unhappy? Is that what you want?'
That's it. Enough melodrama. I race toward them at full speed. 'I said, get the hell off h--'
He spins around and pulls out a gun. A small pistol. Pointed right at me. 'What'd you say?' he asks.
I stop in my tracks and raise my hands.
'Exactly,' Lamb growls.
Next to him, Nora's trembling. But for the first since Lamb arrived, she's looking at me.
Lamb yanks her chin, jerking her head back toward him. 'Who's talking to you!? Me or him? Me or him!?' Grabbing her by the throat, he pulls her close and whispers in her ear. 'Remember what you told me? Well, it's time to keep the promise.' He slides his hand to her shoulder and pushes down, trying to force her to her knees. Her legs are buckling, but at least she's resisting.
'Fight him, Nora!' I call out, only a few feet away.
'Last warning,' he says as he points the gun at me. Turning back to Nora, he makes sure I get a good look. With a tight grip on her throat, he slides his gun toward her mouth. 'Do you want me to get mad at you? Is that what you want?' As he presses the barrel against her lips, she shakes her head no. He pushes harder. The tip of the gun scratches against her gritted teeth. Her knees start to give way. 'Please, Nora . . . it's me. It's just me. We can . . . we can fix it--like it was.' She looks up and all she sees is him. Slowly, she lets the gun slip between her lips. A tear runs down her cheek. Lamb smiles. And Nora gives in. One final push sends her crumbling to her knees.
