Page 87 of Resist

Sterling

The rainingof sharp knocks at my car window pulls me out of my stupor. “Sterling?” Mom yells like the glass isn’t thin enough to hear through. “You’re spooking my neighbors sitting out here in your car like a creepy lurker. Come inside!” She tries the door handle, but it’s locked. “Sterling, you’ve been out here for ages. Get out of the car, and come in before someone calls the police.”

It’s dusk, but she must see movement across the street in one of the neighbor’s windows because she holds up her hand. “It’s okay, Gladys. It’s just my Sterling. He’s coming in now, no need to shit your pants.”

I can’t help laughing. Mom’s always been a fairly flagrant cuss-er, even though some of her social circle are somewhat hoity toity.

I unlock the door, and Mom acts immediately. “Get in off the street, Sterling Montgomery. We’re the talk of the subdivision.” She ushers me inside, making sure the door latches and locks behind me. When she turns to face me in the light of the porch, her jaw drops on an almost comedic gasp.

“Sterling, what the fuck happened? You look awful.”

Tessa comes bounding out of the living room like a guard dog at the commotion. Of course she’s here. She’s always here. She’s such a good daughter. She visits Mom way more than I do. She’s the better child. “Lingy, what happened? Mom’s right, you look like crap. Is it Cora? Did something happen to her?” Her eyes are wide, and full of concern.

I shake my head, trying to push down the swelling ball of cotton in the back of my throat. I can’t bring Tessa into this mess. Mom told me she didn’t know, couldn’t know, and I need to protect her from that.

Mom guides me into the kitchen, pats my back as I plop onto the dining room chair, then opens the cupboard under the sink and pulls out a bottle of some kind of golden brown liquor. Scotch? “Drink this.” She hands me a glass with two fingers of alcohol inside. We’re a coffee household by nature, but when shit hits the fan, Mom breaks out the hard stuff.

“Sterling, say something. You’re creeping me out.” Tessa squeezes my hand as though she’s hoping it’ll make me talk.

My eyes meet Mom’s as she walks three mugs from the kitchen to the dining room and places them on the table. She nods. “Say what you need to say, son. She deserves to know, too.”

Tessa’s head snaps back and forth between Mom and me, her eyes getting wider and wider. “What? Tell me what?”

“Corabelle’s father assaulted Mom when she worked as a secretary for Blackwell Publishing a number of years ago.”

Tessa blinks slowly as the words sink in, she stays quiet, so I continue.

“Ironically, I applied for a job when her father was still alive. It was only after he died and I spoke to Mom that my motivation changed to vengeance. I was maybe even going to extort money out of them for Mom, threaten his company, his legacy.” My jaw is tight, and my knuckles whiten as I grip the mug on the table in front of me with both hands.

“Sterling!” Mom’s hands fly to her mouth, but I can’t bring myself to look at her to see what the rest of her looks like. I can imagine she’s a mixture of shocked and epically pissed, that’s not a look I want to see.

“Friday before I started work, I met a woman at the club. She told me her name was Cecelia. We had a connection, a spark, we started... something, I guess.” I scrub at the back of my neck with a clammy palm. Fuck, this is hard. “I didn’t know who she was at first. But when I found out, I was shocked. Then I heard her asshole dad left instructions in his will that she can’t have the company unless she marries a man first, I figured...”

“Oh, Sterling.” Mom’s hands are still in front of her face as she moans my name, her disappointment curdling my stomach.

“I figured I could get a foot in the door. I could marry her for a couple years to check the box she needed me to tick. Meanwhile, I could investigate behind the scenes, you know? Poke around in her office, talk to some of the employees, see if I could get some more evidence.”

“No.” Tessa’s shaking her head, her eyes filled with what can only be described as horror. “You fake married a woman you didn’t know, a woman whose father raped our mother... to try to compile evidence against a dead man? Sterling.” She grabs me by the shoulders and shakes, hard, so hard that my brain rattles against my skull. “Do. You. Know. How. Stupid. That. Is?” Her words are punctuated by shakes of my body.

“I thought she might know about her father’s antics, maybe even helped cover them up. Or that someone else in the company might have.”

Michael’s sleazy-creep face comes to mind. I bet that fucker has helped mitigate Corabelle’s father’s indiscretions. He might even have indulged in hurting women himself.

Bastard.

I cover my face with my hands. “In hindsight, I realize I might have been a little blinded by rage, a little overzealous with my vengeful urges. If I’d taken a moment andreallygotten to know her first I’d have known she’s not capable of knowing about something like that and simply turning a blind eye.”

My words are muted by my palms, but Tessa still says, “No shit.”

“And do you really think a man like Mr. Blackwell would leave a trail of evidence for anyone to find after his death? You think he’d risk everything he’d built?” Mom shakes her head. “I wish it was that simple, Sterling. I really do.”

Tessa reaches out to touch Mom’s hand. “Mom, I’m so sorry you went through that.” She throws her arms around her, and sits holding her, both of them crying, for a long time.

“Did you get a rape kit done?” Tessa eventually sniffs, wiping her face and wiping Mom’s too.

Mom nods, and I almost fall on the floor.

“You’re kidding.”

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