Page 26 of Petty's Crime

And to be honest, I have no answer. When Saul hit me the first time, he was taking his anger out on me for something that wasn’t my fault—a bad day at the office and an argument with his boss. Maybe that was why it had been easier for me to say once was enough and to walk away. I hadn’t had any excuses to make for myself and could find none for him.

When he’d come crawling to me with apologies, I wasn’t going to give him another chance. If he’d done it once, he could do it again. Any desire I’d had for him had become tainted by distrust. My parents had brought me up to know my own worth, and my value was higher than being a punching bag for any man.

I’d put it politely, set out why our relationship wouldn’t work. That’s when Saul had turned nasty and had beaten the hell out of me.

But despite me knowing nothing I’d done had justified him turning on me, part of me wondered what it was about me that had made him violent. Had he thought I was weak? A pushover? A convenient outlet to vent his frustrations on? Was there a sign over my head that screamed victim?

That’s part of the reason I started working out. No man would ever see me as weak again.

Before Petty had started speaking, I’d been wallowing in self-pity, wondering whether I’d ever dare go back to my house. But his question had fired me up. Now I glare as I respond, “Of course that would be what you think. That I’d done something to deserve Saul’s treatment of me. What do you think, Petty? What could I have done to make the man fill my house with poisonous snakes?”

“Venomous,” he corrects me. While I’m not a violent person, his comment makes me want to slap him around the face.

“Instead of thinking there’s something wrong with him, you think the fault lies with me. Fucking typical,” I spit out. As he sucks in air, I lean forward, my sadness and shock disappearing, being replaced by indignation. “Don’t you fucking think I’ve gone over this a million times in my head? Don’t you think it keeps me awake at night? Not so much that it happened in the first place but that Saul is intent on ruining my life. Why don’t you think on what kind of man it takes to do that? Perhaps if you tried to think the way he does, you’d have more luck finding him.”

He rears back, surprised at my vehemence. For once, I’ve got him off balance, but he quickly recovers. “I can’t think the way he does,” he rasps. “I know you don’t think much of me, RoseLyn, but I’ve no time for a man who can hurt a woman.” Obviously recalling how he started this conversation he emphasises, “Whatever the provocation, nothing can justify what he did, or what he’s doing to you. And, in asking what you did, I was trying to find out how he thinks. So help me out here. How did you get involved with him in the first place?”

The glance he gives me appears both genuine and contrite, so, relenting a little, I tell him, “He moved to my hometown while I was in college. It’s not an unusual story. We met in a bar when I was out with friends. He bought me a drink and we started talking, I thought he was nice. Having things in common, we began dating, and that progressed to him asking me to move in with him.” I break off, and run over that time in my mind, but I’m still unable to see that I’d missed any red flags. “He said he loved me. So, I did.”

“You were living with your parents at the time?”

I nod, then realising he’s focusing on the road, explain, “I’m an only child, and they have always been overprotective. But they were also aware of the danger of smothering me, so as I would be staying close by, they didn’t make an issue when I moved out. They liked Saul.” I break off, biting my lip as I remember how he had us all fooled. “He was a lawyer working for a local firm, prospect of becoming a partner, and he treated me as a good man should do.”

“You say he loved you. You love him?”

I turn and look at him sharply, and for a moment watch him drive, noticing how he’s constantly looking in the mirrors as well as the road in front. He’s being vigilant and I know he’s making sure we’re not followed. Despite that I think he’s an ass, his competence helps me to relax.

I gaze out the windshield and give him a truthful response. “I thought I did, but I was young. Now, looking back, I think it was as much the excitement of something new. My friends were finding partners and shacking up with them, and now I had my chance. I was happy enough and committed to him, and I thought we were getting on well.” That’s why what Saul had done had come as such a shock.

“Until he turned.”

“Until he turned,” I agree, and shiver. “I couldn’t put up with that.”

Petty visibly tenses and it annoys me so much I give an exasperated huff. Does he expect I should have stayed with Saul after he’d shown me who he really was? I don’t understand how that would agree with his statement he abhors violence to women. Surely he’d be on my side?

“Where is he?” The question’s asked under his voice so it makes me wonder whether he’s even talking to me. “What does he want from you? Is it money?”

The final part is definitely addressed to me. “Money?” I snort. “He’s barking up the wrong tree if that’s it. I don’t have money.”

“Even with what you’re earning?” As he glances at me, I see his eyes widen.

Huffing a laugh, I enlighten him. “I’ve a residency at a minor hotel in Vegas. I’ve no recording contract. I make enough to live comfortably on, but not enough to have an extravagant lifestyle.”

His brow creases. “But you’ve got opportunities. Bart said you were going places.”

My shoulders rise then fall. “Maybe. There have been a few talent scouts, but I’m not getting my hopes up. There’s so much competition. Even if I was ambitious, I’m not sure I’d want to step into that cutthroat world.”

“So you’re happy doing what you’re doing?”

Why shouldn’t I be? I give a slight up and down move of my head. While the thought of producing records and getting myself a name that’s known nationally is enticing, I thrive on the relationship between me and my audience. I love performing live. If a contract comes up, I wouldn’t turn it down, but I’m not going out of my way to chase it.

We get to the hotel and Petty, after cautiously circling once more around the neighbourhood, parks out of sight around the back. It’s not one of the big names and off the strip, but when we go inside, it’s clean and comfortable looking. Petty takes care of getting the key cards and escorting me up to my room. Once there, he opens the door to the adjoining suite and nods in satisfaction.

“Sarge will be staying in there,” he informs me.

I’m relieved I won’t be here on my own. Saul’s antics are escalating. Warning letters, notes left on my car and flowers delivered are one thing, but leaving snakes in my house? If I’d entered alone, I think the shock by itself would have killed me.

It’s wearing me down. As I timidly unpack my bag, worried that I might find a lurking snake they’ve missed, I allow myself the luxury of anger directed toward the motherfucker who thinks he’s got a right to make my life a misery.How dare he?

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