Page 93 of Love is Angry

“She never reported it. There’s no rape kit or police file,” I say. “She was terrified. He threatened her. He kicked her father out of the building because she defied him.”

“Is that why he did it? Where’s your proof?”

The tentative hold I have over my temper is fraying. “Dad is a vindictive prick, Laura!”

“Yes, that’s true, but there’s no actual evidence.”

Body snatcher? Doppleganger? What on earth has gotten into her?

“Laura, you know damn well how many rapes go unreported in this country. You yourself said it, more than once, that just because it’s not reported, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. You know father’s reach and how vicious he can be.”

“I do,” she says calmly. “I suppose Sibel didn’t have any hard evidence to share, either?”

“Sibel doesn’t wantto talk to anybody, but she is living far above her means and in suspicious secrecy,” I say. “It’s no coincidence. Dad knows I’m digging into this, Laura, and he’s pissed. I’m pretty sure he’s having me followed, and I am willing to bet that he will stop at nothing in order to keep the past buried. The more he tries to push, the harder I will push back.”

“I know,” she says. “And the harder you push back, the more he’ll be driven to hide and destroy whatever evidence might be left. Listen to me, Rhue, because I know what I’m talking about. We could get every one of the women on mom’s list to come forward and tell what he did, publicly. They could all press charges. And you know what the result would be?”

“What?”

Laura pulls her shoulders back and bellows like a sports announcer. “Nothing! Not a damn thing!”

I wince as I hear echoes of reality in her words.

My heart sinks. “So what you’re telling me is that no matter what, someone’s life is going to be ruined as soon as this story breaks—and the chances of it being dad’s are slim to none.”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

I stand up, knocking my chair over in my frustration. “Then what the fuck is the point? What are we supposed to do, just let him get away with his bullshit forever? Let him keep fucking upinnocent women’s lives, let him rise to the top and have access to everything and everybody he wants forever? Is that what you’re telling me, Laura?”

“Will you calm down?” she snaps. “I can’t exactly dodge, you know.”

“I’m sorry.” I stand with my back to her, fists clenched tight against my thighs. Control, control—damn this temper.

“Why do you think I’ve been sitting on that diary for a year? Sexual assault accusations aren’t enough to put him away and I know it. But I also know—for a fact—that he has other skeletons in his closet. Skeletons whichwillget him put away as soon as they’re discovered.”

“Damn it, Laura, are you still thinking he killed Mom? Because literally nobody believes that except you.”

“The only thing that matters is what we can prove. Right now, this second, what can we prove about Dad? That he’s a cruel landlord? Whoopty-fucking-doo, they all are. That he’s got a coke habit? Shit, in our tax bracket and his age group, who doesn’t? That lots of women want to see him go down for sexual assault or harassment? Again—age group, gender group, tax bracket. He’s got nothing on him that his peers would find fault with. Unless he confesses and steps down or slips up and gets caught, we’ve gotnothing.”

I turn around in time to see her wipe frustrated tears away. God, I hate making her cry. It saps all the energy out of my temper and leaves me deflated.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m sorry. Hey—seriously, I am. I just don’t know what to do here. I mean—do you have a plan?”

She shrugs miserably. “I was kind of hoping that once you and Maddie both knew all the facts, that you’d be able to think of something. But going to the press with the story it just—it just isn’t the ‘gotcha’ moment.”

I don’t know if she notices that she touches her legs when she says that. I wrap my arms around her and hug her close, trying to give her whatever comfort I can.

“You’ll never know what kind of monster he is, Rhue,” she murmurs through her tears. “We all bear the burden of Julian’s secrets—sloughing them off will only crush each other.”

Chapter 41

Madison

I’ve been jumpy since Wednesday. I did have lunch with Noelle and gave her a lot—no one else’s name, though I did tell her that Roxanne told me (which, in a way, she did) that he’d assaulted lots of other women. Though we spoke quietly in a crowded bar in a strange neighborhood, I couldn’t help but feel exposed. She asked me if I knew where to get information on the other women; I told her I did, but that I couldn’t tell her where to find it. She asked me to gather whatever information I could and call her later.

Then I proceeded to spend three days jumping at shadows and imagining headlights tailing me.

At least Noelle was sympathetic. She told me she’d reach out to some of her contacts and try to get me some anonymous help for my anxiety if I wasn’t ready to go to therapy just yet. She told me to watch out for a phone call from a Rochester number, but that she’d try to text me before they called to give me a head’s up.

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