Page 99 of Danger Close
That explained why she never got any of the money I sent—why she thought I abandoned her.
It wasn’t one big misunderstanding. It was orchestrated by Raymond fucking Clark.
The third man, whose bruised face looked as soft as an over boiled potato, began to cry. She kicked him in the mouth, and yelled.
“Shut the fuck up.” She swept her hand over her pixie-short black hair, smoothing it back behind her ear. “I’m talking.”
She turned back to me and smiled.
“He starts coming over with cooked meals, offering to help with the kid and yada yada yada. They moved in together a year later. Nothing happens for about eight years. Then, Teresa Guerro suddenly becomes very…clumsy.”
Her last word was heavy with implication. “She started going to the hospitala lot.She was tripping down the stairs, slamming her face into door knobs, slipping on ice on the driveway… I mean, Teresa Guerro was a delicate bitch that seemed to bruise like an overripe apple—”
“Watch it,” I growled. She was making a damn point. I knew it. But I was about to go into a homicidal rage if she kept disparaging my wife, even hyperbolically. “Or you’ll figure out exactly how artistic a murderer I am.”
“Oh, Guerro, you’re going to want to save that for what comes next.” She gave me two finger-guns, with apew-pew.“The firsttime anyone said anything was Dr. Annie Zhou, who worked at a Florida ICU. Her cousin is a Uyghur from China. You’re familiar with Uyghurs, no? Who am I kidding? Of course, you are! Anyway, the good Dr.Zhou wrote down that her patient—that’s Teresa Guerro, by the way—confided inher that she was the victim of domestic abuse. Dr. Zhou and the nursing staff arranged for her daughter to be at the hospital as they closed down the floor to anyone called Raymond Clark, and had his picture on the wall, to ensure that he was removed from the premises anytime he entered. And he didn’t enter. He complied. Hemaliciouslycomplied.”
She shook her head. “Two days later, Teresa Guerro recants her story and goes home with Raymond.”
“Why the fuck didn’t anyone stop that? Why weren’t the police called? Why—”
“Here’s the thing.” She snapped her fingers, and winced. It was a genuine expression of frustration and not just her dramatics. “I looked into that. I am nothing if not a thorough bitch. It’s only mandated that they report if she’s in a vulnerable population… like if she was pregnant, for example. Otherwise, the cops and the doctors can’t do anything unless the victim lets them.”
“How many fucking people die because—”
“A lot.” She interrupted. “A lot of women die of domestic violence because the system fails them. The numbers are staggering.”
She sighed, then stood still, her stare distant until one of the bastards on the ground groaned, bringing her back to the present.
“Let’s not get distracted. After the lockdown, Dr. Zhou was admitted to the ER, her cousin deported back to China. And Teresa Guerro lived with Raymond Clark for another year before their house mysteriously burned down, mother and daughter disappearing.”
“Was Raymond Clark in the house when it burned?”
“Yes, but he didn’t die. He got out with just a few burns. Tragic, huh?”
I hoped he sustained injuries at least, but I didn’t ask about it.
“Teresa Guerro spends the next eight years bouncing from place to place, living hand to mouth, rarely using anything that could be traceable. Not a bank card, rarely did she file taxes, and she never lived in the same place as where she registered her vehicle. Any address she used was a shell address, re-routed to where she actually worked. I mean, if I didn’t know that shewasn’tan agent,I’d think she was a spy for all the precautions she took.”
One of the guys whimpered, as he bled from his eye. Norkus looked down at him like the leak from his skull was a character flaw.
In her head, it probably was.
“Is this all you have? How did you get these three?”
“Youreallyneed to stop interrupting me!” She rolled her eyesagain, and mumbled, “Ugh.Men.Am I right?”
I bit my tongue because so far, she was painting a picture. I just wish she’d paint a little fucking faster.
“This unstable existence lasted through your daughter’s high school years, then she graduated, joined the Army. Teresa probably felt a little safe. A little complacent. Then, about ten years ago, while your daughter was on her first deployment, Teresa was in Arizona. She checked herself in, limping to an ER in Tucson. Her clothes were ripped, her face bruised. She had the markings on her hands and wrists that were consistent with…”
“I get it.”
“She declined a rape kit but….”
“Igetit,”I said, more forcefully.
I didn’t need to hear more. It wasn’t Norkus’rightto tell me. If Teri wanted me to know, it was up to her to tell me.
