Always Watching

would. “How could you do those things to Lisa?”
    He stepped back, his hand out in defense. “I don’t know what lies she told you—”
    “I know you abused her.”
    I searched his eyes, hoping for a sign of shame—some remorse. But he’d recovered now, and his face was just angry.
    “Lisa’s a drug addict and a thief. She’d lie about anything.”
    “She wouldn’t lie about this. I know you did it—and that you drugged her last week. Your father would be ashamed of you.” Paul would have been devastated to find out his son was a child molester, one who’d abused his own sister.
    “My father would know that I didn’t do anything. ” His voice was almost a yell now. “My father loved me.”
    “I loved you too—and so did Lisa. You took advantage of that.”
    Garret was trying to get himself under control, taking some breaths, running his hand through his hair. “Nadine, you know me better than this.”
    “I thought I knew you.”
    “I would never touch her—she’s my sister. But she’s messed up on drugs, and she lies when she’s stoned. She was just saying this crap to hurt you.”
    For a moment, I faltered. Was he right? Then I remembered the look in her eyes. No, Lisa may have lied about many things, but that wasn’t one of them.
    Garret leaned back against the table, pushing a frame to the side as though clearing a spot for his hand, but something about the movement didn’t seem natural. Then I saw the photos on the table. One caught my eye. Anyone else would’ve just seen the shape of a woman’s back as she huddled on a mattress. But I knew my daughter, knew every curve and bump of her spine. It was Lisa. I stepped around Garret and pulled it out from under the others, studied it in shock. It looked like the same room I’d found her in. When had the photo been taken?
    Garret quickly said, “She signed the release.”
    Thoughts crashed into my mind. Did he take the photos after he’d drugged her? What else did he make her do? Is this what had pushed her to join the commune? Rage and helpless anger at how my family had broken apart swept through my body. I thrust out the photo, “What is this?”
    Garret said, “It’s a project I’m working on. Lisa needed money.” He sounded defensive but also nervous. His gaze kept flicking to the photo.
    “What else did you do to her, Garret?” My voice was steel, my body stiff.
    “Nothing. I told you, she wanted money. She was still doing drugs. She lied to you about that too. She’s sick, Nadine. She’s an addict.”
    He was lying again, blaming Lisa for everything, each word out of his mouth making me think of Aaron, of how they justify the evil things they do. And Garret was going to keep lying, to the police, to other little girls, to their mothers.
    Still holding Lisa’s photo in one hand, I spun around and ripped Garret’s photos off the studio wall, hurling them to the ground, frames smashing and glass shards flying everywhere.
    Garret was trying to grab my wrists as he yelled, “ What the hell are you doing? ” I yanked free. He lifted me from behind, dragging and pushing me out of the studio, while I clawed and kicked at him. I landed a good wallop across his mouth.
    He dropped me on the ground, stumbled backward, his hand coming to his lip and touching blood. He looked at it, like he was stunned that I’d actually hurt him. “I’m calling the police, you crazy bitch.”
    I stood up on shaky legs, still vibrating from adrenaline, brushing dirt and broken glass off my clothes. “No you’re not.”
    Our gazes locked. He looked away first.
    I left him standing outside his ruined studio, while I walked with my head high to my car, still carrying Lisa’s photo.

 
    CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
    The next morning, after a restless night’s sleep, I woke groggy and sore, all my muscles aching. Thankfully, I was off that day and didn’t have to go into the hospital. I poured a coffee to take to the back patio. I craved the light, the open air. The sun was landing on the top step, so I sat there, lifting my face to the warmth. I heard a small thud to my right, and my eyes jolted open as I spun in that direction, my body braced for an attack. But it was just the cat, having leaped off the railing. She watched me, her eyes blinking in the bright light.
    I rubbed my fingers together, called her closer. “Here, kitty, kitty.”
    She walked along the bottom of the railing, pausing once in a while to bump her head against the wood.