Carolina Moon

belly, and began to rock. “It hurts. It hurts. You can’t even cry when he’s raping you. Just let it be over, but he keeps beating himself into you and you have to go away. You have to be somewhere else. You have to go away.”
    Exhausted, Tory laid her head on the side of the bed, closed her eyes. It was like being smothered, she thought dimly. Like being buried alive, so the blood rings in your ears like a thousand bells and the sweat that coats your body is cold. So viciously cold.
    She had to fight her way back into the air.
    Back into self.
    “When he was finished with her, he strangled her with his hands. She couldn’t fight anymore. She cried, or he did. I can’t tell. But he cut the rope from around her wrists. He took it with him. He didn’t want to leave any of himself behind, but he did. Like an ice rime on glass. I can’t stay here. Please get me out of here. Please get me away from here.”
    “It’s all right.” Cade bent down to gather her into his arms. Her skin was cold, slicked with sweat. “It’s all right, baby.”
    “I’m sick. I can’t breathe in here.” She lay her head on his shoulder and let herself drop away.
    He drove her home. She didn’t speak, didn’t move throughout the drive. She sat like a ghost, pale and silent, while the wind through the open windows of the truck blew over her face and hair.
    There was an anger in him that had lashed out at Carl D. when the chief said he would follow them back. But she’d said to let him come. That was the last thing she’d said. So his anger had no target or release and built steadily inside him. His silence was like a bruise, gathering dark and full of violence.
    He pulled up to the Marsh House, and she was out of the truck before he could come around to help her. “You don’t have to talk to him.” His voice was clipped, his eyes brutally cold.
    “Yes, I do. You can’t see what I see, then not do whatever you can.” She shifted her exhausted eyes toward the police cruiser. “He knew that, and used it. There’s no need for you to stay.”
    “Don’t be stupid,” he snapped, and turned to wait for Carl D. as she walked to the door.
    “You watch your step.” Cade faced the chief the minute he was out of his cruiser. “You be very, very careful with her, or I’ll use whatever comes to hand to make you pay for it.”
    “I expect you’re upset.”
    “Upset?” Cade took a fistful of Carl D.’s shirt. He felt he could break the man in half. One quick snap. “You put her through that. And so did I,” he said, dropping his hand in disgust. “And for what?”
    “I don’t know, not yet. Fact is, I’m a bit shaken by this. But I gotta use whatever comes to hand, too. And right now, that’s Tory. I’m feeling my way here, Cade.”
    There was regret in his voice, in his eyes, a veneer over duty. “I don’t want to hurt that girl. If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to be careful. As careful as I know how. And I’m going to remember, probably the rest of my life, the way she looked back there.”
    “So will I,” Cade said, and turned away.
    She was making tea, an herbal blend she hoped would soothe her stomach and stop her hands from trembling. She said nothing when the two men walked in, but got out a bottle of bourbon, set it on the counter, then sat.
    “I could use a shot of that. Ain’t supposed to on duty, but we got extenuating circumstances.”
    Cade got out two glasses, poured doubles.
    “He came in through the back,” Tory began. “You know that. You’ll already know a great deal that I can tell you.”
    “I appreciate it.” Carl D. scraped back a chair. “You just tell me, how it feels best to you, and take your time.”
    “She was alone in the apartment. She had a couple of glasses of wine. She felt good, excited, hopeful. She had music playing. She was in the kitchen when he came in. Fixing a salad for dinner, getting ready to feed the dog. He took her from behind, used the knife she’d set aside when she pulled out the dog food.”
    Tory’s voice was flat, dull, her face expressionless. She lifted her tea, sipped, set it down. “She didn’t see him. He kept behind her, kept the knife to her throat. He’d closed the blinds to the patio. I think he locked the door, but it doesn’t matter. She didn’t try to run, she was too afraid of the knife.”
    Absently, she lifted her hand to her throat, skimmed her fingers along her windpipe as if nursing a sting. “I don’t know