Simply Lies

Chapter 75

It took about two hours, but Francine finally found what she thought was the place to which she’d been taken.

A farm was within earshot and she could hear the tractor, approximately the same sound she had heard while being held prisoner.

The dilapidated house was down a curvy, dirt road. It was clearly abandoned, which made sense. Rochelle had always been stingy, even with the proceeds from a diamond haul in the bank. She wouldn’t be shelling out money to rent a safe house to keep Mommy hostage when she could do that for free.

Francine knelt next to a bank of trees and surveyed the place. She didn’t see a car, but it probably was parked in back, just in case anyone came down this far.

She wondered if there was electricity even turned on in the place. If not, there was no way they had an oxygenator in there. They were probably providing her mother’s oxygen needs purely from tanks. She wondered how they had managed that. That cost money, and the place you got it from delivered the tanks. She doubted they would haul oxygen canisters to a place like this.

Had they ripped off the supply from the assisted living center they had taken her from? Rochelle had intimated something like that when she had spoken to a trussed-up Clarisse. That was more in Rochelle’s line. Why pay if you could steal?

But that’s sort of my mantra, too.

She stiffened when he came out of the house.

And she felt her heart grow both soft and sad.

Her tall, handsome brother had not aged well. He looked too thin and bowed, and... just worn out.

Shit. What the hell have you two been doing? But then look at me. I know what I’ve been doing. Leading a life I had to manufacture to forget the other one.

Her brother had always been sensitive and aloof. Her father had called him stupid, inept, useless. And those were the kinder terms the monster had used. That just ground you down, year after year. And now all these years later, here, perhaps, was the result.

He smoked a cigarette, idly flicking the ash away. His hair was thinning and he’d grown a mustache that looked wispy and far too small for his broad face. His clothes were cheap and hung baggy on him. She remembered them together as kids, before their father had revealed his abominable ways. They had loved each other, had fun together, supported each other, eventually forming a little two-person army to keep all the shit at bay.

Too bad the shit won.

She had hoped that he would have found happiness and good health and something altogether better than had been available to him as a member of the Langhorne family.

He didn’t seem to have achieved any of that.

Part of her instinctively wanted to call out to him.

But her brother clearly was not the same person he had been all those years ago.

His life could have turned out so differently, but for Harry Langhorne.

I wouldn’t blame you, Dougie, if you’d killed him.

Now if I could only get you away from Rochelle.

There was a noise from inside the house. Then the door opened and Rochelle joined him. She took a puff off his offered smoke and gazed around. She had on jeans and a hoodie, and was barefoot. Her substantial hip butted up next to Doug’s slim one. She smiled and kissed him.

And he smiled back, and in that smile Francine had to admit that her brother looked like a little boy again. The one she remembered. He looked... happy.

She put a hand in her pocket and felt for the gun there. This could turn out fabulously. Or this could be the worst day of her life, and that would be saying something. She drew a deep breath and transformed herself into what she knew she could be when the need arose: commanding, confident, and courageous. Like she had been with Nathan Trask, conning him and his people just enough to allow her to survive. To allow her to win.

She stepped out into the open. “Lovely spring day, isn’t it? And how is Mommy doing? Spry and spirited?”

Rochelle took a step forward, putting herself between brother and sister.

“Oh, like I would ever hurt my brother? But you shouldn’t give me such a tempting target, Rochelle.”

Francine looked past Rochelle, and her tough facade faded for a moment. “I would never hurt you, Dougie. Never. For so long we were all each other had.”

Francine wasn’t sure if he reacted to this, though he did drop and grind out his smoke.

He nodded at her, she supposed, in hello. Her brother had never been loquacious.

“How did you find us?” asked Rochelle. “I turned off your phone.”

Francine walked closer. “Never reveal sources and methods. And is my swagger still there?”

Rochelle pointed to the gun. “What’s that for?”

“You brought a gun last time. Only fair that I have one. So, how is Mommy?”

“The same as when you were here before,” said Rochelle. “And you better hurry up and find the money because I can’t deal with the woman much longer.”

“Is there electricity in there? Otherwise, how are you managing the oxygen?”

“We rigged it off a feeder line. At least Dougie did. He’s real good with stuff like that. And we got an oxygenator.”

“Where?”

Rochelle’s mouth curved to a grin. “Sources and methods.”

Francine glanced at her brother. “Did Mom recognize you?”

He shook his head and looked off.

“I’m sorry.”

He glanced back at her. “Why?” His voice was husky and dull and unfamiliar.

She drew closer, pointing the gun to the dirt. “Because she’s our mother. In spite of all the shit.”

“Forgive and forget?” said Rochelle in a sneering way.

“Neither. But we can move forward.”

“Maybe you can. That shit messed us up but good,” said Rochelle. “Just treading water now. Probably forever.”

“And you think I’m the picture of perfect mental health?” said Francine.

“I don’t know. Are you trying to be?”

“All I try and do is get out of bed every day.”

“Us too,” said Doug. He added quietly, again looking off, “Us too, really.”

“And Bruce?” asked Francine.

Her brother glanced nervously at Rochelle. “I did it,” he said.

“Why?”

Doug once more glanced at Rochelle and shrugged. His gaze fixed on his shoes.

“You didn’t know Bruce like I did,” said Rochelle.

“But you two were dating,” retorted Francine.

“No we weren’t. He had some crazy-ass fantasy about me. Told me I was Wonder Woman to his Superman. He creeped me out. I told him to leave me alone. But unlike Doug, Bruce had no problem playing in the reindeer games.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He paid my father to have sex with me. And it was not voluntary. My old man had to hold me down.”

“He never tried that with me.”

“He wanted to, trust me,” said Rochelle, who was now looking off like Doug had been.

“Then why didn’t he?”

“Because he had me instead. I figured if he did the shit to me, he’d leave you alone. In fact, I made him promise to leave you alone.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Twelfth Night?”

“What?”

“You were a much better actress than I was. I could never get Viola’s cadence right. Or really get into the spirit of her character. I just memorized the lines and regurgitated them when I was supposed to.”

“I heard the performance was well received.”

“It should have been you onstage, not me.” Rochelle paused. “That was one reason why I let Bruce do what he did to me.”

“And the other reason?”

Rochelle looked at Doug. “You’re his sister. That means you’re precious to me. And just in case you’re wondering, as soon as Bruce saw us when he opened the door at his house he went after Dougie with a machete. Dougie didn’t have a choice. It was him or Bruce.”

“Why did you even try to find him?” asked Francine.

“He had something of mine that I wanted back.”

“What?”

In answer Rochelle lifted a small gold necklace off her chest. “Your brother gave it to me. Worked his ass off doing construction when we were in New Mexico. Bruce took it one time when I was forced to have sex with him. Next thing I knew his father croaked, and he and his mom vanished.”

“How did you find him?”

“Remember, I worked at the marshal’s office cleaning shit, too. I found what I needed to find. Unlike us, Bruce and his mom kept in touch with the WITSEC folks. But old Bruce thought we were there for another reason, I guess. Like revenge for raping me. Anyway, he tried to cut Dougie’s head off before Dougie showed him who was the better man.”

“I saw the aftermath. Didn’t look to be much of a struggle.”

“We cleaned it up. And put Bruce in the bed. We knew the cops would probably figure shit out, and they’d never believe it was self-defense, even though it was. Dougie was a lot bigger than Bruce, but I guess Bruce still thought he was Superman.”

Francine looked at her brother, who was now rummaging in his pocket. He pulled out another smoke and lit up.

She turned back to Rochelle. “You cut my neck.”

“I never said I was completely good,” noted Rochelle. “Or entirely sane.”

“You went to visit Harry. How and why?”

“We were looking for him all that time. Finally found him. Dougie went in to negotiate with him. Basically, he gives us a share of the money if we don’t expose him. Then Harry tells Dougie that he’s dying and basically to fuck off.”

Francine said, “I talked to the housekeeper. She said Dougie told her to get another job and it was because he knew Harry was dying?”

Doug nodded. “Yes.”

Francine slid the gun into her jacket pocket. “I’ll get the money. Tell Mommy I said hello, and that I’ll be back for her. And that we’ll all live happily ever after.” She started to walk away and then turned back. “It was good to see you, Dougie.”

Her brother nodded, and didn’t glance away this time. He watched her leave, even as his fingers curled around Rochelle’s in a firm, unyielding grip.