Randy White - Seduced

She was seeking an ally regarding her own attacker, I realized-an event that had taken place decades ago. “Every person has a right to defend herself,” I said. “Guilt doesn’t apply when you have no choice.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I hoped that’s what you wanted to hear.”

Lonnie Chatham’s arrogance vanished, replaced by a surprising sadness and vulnerability. “What I was hoping for was, someone who’d talk openly. We get so few chances, but it’s obviously none of my business. I guess I’m as wrong about you as you are about me.”

I reconsidered, while she reached to gather her purse and cigarettes. “Hold on a minute,” I said. “My attorney told me to never discuss it, but I’ll tell you this much: pulling that trigger was no accident.”

This earned her attention, and a wilted smile. “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy. I hate to press, but are you willing to tell me a little more?”

I said, “Most of what happened was in the papers. The guy we’re talking about had assaulted several women. I’d been hired to track down a girl who was still running from him. He caught me in an open area-my boat had broken down and… well, it’s a long story. When he came at me, I aimed for his thigh, hoping to knock him down. The pistol was new to me; I’ve spent a lot of time at the range since then. Anyway, I shot high and the round clipped his pelvis. Afterward, I could’ve killed him. Maybe I should’ve.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t a matter of having no choice, although I didn’t, I suppose. That’s not the way my mind processed it at the time. He came at me; I shucked a round, took aim, and fired. No… Truth is, that’s not the way it went. First, after I got the gun up and steady, I told him I would count to five if he didn’t back off.”

“You actually did that? Counted out loud?” She lit the cigarette and sat back, enjoying herself.

“He had to be warned,” I said. “Yes, I counted. Well… I started at five but skipped to the end because he said something so crude, I won’t repeat it. That’s when I shot him.”

“Skipped some numbers, you mean? Like what? Five, four- bang ? That’s so damn cool.”

“I think I made it to three. Then I had to make another decision when he get got up and hobbled off. He was yelling things; threats, mostly. I could’ve shot him in the back, but… I don’t know, it didn’t seem right. On hindsight, I’m glad. I might be in jail now.”

“Jesus, Hannah, that is so very, very ballsy. Five… four… three, and you did it.” Somewhere in the woman’s mind, the scene was playing out as if in a theater. “Hold on, tell me the truth-you aimed at his thigh? The chest area, center mass, that’s what I was taught. Are you sure you weren’t aiming at his crotch? I can see a girl like you doing that. First, make the bastard wait while you count down from five, then pow . You shoot his balls off.”

“I threatened him,” I said, not smiling, “but I didn’t do it to be cruel. I was as scared as I was mad. I just wanted him to go away.” Before she could ask more questions, I said, “Was it the same for you when you shot Raymond Caldwell?”

The question surprised her, but not as much as I’d hoped.

“Who told you that? Was it Martinez, or that little worm, Reggie? No matter, they weren’t there that night. They don’t know a damn thing about what really happened. But I am curious about how you came up with Raymond’s name.”

“I started to tell you,” I said. “My uncle opened an investigation agency for his wealthy clients-they had to be careful about hiring part-time help. He was a detective in Tampa before he went into fishing and was good enough at both to open a small office. I worked for him all through school, so it wasn’t hard to narrow down what might’ve happened. You, a college cheerleader; him, a football star who was about to stand trial for sexual assault, but the football star disappeared. The timing seemed about right. Can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.”

“Was a drug of some type involved?”

“In those days? Always.” Her smirk suggested I was naïve. “You know Harney was in the pot-hauling business. They brought in all sorts of stuff on those boats. Your mother was, too, from what I’ve heard.”

I refused to take the bait. “This is different. The typical date rape drugs didn’t come along until later, but I found articles on a dangerous one called Devil’s Breath. There are other names. It’s a powder; tasteless, and looks like cocaine. If that’s what happened, you-no woman, I mean-has a reason to feel guilt for what she might have done to get away.”

She gazed at me while her mind worked on how to respond. “You do your homework, I’ll give you that. Okay… okay. I’ll tell you what happened-not all of it, but some. First, we need to come to an understanding about our business matters.”

She opened a drawer and brought out an expensive-looking ledger, several notebooks, and some papers bound in a folder. “If I’d actually been blackmailing Harney, I did a piss-poor job of it. Judge for yourself. He left an estate worth close to a hundred million, but all I got was a chunk of his life insurance and the remainder of the citrus grove he didn’t give you and your mother. Oh, and Reggie-he’s so easy to forget.”

“A partnership between just us,” I said. “Is that what you’re proposing?”

“I’ve got to find some way to provide for my future. Any idea what a hundred acres of dead orange trees are worth in this part of Florida? Not jack shit, compared to what I have here”-the ranch, she meant-“which all goes to his kids. Me? I’m out in the cold. How old are you, Hannah? Ten, maybe fifteen years younger than me? I know you’re single, that you have no children, and you have to hustle to pay bills at the end of the month. Isn’t that right?”

She was closer to twenty years older, but I let her talk.

“Almost all women end up alone. That’s just the way life is. Sooner or later, we have to look out for ourselves, and I’m not going to end up some sad old woman in a roach-infested nursing home. Think about that while I show you what I have in mind.”

She continued talking while I glanced at a plat map, and a couple of other documents. It was difficult to separate the woman’s bitterness from her attorney’s advice, which was to fight her husband’s last will and testament in court. Equally difficult was gauging her sincerity when she said, “If I drag this through the legal system, it’ll take years, Hannah. Do you know what that means to you and your mother? You won’t see a cent. None of us will-except the attorneys. Do you really want that to happen?”

It was a mild threat, I assumed, to be exchanged for confidentiality regarding the missing football star.

I was wrong.

She opened a folder, saying, “That’s why I hired an expert to comb through every asset I can legally claim. My hope was, he’d come up a brilliant idea about how to turn what Harney left me into real money. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Either way, you and I are better off working together. Here, I’ll show you.” She flattened more papers on the desk and waited for me to scoot my chair closer.

“Mind putting out that cigarette?” I asked. “It’s hard to get the smell out of my hair.”

She complied, but not without saying, in her subtle, superior way, “I remember girls like you in high school-not many, but a few. I bet you played in the band, and dated nice boys. I always wondered what they did for fun.”

I was tired of her condescending manner. “The clarinet was more enjoyable than some instruments I can think of. Being a cheerleader, Lonnie, you’re probably an expert on the subject.”