Brian Freeman - Immoral

"You wouldn't be the first"

"I know that. And all I can say is, I know where I should be. Home. Not here with you. This is not me, not the man I am. But here I am anyway."

"You tell me something," Serena said, turning to him in the dark. "Maggie says your marriage is over. That it was over three years ago. Is that true?"

He was tired of pretending. "It's true."

"Don't you lie to me, Jonny," Serena insisted. "I'm nobody's fling, understand? You don't know how rare it is for me to talk to a man like this. Particularly someone I just met"

"I think I do. And I'm not lying."

"Tell me why. Why it's over."

He struggled to find the right words. "We've both got ghosts rattling around in our attic. Her first husband ran off. I couldn't fill the void."

"And what about you? What's your ghost's name?"

Stride smiled. "Cindy."

"Did she break your heart?"

Enough time had passed that Cindy was a dull ache in his soul, not the sharp wound she once was. He told Serena about losing her, and it was a faraway tragedy, as if it had happened to someone else. Serena listened silently, then reached over and laced her fingers with his.

For a few still moments, the truck was a bubble, a little universe of its own.

"You really want my story?" Serena asked.

"I do."

He could see her wrestling with her fear and mistrust.

"When I was fifteen in Phoenix, my mom got into drugs," she began quietly. "She became addicted. She ran through our money. We lost our house. My dad left us. Left me."

Her voice sounded flat, not like Serena at all, as if she had drained the emotions out of her words. He sensed that something profound was happening between them, that she had invited him into a world that was previously just for her.

"We moved in with her dealer. I guess you could say I was part of my mother's payment plan. He did whatever he wanted with me. My mother would watch, stoned out of her mind."

Stride felt his emotions stir. He was angry for her. Protective.

"I got pregnant," Serena continued. "I went to a clinic by myself and had an abortion. And then I never went home again. If I went home, I knew I'd kill them both. I mean that I spent time thinking about how I would kill them. But I wasn't going to give up my own life because of what they'd done to me. So I hooked up with a girlfriend, and we took the bus to Vegas. Sixteen years old, alone on the Strip. I took shit jobs in the casinos. I went to school at night. Became a cop."

"Most girls with that background would have wound up dead."

"I know. Like Rachel."

"You're amazing," he told her.

Serena shook her head. "I'm no angel. I can be a bitch. Most guys would tell you that I am. I've spent most of my life fending off men."

"Why aren't you fending me off?" he asked. "Or is that what you're trying to do?"

"Sure I am, Jonny. For your sake."

He didn't say anything. When a lamp went on in the nearest apartment, it cast a faint light on their faces. He found his eyes drawn to her pale lips. She was conscious of his desire, and she let her lips barely part Hesitating, uncertain, she leaned toward him, her long hair tumbling forward.

The light went off again, as quickly as it came. They were invisible as they kissed. Then Serena pulled away, and they were silent for the next hour, without any need to talk.

The strawberry Malibu pulled up around midnight.

They watched Kevin and Sally shrug backpacks onto their shoulders and tramp wearily up the steps of the apartment building. When they were inside, Stride touched Serena's shoulder, and they followed across the street.

Stride knocked on the third-floor apartment door, and Kevin answered immediately, his eyes bloodshot. Kevin assessed him suspiciously, then realized who he was. The recognition dawned, and Kevin, quick as lightning, knew why he was there.

"It's Rachel, isn't it?" he asked.

Stride nodded. "Sorry to surprise you like this, Kevin. And yes, it's about Rachel. We've found her body."

Kevin backed up from the door, his eyes growing moist with tears. He was maturing into a handsome man, with wavy blond hair and sunburned skin.

Stride introduced Serena as they entered the apartment, not mentioning that she was from Las Vegas. He took a quick look around at the garage-sale furniture and immediately realized that something was missing.

Their backpacks weren't there.

"Where's Sally?" he asked.

Kevin looked up blankly. "What? Oh, doing the laundry."

"The laundry!" Serena said. She turned and ran from the apartment, and Stride followed on her heels, leaving Kevin standing in the doorway. They found the stairs and took them two at a time down to the basement, where they emerged into a darkened corridor that hummed with machinery. Stride stopped and listened. He heard the familiar chug-chug of a washing machine across the hall.

They burst into the laundry room.

Sally sat on the end of a ratty sofa. She was reading a copy of People magazine. Her eyes widened with surprise and fright as the door swung open and banged into the wall.

Stride saw the two backpacks lying empty on the floor and two washing machines rinsing away any evidence. He cursed softly and switched them both off.

"What the hell is going on?" Sally demanded, her voice quavering.

Stride took a long look at Sally. She had lost weight, and it looked good on her. She wore a pink tank top, white short shorts, and one sandal that she dangled on her left foot. The other sandal was on the yellowing linoleum floor in front of the sofa.

"Do you remember me?" Stride asked.

Sally studied his face, and her eyes narrowed. She relaxed a little. "Yes, I do. And I still want to know what the hell is going on."

"Who gets home at midnight from a long drive and does laundry?" Serena asked.

"I do," Sally said. "I don't want smelly laundry in my apartment, thank you very much. Now what do you two want?"

"Rachel's dead," Stride told her bluntly.

He saw what he wanted to see: confusion flitting across Sally's face. That was the first telltale sign of the truth of what had happened when Rachel disappeared. Sally was surprised to hear that Rachel was dead. And that meant, when Rachel vanished, Sally knew she was still alive.

It also meant she hadn't killed her.

As the reality dawned on Sally, he saw something else, too. The girl could barely keep a smile from her lips, and a look of vast relief and satisfaction crept onto her face. "Where did you find her?"

"Las Vegas," Stride said. "This is Serena Dial from the police department in Nevada. Rachel was murdered there last weekend."

"Murdered?"

"That's right," Serena said. "How did you like the Grand Canyon?"

Sally nodded slowly, understanding. "Oh, I get it. You think we went to Vegas. You think we saw her."

"Did your Stride asked.

"Like I'd let Kevin get anywhere near Rachel," Sally snapped. She looked Serena up and down. "And I don't approve of gambling or any of the other things that go on in that city. We didn't go there."

"She's telling the truth," a male voice announced. Stride saw Kevin in the doorway. He had been listening outside. "I can't believe Rachel was alive all this time."

"It's a hell of a coincidence, Kevin," Stride told him. "You and Sally were just a few hours from Las Vegas when she was killed."

"We didn't go there," Sally repeated.

Kevin nodded. "That's right."

Stride and Serena exchanged quick looks, and they came to the same conclusion. These two were telling the truth.

"We're still going to need to check your clothes and your car," Stride said. "I'm sorry."

"All you'll find is dust and bugs," Sally said.

"I'm going to assume you two are telling the truth," Stride said. "But we're trying to find out if there's a connection between Rachel's murder and her original disappearance. It means it's more important than ever to know what really happened back then."