That had been the first time he’d ever touched her gently. His hand had skimmed her face and then moved to her hair. His eyes, usually so cold, held something for one brief moment she couldn’t understand. But she knew she would never, ever, tell Rafe that someone hit her, slapped her, or put his hands on her. She knew it was a death sentence.
Tuttle returned with the water and Catarina drank it down and then pulled her feet up on the chair beneath the table, sitting tailor fashion. She rocked gently, trying to soothe herself long enough to get through this.
“I’m sorry those things happened to you, Ms. Benoit.” Tuttle even sounded sorry. His eyes were gentle. “Are you certain you didn’t see the face of the man who killed April Harp?”
She swallowed down painful memories and shook her head. “I was forced to face her at all times.”
Rafe hadn’t tried to comfort her afterward. He’d taken her directly to her room and locked her in, bloody hands and all. She’d spent hours in her shower, sliding down the wall and crying while she scrubbed the palms of her hands raw. In the end she couldn’t tell if it was April’s blood or her own on her hands.
“You ran away again when you were seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid of what Rafe wanted from me. He looked at me differently. He watched me all the time. I didn’t know why and I was afraid. So I decided to try to get away again, but without anyone’s help.” That wasn’t the entire reason, but she wasn’t going to tell him the rest. She didn’t have proof. She never had proof, but she knew.
Rafe came into her room at night, his eyes on her. Watching her. Wholly focused on her. Waiting for something. She had no idea what it was, but she could tell he was becoming impatient.
She hadn’t left because of that. She’d left because of the women. The nights he came to her room, prowling around, his eyes glowing at her, she’d held her breath expectantly. He hadn’t laid a hand on her. But then, after he left, a car would pull up and a woman would get out. She didn’t know for certain, but she never saw the same woman twice, and she never saw them leave. Not even when she waited up all night.
“I didn’t get very far. Rafe has eyes everywhere. He found me within hours.” It was more than that, but she wasn’t going to reveal any secrets that would get her locked up. She knew Tuttle could try to lock her up for not reporting April’s murder, but she’d been a virtual prisoner and it wouldn’t stick. They both knew it. “He was angry with me.”
“What did he do? And why didn’t you go straight to the police?”
“I was his ward,” she reminded him. “He had every right to haul me back. He didn’t kidnap me. And he owned half the police department.” She knew that. She’d seen the fat envelopes that were handed out.
“What did he do?” Tuttle persisted, not denying that Rafe had owned cops. It was common knowledge.
She moistened her suddenly dry lips. For the first time she couldn’t look at him. There was nowhere to look so she stared down at her wrists. Already bruises were forming. She had very fair skin and she’d always marked easily.
“Let’s just say, I didn’t defy him again until I was very, very certain I could get away and he wouldn’t be able to track me.”
“You lived with him all those years, Ms. Benoit. You had to have seen him committing a crime. We need you to be frank with us.”
“No one sees Rafe committing crimes, Detective, least of all me. I can’t help you. I really can’t. If you don’t have any further questions, I’d like to leave now.”
“I have just a few more for you,” Tuttle said, giving her an exasperated look. “You do understand that this man is a crime lord. You have no reason to feel loyalty toward him. He murdered your mother. He either murdered April Harp and her family, or he ordered that hit. Rafe Cordeau belongs behind bars.”
“If all that’s true, Detective, why can’t you ever find any evidence? Or witnesses?”
“Witnesses disappear.”
“Exactly. That’s my point. I was never a part of Rafe’s business. I was a child growing up in his house.”
“There’s no record of you going to school.”
That shamed her and she suspected he’d said it to humiliate her. She detested that Rafe hadn’t sent her to school or brought in tutors. She was tempted to lie, but instead she lifted her chin. “No, I didn’t go to school. And strangely, no one came to ask why.”
“He didn’t have you homeschooled?”
She shook her head. “No, I was never homeschooled. I didn’t graduate. I didn’t go to college. In fact, Detective,” she added a little defiantly, “I could barely read for a very long time. What does that have to do with Rafe and his crimes?”
“I would say that would be considered an injustice against you,” Tuttle pointed out.
Catarina shrugged. Every second that went by was a second more Rafe had to find her. Sooner or later a police officer on the take would notify him.
“Ask your questions. I don’t have much time.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”