“You need a ride? I can have one of the guys take you.”
The images, the things she’d read were battling for space in her brain, making it difficult to think. She opened her mouth to accept his offer, but instead of words, a sob escaped. Tommy wrapped his arms around her and she leaned into him, weeping again for Lily. She cried for Abby and Dave and her parents, and for all the people Rick Hanson had casually destroyed.
“I’m right here, Evie. I’ve got you. You’ll be okay. I’m right here.”
Always so kind and decent, she thought, and she knew she was messing with Tommy’s life again. He’d made his choice all those years before, and she wasn’t it. And yet Eve had still come here; she’d still wanted to see him. She was like one of those runaway roller coasters they showed on the news. Nails and bolts flying off the framing, hurtling into disaster. She was his disaster but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The noise and bustle of the police station faded away. She didn’t know how long he held her. She wanted to stay—she would have but her family needed her, and he was not hers. Eve pulled away and grabbed her purse.
“Will you be okay?” Tommy asked.
“I hope so.” Eve’s hand was on the doorknob when he pulled her back into his arms, his heart racing as fast as hers.
“What are we going to do, Evie?” he asked.
Eve stared back at him. “I have no idea.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ABBY
Abby was analyzing the situation, trying to decide her plan of attack. She had been parked outside Missy Hanson’s home, watching the reporters who had gathered here, an even larger horde than the one camped outside Mom’s house. It was bad enough that Lily hated her and Wes had ruined everything. But now this…
Abby still couldn’t believe the shit she’d seen on the TV. Allegedly abducted? Allegedly abducted. A different side to this story. Missy is standing by him? What was wrong with this dumb bitch? Anyone who looked at those photos had to see Lily’s terrorized expression, her hopelessness. How could people possibly believe that Lily cared about Rick Hanson? But what if they did? What if Mr. Hanson used this to… No, Abby couldn’t let that happen. That’s why she was here. She had to speak to his wife; she had to make her understand.
His home wasn’t hard to find. Everyone at school knew where the Hansons lived. Located in the richest subdivision, the stately mansion was a gift from Missy Hanson’s parents. Her dowry, he’d joked during their Jane Austen module. Abby jumped out of the car and marched up the steps, making her way through the media gauntlet. She ignored their questions as the press surrounded her like rabid dogs, frenzied at the prospect of a new angle on this sensational story. Abby pounded on the door until Missy appeared, looking flustered.
“You can’t be here. You can’t. Go away or I’ll call the cops.”
“Let me in, or I swear to God, I’ll make a scene. Let’s see how they react when a pregnant woman collapses on your front porch.”
Missy’s patrician features appeared to be wilting under the pressure of recent events. She surveyed the mob, then slowly opened the door and Abby slipped inside. This was where her sister’s tormentor had lived. The decor consisted of muted earth tones, high-end furnishings, and expensive artwork. Missy’s parents, her mother in pearls and pastels, her father in a button-down, were flawless. Like stepping into a Brooks Brothers catalog, Abby thought. They were sitting at the dining table, but when he saw her, Missy’s father stood up.
“Miss, what’s going on?”
Missy’s mother stood too, wringing her hands nervously. “Edward, this isn’t right. She can’t be here.”
Missy plastered on a tight smile.
“Mother and Daddy, we’re just going to have a quick chat. I’ll be back in a moment.” Head held high, Missy led Abby into the study and closed the door behind them.
“Tell me what you want,” Missy said, getting straight to the point.
“Missy… God, what a stupid name. But listen, Missy, your stupidity offends me. It offends me and annoys me, and it ends today.”
Missy tossed her head, her eyes flashing. “I’m not going to be insulted in my own home. My father was right. You should go.”
Missy moved to leave the study. Abby grabbed Missy’s arm and held it tightly.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see my sister begging Lancaster’s favorite English teacher for her freedom. I see Lily’s desperation and loneliness and terror as he rapes and beats her over and over again. You can go on the news. You can go on every talk show with that fake-ass photo, but none of that changes what he did to her. None of that makes Mr. Hanson a nice guy. Mr. Hanson likes to torture little girls. He likes to destroy families and feast on that misery.”