“That she’s a child of rape?” Ruth asked carefully.
The quick end to the call was all the answer Ruth needed. Lily had been pregnant when she’d escaped.
God bless her.
*
Although Ruth usually used Fridays to catch up on case notes and paperwork, today she dropped Penny with the grandparents for dinner and drove into town. It was the beginning of the holiday weekend, and she had agreed to meet Ethan at the Lazy L Café to discuss Penny’s progress and the possibility of continuing lessons. With Kit as his sidekick, he had taken over the lessons for the week, much to the delight of Penny and Jessica, who had enjoyed their time with the two expert riders with very different personalities.
Although Ruth was meeting Ethan at the Lazy L Café, she drove past the restaurant and stayed on Main Street for five more blocks, pulling up in front of the dingy storefront that housed the Prairie Winds. She felt that Woodcock’s inappropriate behavior the other day had to be addressed. A few phone calls had confirmed that this was no anomaly, and she had to call him on it.
She pushed her way in the door, and Jimmy Woodcock peered out from around his computer monitor as the old bells jingled.
“Ruth! You came back.”
“Only to drop off the check for the ad,” she said, marching into the office and holding up a printed page with a check clipped on to it. “Remember the ad? You were going to get me a flier or a form or something. But you got distracted.”
“You pay full price?”
“You never gave me a discount,” she reminded him coolly.
He waved that off like it was a bothersome fly. “Have you heard the latest on Courtney Pearson? The forensic investigators don’t think the killer took her eyes out. Get this: they think they were plucked out by buzzards.”
“I’m not here to get your latest scoop. I wanted to pay for my ad and tell you that I know about your porn problem. Your screen saver. Your collection of magazines. You spending hours on end alone in this office with nothing to show for it.”
Woodcock squinted, a half smile on his face. “You’re crazy.”
“I talked to Audrey Cartwright, your former secretary. Remember Audrey? The gal who was with the paper from the beginning when your father founded it? She told me she had to get out. She couldn’t tolerate your behavior.”
“She’s an old bag.”
“And your wife isn’t too happy about it, either.”
“Desiree? You called my wife?”
“I ran into her at Molly’s when I was getting coffee.” The truth was that Cordelia had tipped her off that Desiree came in every morning with the kids, but Jimmy didn’t have to know that. “For the sake of the children, we had a discreet conversation, but she confided that you’ve promised to address your problem, many times, to no avail.”
Woodcock’s face hardened into a sour scowl, and he tugged at his beard. “Have you heard of privacy, Ruthie?” He said her childhood name as if it were a taunt. “I would think any worthwhile therapist would know a thing or two about giving people their space.”
“I know socially unacceptable behavior when I see it, Jimmy, and I will not be a part of your dysfunction. Do yourself and your family a favor and find a twelve-step recovery program in Jackson. At the very least, get yourself a therapist to take you through some Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Denial, Jimmy. Best-case scenario, you’ll alienate your family and friends and community people like me. Worst case? A large percentage of rapists report looking at porn. Do you want to go there, Jimmy?” She stood her ground, hands on her hips as her eyes met his cold stare. “Or maybe you’ve already been there?”
His expression darkened. “I think you’d better leave.”
“I’m going.”
*
By the time she joined Ethan at a table in the window of the café, the tremble that had riddled her body had quieted to a shiver. The waning sunlight did nothing to penetrate the deep chill she felt at facing off with Jimmy Woodcock, but she was glad she’d done it.
Someone had to stand up to him.
As a mental health professional, a mother, and just a basic citizen, Ruth wasn’t going to tolerate offensive behavior that objectified and devalued women.
“Hey, there.” Ethan smiled up at her as she slid into the booth across from him, and the vestiges of the boy she’d crushed on years ago softened her brusque mood.
She had planned to stick to water, but the frosty mug in front of him sold her on beer. She pushed her sunglasses back on her head as the waitress headed off to get her drink. “What a day.” It felt good to have a peer to talk with. “I just read Jimmy Woodcock the riot act.”
He squinted. “The newspaper editor?”
“Editor and porn addict,” she said.
“What?” He winced. “Sorry. It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just the way you blurted it out, as if it’s a club or a job title.”
“I should probably be more sympathetic and supportive, but I am fed up with the men in this town. Present company excluded. The Prairie Creek I grew up in seemed to be a quaint town. Yes, there were a few quirky personalities. Some eccentrics and local color. But now that I see this place with adult eyes, I’ve encountered a handful of men who are significant threats.”
“Here in Prairie Creek? We live in the safest town this side of the Wind River Mountains.”
“It’s pretty much the only town this side of the mountains, so that’s not saying much. I’m not na?ve enough to believe that anyplace is truly safe, but when I brought my daughter here, I wasn’t expecting to find death and kidnapping. Courtney Pearson’s body recovered after being held captive for fifteen years? And Addie’s disappearance . . . these things are a mother’s worst nightmare.”
As she spoke, her eyes lit on two cowboys walking down the street, both wearing black Stetsons and sunglasses. Recognizing one of them as Rafe Dillinger, she slid her sunglasses over her eyes and held the menu up to cover the bottom of her face. “Speak of the devil. There’s Rafe Dillinger, looking like he’s on his way to The Dog.”
“Probably because he is. Friday night out.” Ethan glanced toward the window.
After the two men passed, Ruth stared after the second cowboy, who was the same height and build as Rafe. “Who’s that with him?”
“Looks like Scott Massey. He’s a trick rider. He was in the rodeo with me, but he works on the Kincaid ranch now, or he did. You’ll probably see him performing at the rodeo exhibition on the Fourth.”
“Are you going to be in the parade?” she asked, thinking of the times she’d seen him riding down Main Street atop a majestic horse.
“Not this year. I’ll be behind the scenes, horse wrangling for the Dillingers. Someone’s got to take care of the animals.”
“That was a bad scene on Monday.” Ruth thought back on it, Rafe falling down drunk and still taunting her. “Does Rafe blame me?”