Audrey
Chapter 7 The Lost Weekend
Oh… crap.
Strange bed, strange man, and – moaned as she turned over – too much to drink the night before. Christ on a fucking stick. She was too old for this.
Dawn streaked through the closed curtains as she pulled her arm out from under his head. Paused to see if he would wake – he didn't.
Not the first time she'd woken up after a night she didn't remember. Not the first time with a man she didn't remember either.
She gathered clothes from the chair beside the bed and crept out of the room before putting them on again.
Maybe the first time she felt this awful about it, and not just from the alcohol struggling to crawl back up her throat. Bringing the rest of her insides with it. She rubbed tears away. It wasn't just the part about going home with whoever she didn't remember. She didn't remember whatever party it was, or… anything about how she got here.
Deal, Dana, she told herself. You've fucked up before, you've fucked up again. Deal with it.
Phone was in her pants – not her pants, because, jesus – ugly. Duke's name was in her phone…
And her finger hesitated over the name, because… jesus, how did she get here and not with him?
She remembered a violent disturbed teenager who could throw things around with his mind, who crawled out of a video game in character… and then here. Hunched over her phone in the hallway of a stranger's house and no clue what happened in between.
No. The date was wrong. It was weeks wrong. She closed the phone, reopened it. The date stayed the same. Suppressed a sob, opened it again. Still wrong.
The clothes came with a gun, gathered up together from the chair. Loaded, hip holster… So, that was something. She felt marginally better armed. Clothed and armed.
Figure it out, Dana. In the words of Douglas Adams: Don't Panic.
She'd hit her head in that fight with Shawn Wright. He'd hit her with something and… concussion could lead to memory loss. Even weeks of it. It could lead to bizarre and out of character behavioral changes too.
She stopped by the door, caught by her reflection in the mirror there. Behavioral changes like dying her hair blonde.
Like sleeping with the Chief of Police, as he wandered out of the bedroom, fully naked. She closed her eyes as he closed in behind her, brushed hair from the back of her neck, and kissed her gently where neck met shoulder.
"I thought we were past this," he murmured.
"I don't know what to tell you." So true.
"I'll drive," he said, padding back towards the bedroom. To get dressed, presumably. "I don't think you're sober yet."
*.*.*
Not sober yet, as she stumbled down the edge of the road. True, dat… Not an excuse, but perhaps an explanation for the panicked flight. Not willing to wait for him to dress and drive her, not able to stand still for another second, not fully in control of impulses she knew were self-destructive.
She hid behind a hedge when she heard the Bronco behind her. Walked out again once it passed. Panic was the only reason she could come up with for the bottle in her hand, grabbed off the kitchen table before she'd yanked open the door and ran.
It wasn't like he'd hurt her.
Crying now, wiped tears away and snot on her sleeves. Utterly lost, on the street and no frame of reference even from within. God, how? How did she get here?
Wasn't like he'd raped her.
Fell to her knees, scraped there and the heels of her hands.
Like he'd fucked her without her knowledge or consent.
Screamed at hands on her, on her back, jumped away from them – more of a screaming, kicking backwards crawl, reaching for the gun…
At a man, a stranger – a black man who held his hands up, kind concerned eyes – "Now, I don't think we're needing that," with a gentle swing of an accent. Let him take the pistol from her shaking hands. And the bottle, which she was more reluctant to release. He called out over her head, a woman's name, knelt down beside her – but didn't try to touch her again.
A woman came running – a white woman, American accent, and gathered Dana up. Let her walk on her own feet but kept an arm around her shoulders, walked with her – walked her, directed her – into the house beside the church.
Coffee was a godsend and did more to restore her than even the kindnesses of The Reverend Sandra and Mr. Habib Okundaye. She held the cup in both hands, head bowed over it. Shaking under control finally, but she accepted another cookie from the woman. Sandra Okundaye, pastor of the Good Shepherd Church. Restored blood sugar levels, the better to think with.
Her phone buzzed again, 'Nathan' clearly on the call display. Sandra turned it off, powered off, and handed it back to her.
"We can take you to the hospital, if you want."
Dana noticed that they were not offering to call the police for her. Haven was a small town, and maybe they'd seen the Bronco out prowling the neighborhood, maybe that was what their hushed conversation earlier had been about.
"He's one of them, you know."
"Sandra, not now."
"Who knows what he's done to her?"
"She's had a bad scare. That's all. We don't know anything more than that."
"He could have made her see things, or do things… you don't know what it's like."
Dana shook her head.
Her head was clearer with the coffee, but none of this made any sense. Okay, she'd panicked. What had happened the night before, the weeks before, she was better off getting from Nathan and Duke directly, herself – whatever it was. To face it herself. Her memory was damaged, missing, but… she had to know.
Dana stood up. "Thank you for your help." Put the coffee down. One of 'them'. One of the Troubled. She hadn't known that, but somehow she doubted that Nathan was actually a threat to her. Whatever had happened, it was probably the result of traumatic brain injury, hers. That conditions had changed for her – apparently overnight – did not put the police chief in the wrong.
She could not imagine the sort of brain damage that would lead her to – drunken – bed romps with Nathan, but then again, she knew enough stories of war vets who … Dana took a deep breath and dried her tears. Her tears dried themselves, the tap turned off as her brain turned on. It was always dangerous to diagnose yourself, and she wasn't a doctor, let alone a psychiatrist, but she was a war vet. She'd been in a fight. She'd watched Duke (Duke!) be grievously injured, and then magically recover.
Did she really see that or was that some fantastic delusion?
Time would tell, but obviously that had, together with the fight with Shawn Wright, had triggered some sort of… fugue state. Which led to the drunken night (s?) with Nathan. Post-traumatic stress. That explained a lot.
She could only hope that she could somehow make it up to Duke. That he could forgive her. She couldn't imagine… but there were lots of things in Haven she couldn't imagine. Dana thanked the couple again on the doorstep on the way out – no need to worry, she was just sorry for disturbing them and she would never ever drink that much again, so sorry –
Until a column of black smoke, barely visible in the lightening sky, caught her attention. And then theirs. "What is that?" Reverend Sandra asked.
Down by the water. "That's the Gull." She knew. There's no way she could have known, her local geographic knowledge spotty at best, but she knew. The Grey Gull, Duke's place, and her home. Burning.
She started running, then slid to a stop in the graveled driveway as the Okundaye's van pulled up beside her.
Ran again, once they were stopped by traffic, passed the crowd gathering on the road to the restaurant, passed the police cars, officers who gladly pointed her in while holding others back, elbowed her way through those already inside the police lines-
To find Duke wrestling Nathan back from flinging himself at the fully engulfed building…
"Duke!"
Fell to her knees again. "Duke. Nathan." They stopped. Turned to look at her.
Nathan got to her first, engulfed her in an embrace, smothering and pulling, desperate. "God, I thought – you didn't answer –"
Held her head in both hands, smoothed hair away from her face, and stilled. Wiped his hands over her eyes and looked again.
"Dana."
Dana's gaze found Duke, still picking himself up, watching them. Reached for him, escaping Nathan, "Duke, oh my god. Are you all right?"
Watched as tears filled up his eyes like water in a pitcher, spill over. He folded her against him, smelling of smoke and sweat, "I am now." Rocked her from side to side. "I am now."
They watched the restaurant burn all the way to the ground, the Haven Fire Department just about as well-equipped and competent as the Haven PD. They at least had the excuse of being volunteer. Duke held her in front of him, arms crossed just under her neck, across her shoulders like he was a cape she wore. He pushed off any attempt to sympathize or commiserate the loss of the building, his business, any memories there. He had insurance, he said. She was safe. Nothing else mattered. He'd even saved her bike, before she'd arrived, moving it far away from the flames.
She turned around within the circle of his arms, her forehead into his neck. Did he know where she'd woken up this morning? How could she break that to him?
She spotted Nathan, seated on one of the benches overlooking the water, looking like a punctured balloon. Duke followed her gaze. Kissed her cheek and forehead. "Stay here." Went to Nathan.
Dana had never been one for following orders – it had got her into all sorts of trouble in the Army. Now… there was no way.
Their hushed conversation evaporated as she stepped near. But she got no sense of a conspiracy, either including or excluding her. "We have to talk," Nathan said, directed at her, but somehow missing her eyes. Not as if they shared a secret, though. As if he could barely stand to look at her.
Duke had that look again, when she looked to him for a clue – everything was wrong, and he couldn't be happier. Not that he didn't feel or understand. He did, he just knew it wasn't the tragedy everyone else saw. His restaurant was a smoking ruin, the whole town saw that. He only saw her.
"I was with him last night." If he was going to hate her, better to get it over with now.
"Actually, you were with me for most of it. You only went home with him." Kissed her fingers even as he stood by Nathan's shoulder. "And though I hate to say it, we do have to talk."
*.*.*
"State your name and occupation for the record, please."
…
"For the record. Please."
"Audrey Parker. Unemployed."
"I'm sorry? Unemployed? I understood you were a member of the Haven Police Department."
"Currently unemployed."
"When did this change of status occur?"
"Recently."
"Ms. Parker, please understand this investigation is required by insurance statute with a claim of this magnitude. You are not – I'm not supposed to say this, but you are not under suspicion in any way. It's entirely routine."
"Believe me, I've heard - I've used that line myself."
… "In that case I will remind you that you are entitled to legal representation during questioning, but any delay or attempt –"
"Oh, come on. You can do better than that. You owe Duke two million dollars and it probably means your job if you don't find a way out of paying him."
"The insurance company I work for is liable for damages… This isn't personal, Officer Parker. Ms. Parker."
"It's personal for Duke."
"Can you tell me about the events the night before the fire that destroyed the Grey Gull Restaurant and Bar?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I had a lot to drink. I don't remember."
"As a police officer, I think you are aware that failure to answer is often regarded as an indication of guilt."
"Try again. I'm not a cop, and I'm telling you the truth. I don't remember, and I did have an awful lot to drink that night. I'm pretty sure everyone will confirm that."
"You are in a personal relationship with Duke Crocker, is that correct?"
…
"Please answer the question, for the record. It is required. Again I remind you, you are entitled to-"
"I don't know."
"I'm sorry?"
"I don't know if I'm in a personal relationship with Duke Crocker."
… "Are you in a personal relationship with Chief of Police Nathan Wuornos?"
"Define personal relationship."
"What would you say is your relationship to Chief of Police Nathan Wuornos?"
"We don't speak."
… "Ever?"
…
"And yet I have testimony to the effect that your relationship was … very close, if not inappropriate."
"People talk shite all the time."
"I'm sorry?"
"You may recall I said I was unemployed."
… "I see. … When did this change of status occur?"
"Recently."
"I meant, in your relationship?"
"Recently."
"The night of the fire?"
"Coincidentally, but yes."
"When you became involved with Duke Crocker."
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"When did you become involved with Duke Crocker?"
…
… "Others have testified that you were… very upset, leaving the Chief's house at a very early hour of that morning, hiding from him. That you were traumatized, in fact."
"The Reverend Sandra and Mr. Habib Okundaye."
… "Do you dispute their testimony?"
"Did you know that Habib is a drunk who beats on Sandra whenever he's drunk – which is often and deeply – and that he's decided to go back to Nigeria rather than fight an immigration investigation?"
"Your answer is almost word for word what Chief of Police Nathan-"
"Wuornos can suck my dick. I didn't talk to him."
"Are you referring to Mr. Habib Okundaye or to Chief of Police-"
"Habib. Nathan. Both. I left the bottle there, I ran when I saw the smoke – I didn't -"
… "I'm sorry, I don't understand."
… "Neither do I."
"Do you dispute the testimony of your state of mind the morning of the fire?"
"No. Just the cause of it."
"I have not stated any cause."
"No, I know. And you're not going to. You're going to let it sit and fester there and let all the implications and innuendo and bloody-minded gossip do all the talking for you."
"Why were you hiding from the Chief, crying and injured, that morning?"
"I thought he had raped me."
… "Rape?"
…
"Are you bringing charges against him in this matter?"
"No. I though he had. I changed my mind."
…
"Why, what were you thinking it was about?"
"I'm not at liberty to discuss…"
"That he had discovered Duke and myself having an affair, that he had confronted me about it… something like that?"
… "I am not at liberty to discuss an investigation –"
"You know what, it really doesn't make any difference if he had. Not to you. Because bottom line, Duke's restaurant – with that heat wave it was the only place in this town to cool off. It was booming. It was making money hand over fist. He had absolutely no reason to burn it down."
"Mr. Crocker is not under suspicion."
"Then why… No. You are out of your mind. Nathan had nothing to do with it."
"He wasn't jealous of you and Mr. Crocker?"
"No, he wasn't. He – you don't understand. There was nothing to be jealous about. And he… You only have to talk to him to know. He's the most honorable man you'll ever meet."
"And yet he was involved with you when you were his subordinate, abused his position of authority with another citizen in town, and you just testified that you were raped by him –"
"I did not say that. I said that I thought he had. I was mistaken."
"Mistaken?"
"Drunk. Confused. I lost my memory."
"So it could have happened – you just don't remember it."
"Don't you dare. Don't you dare put words in my mouth."
"Chief of Police Nathan Wuornos has testified that he spent the night with you, is that correct?"
"It is correct that he testified to such, or that he actually did?"
"The latter."
"He did."
"And yet you claim to have no memory of that night."
"I woke up with him. In his bed."
"When did you come to the 'mistaken' interpretation that he had raped you?"
…
"Shall I repeat the question?"
…
"You testified that you 'don't speak' to him anymore. Can you tell me why?"
"I want a lawyer now."
"Ms. Parker, I know he's the Chief of Police. But you don't have to go on protecting him. Or protecting yourself from him. Not alone. I can arrange for state or federal authorities to –"
"Are you deaf? I want my lawyer. Now."
"That won't be necessary. I believe your testimony is sufficient as it is."
*.*.*
They let her walk into the police station as if she belonged there. As if she was Audrey Parker. As if she was still Audrey Parker. Because, hell, it wasn't like you could tell just by looking. At least, more closely than the officers who ducked out of her way like meeting her gaze would turn them to stone or something.
Not that they knew – apparently – about the supernatural thing she supposedly was. Not supposedly. Was. They didn't know, both Nathan and Duke had assured her. Even of those who knew about Audrey Parker, even fewer of them knew about Dana Bellamy.
Dana Bellamy barely existed at all.
No, the uniformed officers of the Haven PD ducked out of the way of Audrey Parker who was apparently on a tear against their Chief, Nathan Wuornos.
Dana Bellamy was dead and gone and she… she was her part-time ghost in a body that…
Knocked, because all of a sudden she'd run out of steam and anger and outrage. And they hadn't left it on the best of terms the last time she'd spoken to Chief of Police Nathan Wuornos, when he'd tried his best to break it to her gently that she was not even real.
"Come."
He stood, when she came in. Prepared himself for attack of one sort or another, she saw, even a physical one. "Dana."
"That's me." She rubbed at her eyes, because that was a bad way to start. And not how she meant to carry on. "I'm sorry. I –" She sat in his chair facing his desk.
"Don't apologize. You have every right –" He sat back down again too. Wary as if facing a feral animal.
"I think I fucked things up with the insurance investigator."
"You didn't call the lawyer."
She steepled hands in front of her face. He'd given her a guy to call, given it to Duke to give to her and she'd thrown it back at both of them. Because she was mad at them, because her whole life was a lie and they had lied to her and… because she was petty and hurt and insane. Because she thought she was faster and smarter than everyone else and could wind people around her little finger.
"They're after you."
He blinked at her. Well, at least that was news. Maybe he could use it, maybe not.
"It's definitely going to be called arson – couldn't get around to what evidence they have." But they'd figured that. Nobody could come up with a reason for the restaurant fire otherwise. The kitchen had been cold for hours despite the customers lingering in the front. Well past legally mandated closing time. Grease fires did not just flare up out of nothing. That and the lack of paperwork on some of the gas fittings – not done by any licensed contractors and Duke's insurance was going to be denied.
But that they were after Nathan specifically as the culprit, that was news.
"They – He – " because they didn't know yet if this investigation was on the level or directed by some person or group that had another agenda, probably an anti-Troubled agenda, "He seems to think that you could have set the fire and then crawled back into bed with me, just to get revenge on Duke for…" she waved a vague hand in the air, "whatever. An affair with Audrey."
"There was no affair with Audrey."
"Whatever."
"There was no affair with Audrey." He looked at her directly, those blue on blue eyes solid and absolutely sure. Telling her. She looked away, didn't really like that he could read her insecurity. She didn't doubt that Duke cared for her – but did that make it more or less likely that he would, could, fuck her as Audrey? Fuck Audrey and call it even because she was her?
The way that the Chief certainly had.
Did not deny.
Good god, she was going to go insane with this. It wasn't clearly rape, but it wasn't clearly consensual either. She put her hands all the way over her face. As if he wouldn't see her that way. Because she could hardly look at him, couldn't even face herself. "How did she do it?"
"Hmmm?"
"Audrey. How did she deal with this?"
"She… had more time to adjust, to begin with. And she knew – had known for a while – that there were others before her."
So she'd just ignored Dana's reality entirely. Plunged in with a body – their body – as if she owned it. No, it wasn't Nathan she should be accusing of rape. It was Audrey.
Which was ridiculous on the face of it. "I think, except for how it turned out last time, getting very drunk right now sounds like a very good idea."
"Audrey said – that night – that she could see back in time." … So? "Do you know what she meant?"
"No." No she could not see back in time. If that's what he meant. She saw disappointment and… loneliness… come and go across his face, shoved away firmly into professional detachment.
"How are you Troubled?"
She knew it was an impolite question. She'd seen the tattoo earlier, naked on his arm like the rest of him, finally realized. Reverend Sandra and her fear and suspicion. The whole town split down the middle of Troubled and anti-Troubled.
He hesitated before answering – but he'd blown apart her world by telling her the truth. She didn't believe this was too much to ask. "I have no sense of touch. Nothing." She waited, because she could see the shoe hanging in the air all by itself. "Except you. Audrey or you."
She didn't know what made her do what she did next, only that she was nothing but nerve endings herself by this point, rational judgment out the window, operating on instinct only. She got up out of her chair and came around to his, looped her legs over his until she straddled him, leaned in and kissed him, thoroughly, open mouth and after a moment, tongue too.
Broke it off when a strangled "Chief" came from behind her, and a swiftly closed door.
"I am so fired." Nathan rubbed at his eyebrows – a gesture she wondered at, if he couldn't feel himself doing it.
"Did you feel that?" she asked.
"Yes."
"What did you feel?"
A beat. "Nothing."
"No, me neither." Just flesh pressing against flesh, no emotion, no rush, hardly a tingle. Which was a bit odd, because Chief of Police Nathan Wuornos was not a bad looking guy. Far better looking now than even when she'd known him before. Before Audrey's return. His skeletal frame had filled out, filled in, but it was more in the relaxed lines of his muscles and maybe the lack of screaming agony in his psychic aura. Even when she was here and Audrey was gone. "And if Audrey had just done that?" But then again, Audrey was not gone, not really. Just... out of touch.
A smile, unexpected, and it transformed him. She could see something of what, perhaps, Audrey had seen in him. "We wouldn't be sitting here talking about it."
She smoothed her hand over one side of his face, an experiment, and an honest gesture of affection. Smoothed his roughened eyebrows for him. His eyes shadowed, but came up again, full wattage. "Come down to the boat," she offered. They had more to talk about. "The best way out of this is probably to prove to everyone that we're all still friends. If it ever stops raining, we'll have a barbeque."
Lucky Audrey, indeed, Dana mused. It would be something to see, indeed, to see those eyes turned on you with full strength and meaning.
