Staying Dirty Read Online Free Page B

her feet as tenderly as I can with her struggling against me. I right a chair several feet away from Anthony and guide her into it. I pick another one up and set it in front of her, taking a seat.
    “I met and fell in love with the most beautiful girl in the world when I was fifteen years old.” I glance over at Anthony, warning him to keep quiet. “I was so in love . Olivia was—she was everything to me. I built my life around her. And maybe I counted on her too much. Maybe I loved her too deeply. Because the day she was murdered was the last day I was happy.” I pause, knowing this has changed recently. I’ve begun to feel bits of joy in Rocky’s presence. Little pieces of contentment and pleasure. Something I was sure I’d never know again. But that’s not the story I’m telling right now.
    “Four years ago, I was in my sophomore year of college. Livie was a freshman.” I smile weakly as I picture her smiling face. “I had just bought an engagement ring—I was going to ask her to marry me the following weekend when we went home for Christmas break. But I never got the chance.
    “Four men approached us after a movie. These men, they beat us, they took turns repeatedly raping Livie, and they stabbed us both over and over again.” My voice gives out on the last word. I’ve told this story several times, but it’s as hard today as the first time.
    Bethany gapes at me, not sure what to think. But I can see she’s an intelligent woman. I can see she knows where I’m heading with this. I can also see she doesn’t want to believe it.
    “Olivia died. I didn’t.” I shake my head, still unable to understand how God could possibly make that decision.
    I glance around the room, locating the newspaper I brought with me. I scoop it up and place it in Bethany’s lap. I point to the article about Morrison.
    “Do you recognize him?”
    “Stop,” Anthony snarls.
    I ignore him, repeating the question. “Do you recognize this man?”
    Bethany looks down, a crease forming between her eyebrows. “That’s Steve.” She looks to her husband, but he doesn’t notice. His head is in his hands again, his eyes locked on the floor, unable to face his wife.
    “I don’t understand,” she whispers.
    But I know she does.
    I point again. “This is Olivia. She was gorgeous, wasn’t she?” I keep going, not expecting a reply. “And that’s me.” I point one last time, showing her the part in the article where it explains the possible connection between my case and Steve Morrison. Her eyes move over the words, taking them in, absorbing them like the poison they are.
    “Steve was one of the men that night. He was one of the four, Bethany. Do you know Aaron Woods?”
    Her eyes pop up to meet mine. She nods, her head bouncing jerkily.
    “He was also one of the men from that night. What about Carter Bates? Do you know him?”
    She seems confused for a moment, as if trying to place him. She glances at Anthony. “I met him once when he showed up at Emma’s birthday party last year. I only remember because Greg got so angry.”
    I nod. “He was also one of the men that night.”
    Bethany begins to cry again. Silent tears roll down her cheeks, landing in splotches on her shirt.
    “Your husband and his friends raped my girlfriend right in front of me.”
    “No,” she utters. “He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t .”
    I sit back in the chair and direct my gaze on Anthony. He hasn’t even tried to deny it. But Bethany so desperately wants to believe in his innocence. He doesn’t deserve it.
    “He wore a red Cleveland Indians coat that night. I remember because when I tried to pull him away from my girlfriend, my fingers slipped off the satiny material.” I keep looking at him, waiting for him to take ownership of his actions.
    “Do you still have it?” I ask. “Do you still have the coat you wore while you raped my girlfriend?”
    He raises his head sluggishly and finally looks at his wife. She shakes her head,