Maybe Baby (35 page)

“Yes,” I replied nervously.

“We understand that you suffered a head injury, so it’s possible that things could actually be clearer now than when you initially provided your statement to the detectives. Just relax, and relate exactly what you remember about the night of October 3
^rd
of this year to us, okay?”

I nodded.

“We're going to record this interview for the purpose of preserving your testimony for evidence. We must make sure that you understand that this is being taped and say so for the record.”

She turned on the recorder, stating today’s date, time, people present, case number, and parties to the case. She asked me to state my name for the record.

“Tylar Jamie Preston.”

“And Ms. Preston, you have agreed to allow this interview to be taped as future evidence as required, is that true?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Okay, in your own words tell us what you remember about the night of the attack in your cottage at Sinclair Stables.”

“I remember that it was a Wednesday night. I wanted to stay up and watch the season opener of a television show. I maybe watched the first few minutes of it and then dozed off. When I woke up later, the show was off and the late night news was on. I turned the television off, switched off the lights in the living room of the cottage, and went to bed.”

I paused momentarily collecting my thoughts from that horrible night. “I remember that the window in my bedroom was opened because it was still fairly warm out and I liked the fresh breeze coming in to my room.”

My mouth was getting dry which often happened when I was stressed or nervous. Detective Ryan got up and went to a small refrigerator in the conference room, retrieving bottle of water for me. I thanked him, took a sip, and continued.

“I recall that I thought I was dreaming. In my dream I thought it was a former…lover touching me on my thighs and my hips,” I said, blushing. “I was dreaming of him, or at least I thought that I was. I was kind of lucid. I felt my panties being pulled off, but again, I thought it was part of my dream. At some point, I realized that I wasn't dreaming; that someone was in my bed with me.” My hands were shaking as I lifted the bottle of water to my lips, taking another drink. “He was assaulting me with his fingers…down there.”

“Where, Ms. Preston?”

Oh God, she was going to make me spell it all out in technical terms. I'd have to push through this. “He was thrusting his fingers in and out of my vaginal area, scratching me.” I said pointedly. There it was, out. The worst part of it was out.

“Go on,” she prodded.

“I was still half asleep, still kind of thinking it was someone else.”

“Who, Ms. Preston? Who did you think it was in your bed that night?”

Oh no. This was humiliation I didn’t need. I hadn’t gone into all of that in my statement at the hospital. Why had I chosen to do so now?

“Like I said,” I continued, “I was half-asleep and when I realized it wasn’t a dream, I considered that my boyfriend, who I'd recently broken up with, was there with me; that it was him touching me, Trey Sinclair.”

“Did your boyfriend or ex-boyfriend make it a habit of coming into your cottage while you were sleeping and crawling into your bed?”

“No, not at all,” I answered tersely, “I suppose in my half-dream state, it was simply wishful thinking. Then I heard the voice. He, Charlie, asked me if I liked it. He called me a bitch, I think, and then he called me ‘Sissy.’”

“Does the name ‘Sissy’ hold any significance to you, Ms. Preston?”

Why did I think she was asking me questions for which she already knew the answers?

“Yes. I'd received some threatening notes from someone calling me that name.”

“Anything other than that?”

“About eight years ago, one of my mom’s boyfriends had called me by that name. He came into my room when I was sleeping and took my pajama bottoms off and started touching and putting his finger inside me. I screamed and my mother came into my room and made him leave.”

“Why had he called you ‘Sissy’ back then?”

Once again I found myself explaining the events which had occurred when I'd come home unexpectedly on one of my mom’s date nights. There it was, just as predicted. I was sick of this already. I skipped to the condensed version.

“Yes, my mother was a prostitute, you see. On Saturday nights, she had a ‘date night’ where one of her tricks would come over for dinner and would spend the whole night. On this particular night, I had the misfortune of coming home unexpectedly,” I took a swig of water before I continued. “Apparently her date that night was Charlie Roberts. I didn’t really get a good look at the man. Mom tried to pass me off as her little sister. Then what I’ve already told you happened after that. That's the story about the name ‘Sissy.’”

I took another long drink of water trying to wash the nasty taste of the truth about my mom out of my mouth.

“So, when you came to work at the Sinclair Stables, you didn’t know that Charlie Roberts was, in fact, the same man who'd molested you eight years ago?”

“That’s correct. That had happened in Radcliff, Kentucky. I'd no reason to think Charlie was the same guy from Radcliff now in Bristol, Virginia working at the same place that I was.”

“Do you find that fact more than just coincidental, Ms. Preston?”

“I guess; I haven’t thought of it as anything other than just bad luck up to this point.”

“Please continue about the night you were assaulted, Ms. Preston.”

“He just kept touching me, and calling me ‘Sissy.’ I was thrashing around in my bed, trying to get away from him, trying to push him off of the bed. I remember him saying—”

I stopped myself right there. This was something that I'd just remembered Charlie saying to me the night I was attacked. Oh God, I didn’t want this to go on the record. It was too late.

“What did he say, Ms. Preston?”

I sighed, not wanting to continue, but knowing she would badger me for withholding information if I didn’t. “He said something like ‘Sissy likes it rough.’ He asked me if I wanted him to fuck me like the boss man did in the stable that night.”

“Who was he referring to, Ms. Preston.”

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.

“Trey Sinclair. We'd made love once in the stables back in mid-August.”

“How would Charlie Roberts have known that?” she asked.

“He would have had to have been watching us,” I replied, blushing.

“Not necessarily,” she replied. “Is it possible that Mr. Sinclair boasted about having sex with you in the stables to other workers there? Perhaps bragging to the other guys, that sort of thing?”

“No,” I responded, my anger showing. “It’s not possible.”

“Why are you so certain about that, Ms. Preston?” She pressed, quirking an eyebrow.

“Because Trey has no recollection of that night,” I answered softly. I finished relaying the rest of what I remembered about the assault that night. I told her that I'd screamed for help until his fist had knocked me unconscious. I'd awakened two days later in the hospital.

Beth Denniston rose and walked over to a box that Detective Ryan had brought into the conference room with him.

“Ms. Preston, we have some evidence here in this box that we want you to identify on the record in this investigation, please.” She pulled out the plum silk camisole top that had been cut, along with the ripped plum silk shorts.

“Do you recognize these?”

“Yes, those are the silk pajamas I had on that night in Radcliff, Kentucky when Charlie Roberts came into my bedroom when I was thirteen and sexually assaulted me.”

“Do you know how these items got torn and cut?”

“The bottoms were ripped off of me. I've no idea how the top got cut.”

“Do you know how Charlie would have been in possession of these items?”

“I've no idea. The only possibility is that my mother may have given them to him.”

“What would the purpose be in her doing that?”

“You'd have to ask her,” I answered.

She then pulled out the piece of paper that had typing on it reading, “I believe these belong to you, Sissy.”

“Do you recognize this piece of paper?” she asked.

“Yes, that's the note that was pinned to the camisole top that was left on the porch of my cottage.”

“And when did this happen, Ms. Preston?”

“I don’t recall the exact date, it was on a Sunday; I do remember that. Trey and I'd gone to eat at Morelli’s outside of Bristol that afternoon. He walked me back to my cottage, and the clothes and the note were in a shopping bag, hanging on the knob of my front door. I thought Trey had wanted to surprise me with a gift…” my voice trailed off.

“Mr. Sinclair was with you when you found these on your porch?”

“Yes. He'd just had the locks changed. I think it was the end of June sometime.”

Ms. Denniston held up the two blue velvet jewelry boxes. “Can you identify these Ms. Preston?”

“Yes. These are the two blue velvet jewelry cases that were left in my cottage. I recognize the earrings and necklace as those previously given to me by my mother the night of my senior prom. I actually hadn’t seen them since the night of my prom. I thought I'd lost them at one of the after-prom parties. They showed up here in my cottage underneath my bed covers a day or two prior to the PJs being left on my door.”

“Was there any note left with these?” she asked.

“No just the boxes. I remember that I'd walked back to my cottage from the racetrack over at the Belle. It was dark, and my horse was…scratched from the last race. I noticed lights on in my cottage that had not been on when I left for the track earlier. I was looking through my own windows when Trey came up on me. He went in the cottage to check it out before I did.”

“So Mr. Sinclair was also there when you discovered these boxes under your bed covers?”

I didn’t like the tone her questioning was taking regarding Trey.

“Yes he was. We were discussing the matter of my horse being scratched from the race that evening. We weren’t entirely in agreement on it.”

Ms. Denniston pulled out another folded piece of paper from her box of goodies. It was inserted into a plastic sleeve like the other one. “Do you recognize this note Ms. Preston?” It was the one addressed to ‘Sissy’ stating the sender missed the sweet taste of her cunt and promising to find her.

“Yes. It was shoved underneath the door of my cottage.”

“Do you remember when that was?”

“Not the specific date, no. It was after the PJs were left.”

“Was Mr. Sinclair at the cottage when you found it?”

“No, actually Trey was in Atlanta where his law firm is located. My friend Gina was with me at the cottage. I wasn’t staying at the cottage; Gina and I were staying at the Sinclair manor. I had to go and get more clothes and stuff, so Gina went with me. She saw it on the floor inside the door and gave it to me.”

“Ms. Preston, is there any particular reason that you didn’t mention these incidents in your statement previously given to the detectives at the hospital?”

“What I've shared with you here this morning are things from my past that are humiliating, and best forgotten. It's difficult coming to terms with my past, and in particular, my mother and what she's done. I know that there is a link between my mom and Charlie Roberts; to what extent, I've no way of knowing. Trey believes that Charlie may be a co-conspirator in that as well. So if I’m not particularly eager to discover whether my mom actually wanted me dead, and paid Charlie to do the job, it isn’t because I’m trying to obstruct justice in any way, it’s only because I’m not sure I could handle that much hate in one lifetime from my mother.”

Ms. Denniston looked at me and smiled. It was the first time that I saw compassion cross her face. I was a key witness to the facts. She had to press me just as a defense attorney would if this went to trial.

“I understand that you’re going to be a mother,” she said.

“Yes, in early May.”

“I wish you the best, Ms. Preston. I've a feeling that your child will be blessed with a mother who will give him or her the love and nurturing every child deserves, but that you were denied.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“We will be in contact with you should we have any further questions as the investigation continues. Thank you for making the trip here.”

That was it, I was done. I texted Trey as instructed. A limo was dispatched for me and I arrived at the airport well in advance of my flight. I was able to get my flight changed to an earlier departure. Once on the plane, I felt better than I had all day. I was going home.

Chapter 35

My second trimester had started and I was feeling great. The nausea and fatigue were gone and I'd gained five pounds. I was ecstatic and I could hardly wait to get my baby bump.

I had registered with a temp agency the week after I arrived back in Radcliff and was delighted to hear from them when I returned from Virginia. I was being offered a 20-week assignment filling in at a law firm that would take me up to just a few weeks before my due date. I happily accepted. The job was right in Radcliff.

I'd been there for three weeks and was coming back from lunch with a stack of files in my arms when Jill the receptionist at the front desk caught my attention, waving me over to her desk. She looked semi-frantic and I was wondering what could have possibly changed her usual laid back demeanor.

“Tylar,” she said in a loud whisper, “there’s an attorney in your office waiting to see you.”

“An attorney in my office?”

“Yes,” she stammered, “he’s like really, really gorgeous.”

Oh God.

“His name is Mr. Sinclair. Do you know him?”

“Yes I do,” I answered, puzzled as to why Trey would show up here unannounced like this. “I used to work for him.”

“He seems a bit—distraught,” Jill said, reluctantly.

“Distraught?”

She nodded.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said very nonchalantly although my hands trembled. I hurried down the hall to my office, clutching the thick file folders. As I opened the door with one hand, balancing the stack of folders in the other, I was keenly aware that Trey stood next to my desk. Holding my files with both hands, I kicked my door shut with my foot. He was right there beside me.