The weeksafter the attack went by in a blur of police statements, legal depositions, and recounting the story so many times, I almost stopped cringing at all the worst parts. My bruises turned yellow enough to cover with some quality makeup foundation, and I’d gone back to work after a few days.
When Artie made bail, even though I had a restraining order on him, Jude was glued so tightly to my side, he was almost my shadow. The only place I managed to go alone was the bathroom, and even then, he was always hovering close by.
Angel was assigned to prosecute the case after the arraignment. Normally, he would have recused himself from the case since we knew each other personally, but the district attorney’s office—like everything else in Kelly Lakes—was small, and Angel had the most experience with felony convictions involving assault. He’d later told Jude that he wouldn’t have let anyone take the case from him anyway because he wanted to ensure that the “creep” who’d hurt me received all the justice he deserved as quickly as possible.
Since Angel had been at the bar two of the times Artie had come at me, he didn’t need any help gathering a quick list of witnesses who were all too happy to give and sign statements.
And God bless Larry, the front door camera caught everything—Artie pushing me from behind, pulling me out of my car when I tried to drive away, and the rock he’d held over my head when my eyes were closed.
I couldn’t sleep for a couple of nights after Angel had told me that, and while I was angry at Jude at first for keeping it from me, I understood why he didn’t tell me.
Angel went after Artie for attempted murder, but his lawyer argued that he’d grabbed the rock without thinking in a moment of rage. All Angel had to do was play the video footage from two hours before the attack, which showed that Artie had parked up the block and finally stepped out of his car a half hour before, lingering by the bar behind a parked truck across the street until the door opened and he stalked toward me.
While Angel couldn’t completely prove that the rock was part of Artie’s premeditation, his actions showed an obvious plan to ambush and hurt me.
It was enough to shut down his defense and led Artie to plead guilty to attempted voluntary manslaughter, at least saving us all from a strenuous trial. I gave my victim’s statement to the probation officer to read at the sentencing in a couple of weeks. Jude said it was up to me if I wanted to go for closure and he’d go with me if I did, but I just wanted to move on.
Uncle Keith said he knew the judge assigned to his sentencing, and he was confident that Artie would get at least ten years, but might be up for parole after five. Uncle Keith also told us that he’d mentioned to Artie while he was in lockup that should he ever make parole, it would be wise not to come back to Kelly Lakes as even a police chief couldn’t control the court of public opinion.
In the short time Artie was out on bail, the people of Kelly Lakes made it clear that he wasn’t welcome anywhere. Salma’s wouldn’t let him order takeout, and Mary threatened to call the police when he attempted to have a cup of coffee in her shop.
A total shutout like that wouldn’t have happened in my old neighborhood. I’d had some amazing neighbors and friends in Brooklyn, but the city was too packed to know every single person like you could in a small town. The bad seeds could stay anonymous there, but small towns held no secrets or tolerance.
Kelly Lakes really did show up for their own, and to be accepted and protected by them was an unexpected silver lining in a truly awful experience.
My goal was to take what had happened to me as a lesson and go back to work. Brandon still apologized to me at the end of almost every shift, and as much as I told him it was okay because I was okay, I had a feeling it would be a while until I got through.
I still had an unusual number of cops stopping by on the regular, ordering soft drinks and lingering long enough right before closing time for me to know who’d sent them.
Even though Artie was gone, I was permanently more aware of my surroundings. I always held my car keys with my thumb on the panic button at night, but I didn’t feel the urge to keep looking over my shoulder. Country life felt safe for me again.
But my boyfriend was still spooked enough to treat me like I was made of glass, and while I tried to be understanding, it was getting on my damn nerves.
“Who’s closing with you tonight?” Jude asked, looking up at me as he slid his feet into his uniform shoes.
“Jackson is closing with me tonight. One of the new college kids I told you I hired. The wrestler. As I’ve told you a million times, no one closes alone anymore, and yet you ask every day.”
I spent more nights at Jude’s than Peyton’s these days, which made it annoying to have to figure out which clothes were where. I’d contacted a local real estate agent, but nothing she had shown me caught my eye. My prolonged displacement had taken me from squatter to nomad.
I’d meet Jude at home at the end of most of our workdays, and we’d make slow, careful love even though my bruises were long gone.
“I just asked. No need for the huff.”
“I didn’t huff. I sighed.” I groaned as I pulled on my jacket and slung my purse over my shoulder. “That was more like a huff.”
I strode out of his room, already feeling guilty for snapping at him when he was worried. But he couldn’t be worried all the time. It was taxing on both of us.
“Have a good day at work, kids.” George raised his coffee mug up at us from his recliner.
“Will do,” I said, smiling as I tapped his arm on the way to the front door.
“Call you later,” Jude told his father behind me as I made my way to my car.
“Listen. For whatever I did, I’m sorry,” Jude said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he came up to my car door.
“You didn’t do anything. But you need to relax, babe.” I draped my hand over the back of his neck and squeezed. “Stop sending random cops to the bar to keep an eye on me, and stop worrying so much. It’s all over.”
“To you, maybe it is,” he said, his jaw tight. “I can’t help it if I love you and I worry about you. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
