Page 111 of Trip Through Your Wires

Jenica tries to lift her head, as her fingers twitch. The two have not yet found their connection; her mind is not in control of her body. “Fuck you,” she slurs.

“Do not talk to her,” I bite out. “Talk to me.”

“Now, now,” Richardson holds up his hand. “One at a time. Although,” he turns to Jenica again, a sick smile pulling his thin lips, “you may want to learn how to focus on two men at once, Ms. Miller. I hear that is a particular liking of Clegg’s.”

Jenica lifts her head and opens her eyes. I don’t know what they gave us, but she looks high as hell. Her eyes are glassy and her cheeks are ruddy. “You think… I’ll let…anyone touch me?” She lets out a weak laugh. “Clearly…don’t know…me.”

Even tranq’d like a horse, Jenica is a fighter, and I love it, I do. I would never silence her. But I wish she would have stayed asleep because men like Richardson get off on control and power, and sitting in that chair, as drugged up as she is, Jenica is a sitting duck.

“You are just like your mother,” Richardson says almost regretfully. “Beautiful but headstrong. He is going to love taming you.”

“Don’t…talk about…my mother,” she grits out. Her voice is stronger, and her hands are now gripping the end of the arms of the chair.

“You have always been like her,” he continues. “Feisty and spirited. Even as a girl. You were born with a face that could have given you the world other than the one you were born into. But here’s the thing, Ms. Miller, you were born into that world. Against your mother’s better judgment, she saw to it you did not get the world you could have had, so her choice is your cross to bear.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, angrily.

Richardson looks to me, tilting his head curiously. “Did Ms. Miller not tell you that we know one another? Beyond the whole murder thing that is.”

I look over at Jenica and her head lolls slightly. The muscles in her neck have not yet fully recovered. I wonder if she thinks this is a dream. I wish it were.

“Ms. Miller’s mother was the town beauty,” Richardson explains. “Dawn Raylene Miller, or Bell, as she was known in those days, had a face that could have been in the movies. Won every pageant she entered, except the one that could have changed her life. Tell me, Ms. Miller, didn’t you ever wonder why your father hates me so?”

Jenica takes a shallow breath and licks her lips. “You swindled the land that our store is on from him.”

“That is what you believe,” he nods. “But I did not swindle that land. Your father signed it over to me.”

“You’re lying,” she sits up, pushing against the ropes around her chest. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“He would if it meant protecting your mother.”

Jenica looks at me and when her eyes find mine, I see the recognition in her eyes. I don’t know her parents, but from what I do know about her family, it doesn’t sound as if Richardson is wrong. Her father would do anything for his daughter, so I know he would move Heaven and Earth for her mother.

“He hates you because you want what you can’t have.” She turns back to Richardson, clearing the gravel from her voice. “You don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at my Momma? Please,” she rolls her eyes. “It’s pathetic. Like a dog in heat. Looking for a bitch, as if you didn’t have two at home.”

Richardson’s eyes flash and I can’t help but grin. That’s my girl. Fight back, Sparky.

“Well,” Richardson says slowly, clearly trying to maintain his composure. “You are right about one thing, Ms. Miller. I never had a piece of ass that was quite as sweet as your mother’s.”

Jenica leans forward, and spits. “Fuck you!” she yells as it lands on his chin and drops down to his shirt.

Richardson runs a hand down his face, then reaches out and grabs her by the throat. “Get your fucking hands off her!” I shout as she thrashes in the chair, struggling to breathe.

“Your mother never told you that we knew one another, did she?” He leans in, gripping her neck harder. “No, of course not. Why would she? I am the big bad in her story.”

“Let go!” I scream. “She can’t breathe!”

Richardson bares his teeth, a piddle of spit dripping down the side, then closes his eyes and lets go. Jenica coughs, and gasps for air, dragging in one deep breath, followed by another.

“I’m going to kill you,” I promise, my heart pounding against my ribs as my fear for her ratchets up to a level I’ve never felt before. “When I get free, and I will, you better run you spineless piece of shit.”

He ignores me, his focus only on Jenica, and it’s then I see it. This is not about her or Royce. It is a vendetta. One not unlike that which created Elmhurst, only instead of being born out of greed, this one was born from something else entirely.

“I loved your mother,” he says stoically. “Offered her a future beyond her wildest dreams. But she turned it down because she had already given her heart to another. Imagine, if she had accepted my offer, you may have been my daughter. That boy you killed could have been your brother.”

“You may have loved my mother,” she laughs, ignoring his sick, twisted thought. “Everyone does. But she never loved you. She never even looked at you. You have never been anything more than another Elmhurst asshole that thinks they own the world.”

“Mmm,” he considers her response. “Sometimes it hurts to look at what we could have had. Perhaps it was not that your mother did not want to look at me, rather, could not. I imagine Mr. Chambers will come to understand this when he looks at your picture years from now.”

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