Page 60 of Finding Our Reality

When she gets to the last image, she gasps. “Oh! Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes, Dakota,” Lulu says, “that is a picture of my passed-out sister being raped.”

Dakota looks from me to Lulu and then back at the picture. “I had no idea. She never said anything. Nothing at all.” She turns the picture over, hiding the offending image.

I stuff them back in the file. “You have no idea who did that to her?”

“No, no idea at all.”

I turn to Lulu. She nods, letting me know that she believes Dakota.

“And what about Hannah or Catie? Do you have any reason to believe they may know anyone in those pictures? Any reason to believe they know about the sexual assault?”

“I don’t talk to them anymore. But, no, I don’t think so.”

Lulu closes her notebook. “You didn’t stay in touch with them?”

“We tried. But it was too hard. I mean, Hannah and I are friends on social media, but that’s about it. She lives in Los Angeles, works for a local news station. Her husband works for a movie studio.”

“And what about Catie?”

She plants a look of empathy on her face. “Catie lost her way. She let the drugs control her life.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I guess she just wasn’t as strong as me and Hannah. Last I heard, she was a single mom, working at a diner, somewhere inKentucky, where she’s from. It’s so sad, really. Her family owns race horses, you know? She really could’ve been something.”

Dakota stands up, indicating she’s done with the interview. “Well, the children will be home soon. I should make sure the cook has a snack prepared. Is there anything else?”

“No. We have all we need.” I usher Lulu from the mansion, guiding her with a gentle hand on the small of her back. I’m determined to transfer the strength from my body to hers.

When we get to the front door, Dakota leans forward, whispering. “Edward doesn’t know about the mistakes of my youth. I assume you’ll use discretion and avoid tossing my name around when speaking to others about drug use. I was happy to talk with you today, but I’d hate to involve our attorneys in all of this.”

Lulu stiffens. A slow defiance creeps across her face, letting me know she’s had enough of Dakota and her pretentious ways. I quickly turn off the camera on my vest.

“Dakota, I have no idea how my sister counted you as a friend. You are a parasite, sucking the life out of everything around you, a maggot feeding on shit. Screw you.” Lulu spins around, stomping toward the truck. Tossing her head over her shoulder, she leaves Dakota with one last parting sting. “And by the way, my tits arewaybetter than yours, and I didn’t spend thousands of dollars on them. Get your money back.”

And… that’sMyLulu.

Chapter 21

CRUTCH

The bar is crowded tonight. Will’s had really good luck with lining up popular bands lately. I weave my way through the throngs of people. Some of the off-duty guys holler, asking me to join their table, but I point to the bar. Finding an empty barstool, I lean forward, waving a finger at Cullen.

He finishes with his line of customers, tosses a towel over his shoulder, and shakes my hand. “Hey, man, good to see you.” He sets my normal beer bottle in front of me.

“You too. Crowded tonight.”

“Yeah, the band’s supposed to be good. I thought I might have to miss it. Now that spring has rolled around, the wedding scene is picking up. Dad had a catering order for a rehearsal dinner, but it got canceled because the venue had a burst pipe.”

“That sucks. Did he lose out on the money?”

“The venue offered to pay the couple’s cancellation fee. I keep telling Dad it’s time for us to have our own event space. Something new and unusual and unique.”

“What does he say about that?”

Cullen shrugs. “That he’ll think about it. But I have enough great ideas to last for a lifetime.” He pounds his fist against the bar top and moves on to help another group of customers.

Pulling my cell phone from my pocket, I check the home screen for any missed calls or texts messages. She still hasn’t responded. And that pisses me off. And makes me pathetically sad. Like a lost little puppy.

“Something wrong?”

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