He picked up the phone to call the hospital, but dropped it on the cradle. She wouldn't talk to him on the phone anyway. Instead, he told his secretary that something had come up and to cancel everything for the day. He grabbed his jacket and brief case and headed straight for Bellevue.
It took the better part of the day and several thousand dollars worth of palm grease to find her. He didn't stop to wonder why he'd even bothered. She was registered as Sheila Jackson and had a private room near the maternity ward. He found the room with no trouble and went inside. The lights were off, the TV was playing quietly, and the figure on the bed was covered with a sheet. No one else was in there.
"Aimee?" He stepped closer, putting his hand on her hip. "Aimee?"
She flinched and curled on herself. "I told you not to look for me. There's nothing you can do."
"I was worried."
"About me?" Her voice sounded funny. It was hoarse and slurred. "I'm the bitch. The sister you hate. Remember?"
"I don't hate you."
"I don't need your pity."
"You think I'm here because I feel sorry for you?"
"Why are you here, Joe?"
He really didn't know. He had developed a soft spot for her, or in his head. "I care about you."
"After what I did? Go away."
"I don't know. I haven't been mad at you since..." He rubbed her hip and she jerked away.
"Since I told you and you pitied me."
"No, since I gave you the spanking the first time."
"The spanking?"
"I liked the way you came for me." He shifted his weight, uncomfortable. "I think about it a lot."
"But–"
"I wanted to see you again. You probably think I'm crazy, but I can't stop thinking about you."
"I think you should leave."
"Why?"
She sighed, a shallow one that sounded full of pain. "I don't want you."
"Liar."
"Look, it's not good for you–"
"It's him. You're still afraid of him."
The sigh was punctuated by a sob this time. "You don't understand. He's so powerful. He'll hurt you and you've been hurt enough."
"I'm not afraid of him, Aimee. He isn't God and he can't hurt me unless I let him. And I don't intend to let him. I promise you that. He can try to take my job, but the people I work for aren't intimidated by anyone. Neither am I. You're going to have to stop being afraid of him."
"It's not that easy."
"Sure it is. You just realize that he's only a man."
She rolled onto her back and ripped the sheet back. A small cry of pain came with the violent motion. "Only a man? It only takes a man to do this!"
"Fuck!"
She was covered in fading bruises. Even in the low light from window he could see the garish green and yellow coloring. Fresh bruises were on top of the older ones. Her arm was in a cast and so was her nose. "Can't you see? You have to go. Just go and leave me alone. It's better this way."
There was no way in hell he was going to leave her. "No. You're coming with me. I'm going to kill that bastard."
"No!" She jerked, trying to sit up.
"Easy, lay down. I won't kill him. But I won't let him do this again. Who is your doctor? I'm going to take you home now. I'll get a private nurse–"
"I'm not going with you."
"You can't want to stay with him!"
"I don't have a choice."
"Oh my God, Aimee, your inheritance isn't worth the price."
"It's not the money. It's Chrissy. I'm the only thing keeping him away from her. You have to go. Now."
"How long has this been going on?"
"If I tell you, will you leave?"
"Yes."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Do you promise?"
"I promise, sweetheart."
She looked vaguely mollified. "Mother, well, she's never really been around. They're still married, but they don't live together unless they need to. When I was old enough to, we started messing around and having sex. That was okay until he decided he wanted Chrissy, too. I made him stay away from her. If he touched her then I'd run straight to Mother and the cops and tell on him. He threatened to kill me if I ever told, but I couldn't let him touch Chrissy. He made a deal. If I became his slut, then he'd leave her alone. Since I was already anyway, I agreed. She doesn't know any of this. She can't."
"And this whole thing last month was staged for her benefit?"
"You weren't good enough for the Princess. He wanted someone with the right connections, not some heathen from no where. He found out that you'd been having sex with her and then you got engaged. He always sends her to Europe when he wants something to happen. I don't know what he would have done if that girl hadn't come for a visit. Your sister, right?"
"Right. And he beat you because?"
"I wasn't supposed to let you fuck me. Just get naked. Maybe oral sex if I had to wait too long for her to get there."
"Both beatings?"
"Both?"
"Nice try. I've seen enough bruises in my life. He beat you a while ago and then he beat you recently. What set him off?"
"Please, Joe, just go. Now."
"Aimee–"
"I can't, please." Her hoarse, broken voice ripped at him.
"All right."
"Goodbye, Joe." Her voice held a note of finality, as if she expected to never see him again.
"Take care, sweetheart."
He didn't want to go back to the office, so he went home. He needed to think. He needed to go kill that bastard. Mostly, he needed to think. Back home he would have gone to a sweat lodge, usually he went to a steam bath here, but he didn't want to be around other people. Instead, he sipped a cup of coffee, leaned his back against the kitchen counter, and stared at the table.
She was protecting Christine, there was no doubt about that. He had a feeling that she was trying to protect him, too. She'd made herself responsible for caging the monster. It was time for that to stop. And he knew just how to do it. Daddy didn't like heathen savages. It was time for Daddy to meet a real one.
The mansion on Carnegie Hill was quiet at night. Rutledge didn't like the help to stick around, he'd found out. Probably so there'd be no interference when he diddled with his daughter. Joe had been watching the house for a while now. It had taken a few months for the information he required to come back from the investigator. During that time he'd done his own homework on the mansion.
Even though the urge had almost overpowered him, he'd skipped on the war paint and breechclout. Instead he wore jeans and a black t-shirt. He'd waited around until the last of the help had gone on home, then slipped inside. High tech security was no match for a guy with the money to learn how to bypass it. He crept through the house, climbing up the stairs to the floor that held the bedrooms. He identified Christine's by the faint scent of Chanel and Aimee's by the smell of gardenia. Crouching on the other side of a set of double doors, he listened intently. Nothing more than MacNeil and Lehrer quietly discussing something. Then a male cough.
