For a moment, I think Evelyn will argue. But then she taps her phone to bring up the images. She grimaces, then puts the phone in my hand, the screen pressed against my palm, and her own hand holding it in place.
“Be sure, Texas. Be sure you want to see this. To see him like that. You can’t unsee it, and to be honest, that wasn’t bad advice he just gave both of us. You can comfort the boy without ever taking a peek. And you can go do that right now. As much as I love your company, I’ve been dressing myself for about sixty years now. I can handle today, too. Especially since that boy needs you.”
I fight a smile. “I know. And I will go to him. But you already knew that.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle with her smile. “I did, Texas. That’s why you two are so good together.”
I swallow. We are good together, but part of that is because after a rocky start, we truly don’t have secrets between us. Not the kind that matter, anyway. Not the kind that fester and hurt. “I have to see,” I tell her. “I don’t want to, but I need to know. I need to understand.” Whatever is in that text has already clawed its way into Damien. The only question now is whether I have the power to help him heal.
She grimaces. “I know. You need to see it, and he needs you. And, honestly, I came up here to tell you both the damn thing existed. I didn’t think the fucker had sent Damien the same despicable text.” She frowns. “At least I assume he sent the same text. He or she, that is.”
“So let me see.” I look down pointedly to where her hand covers my palm.
She exhales heavily, but lifts her hand, then flips the phone over. The screen is unlocked, and I glance down, then wish that I hadn’t. I don’t need to see this, and yet at the same time I do. It’s a video, and not one I’ve seen before. Something Damien held back when he released the Richter photos, I think, then immediately change my mind. Damien’s never seen this before. That’s part of why he looked so wrecked moments ago.
The video is long—almost five minutes—and there are eight stills from the video, too. And each shows in graphic, frozen detail Damien and Sofia having intercourse in front of the camera when neither one of them was older than fourteen, him with a cock ring and with her wrists bound to the headboard.
I feel queasy, but force myself to watch to the end. I see Damien mouth, I’m sorry. I see the tears in Sofia’s eyes. And all I want to do is hurl that despicable phone across the room and watch it shatter.
Instead, I read the message.
I know what he did. I know how fucked up he is. I won’t let him get away with it. Take responsibility, or I’ll share this with the world.
“He?” I whisper, my stomach queasy. “They mean Richter, right? He’s the one who’s fucked up.”
“Richter’s dead,” Evelyn says gently. “You know that’s not who they mean.”
I swallow. She’s right. I know exactly what this means. Someone wants to release this. To embarrass Damien—or worse.
Evelyn takes the phone back, deliberately closing the app and making the screen go dark. “Whoever’s doing this hasn’t released the video or the stills yet, but they might. They haven’t said how Damien is supposed to ‘take responsibility,’ which probably means a blackmail note will follow. In the meantime, I’ve already contacted Charles. These images show minors and there’s no consent for release.”
Charles Maynard is Damien’s long-time attorney, and I assume he’s putting some sort of injunction in place. The photos that Damien released to the press have been aired all over, but I also remember that they were blurred, presumably because of both the content and Damien and Sofia’s ages.
“I thought all of this was behind us.” The drama with Sofia had twisted and twined through my relationship with Damien. She was his childhood friend despite what her father had made them do, or perhaps because of it. The trauma of their past had screwed them both up, but Damien had managed to channel his pain and fear and anger into tennis and then into his work. Sofia had gotten twisted up in it. Their past had messed her up mentally, so much so that if she weren’t dead, she’d be at the top of my suspect list.
But, of course, she’s not behind this new version of hell, and that leaves me floundering, wondering not only who knows this horrific truth, but who would drag it out of the dark simply to torment Damien.
And on this day, too.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell Evelyn. “Whoever is behind this is fucking with Damien, but this is against you, too. It’s coming on your wedding day, and I can’t believe that whoever sent this doesn’t know that you represent Damien.”
“I don’t just rep him, Texas. He’s family. Always has been, and even more so after today. You are, too. Come here, honey,” she adds, hooking an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.
It’s only then that I realize I’m crying. “I thought we were past this,” I say again, my throat thick with tears.
Not that Damien will ever truly be over it; what happened to him in his youth both shaped him and haunts him. But I’d foolishly assumed that there was no one left who had the information or interest in using his childhood trauma as a hammer against him. Then to wield that hammer in order to break Damien down for their own purposes.
And the truth is, I can’t imagine who has done this. Who would have access to this video, and who would be ballsy enough to wield it.
“Jeremiah, possibly,” Evelyn says when I voice the question.
“He’s at the top of the list, of course, but he never had the original Richter photos, and these must have been part of that group. Something Sofia held back when she sent the originals to the court.”
Damien had been on trial for Richter’s murder, and the evidence had been bad, especially since Damien had refused to testify about the abuse. But then the images had been delivered anonymously to the court, proving the child abuse that Damien had desperately wanted to keep a secret and giving the court a reason to dismiss the charges.
Damien was given a copy of the images the court received, and I’ve seen them all. These weren’t in that package.
At the time, we’d suspected that Damien’s father, Jeremiah, had anonymously delivered the evidence to the court, but it turned out that he’d had no knowledge. It wasn’t until later that we learned that Sofia had delivered them.
“These could have belonged to anyone who knew Richter,” I say. “He could have sold them to some pervert who’s held onto them for years.” I frown, my thoughts raising another question. “And why now? What was the trigger?”
“I don’t know. We might never know. Not until whoever is behind this decides to show himself.”
“Sofia’s death, maybe? But it’s been so long.” It’s been over three years since Sofia died, taking a bullet to save me, her sacrifice both ironic and heartwarming considering that not long before, she’d truly wanted me dead.
“Wounds fester,” Evelyn said. “But it still leaves open the question of who. Perhaps she told someone what happened back then. Someone other than her therapists and doctors, that is.”
I frown, something else occurring to me. “Damien used to tell me about him and Sofia and Alaine hanging out together. I assumed all of that was while the abuse was going on, but Richter died when Damien was fourteen, and I’m sure he’s older than that in one of the photos of the three of them that he keeps in the library.”