A Flash of Red

"Mr. Will Anderson? Do you know a young lady named Annabelle Harris?"

"Anna?" Dread rushed into him. "Did something happen? Is she all right?"

"She's fine." Detective Gomez stepped forward. "Sir, we're going to need you to come down to the station to answer some questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"About rape."

Ice formed in his veins and his chest constricted. "Rape? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Sir, we'd rather not do this here." Gomez kept his voice low. "I'd also prefer not to cuff you, though I will." He rested his hand on his sidearm.

Will stumbled through locking up his gear and then, with the detectives flanking him, marched from the worksite. A number of his coworkers stopped what they were doing to watch. His face reddened on the walk, and then again as they put him in the back seat of their unmarked car, but with effort, he was able to stay calm.

A mistake. This has to be a mistake.

He made the ride to the station in silence. Neither detective seemed inclined to speak.

If they think I'm a rapist, I can imagine why they don't want to talk to me.

The detectives led him to an interview room but had still not restrained him. Since he had not been arrested and not been read his rights, Will decided not to give them a reason to do so. He decided to wait. The father of his best friend growing up was a cop and had told Will once that if left in quiet, many suspects would get nervous, feel guilty, and hang themselves by blurting out things. Will was glad he had stayed hydrated and used the port-a-john at the job site. He settled into his chair to see what they had, determined to not make the first comment.

Gomez settled on the other side of the table and flipped open a folder. He read from it without looking at Will. Simmons, on the other hand, paced behind the table, his face set in a glower.

Looks like they have the "good-cop, bad-cop" routine already worked out.

After a few moments of silence, Gomez raised his eyes. "So. Mr. Anderson. May I call you Will?"

He didn't like the power play but Will nodded.

"Will, is there anything you want to tell us?"

"If you're asking if I've done something wrong, then no. I have nothing to say because I haven't done anything."

"Hmmm." Gomez returned his attention to the report.

Simmons walked around the table, placed his curled fists on it, and glared at Will. "This will go a lot easier on you if you just start talking."

"Talking about what? I haven't done anything."

The detective sneered. He leaned closer. "So raping a girl is nothing to you?"

"I didn't rape anyone."

"Bullshit!" Simmons slammed his hand on the desk.

Will flinched but managed not to leap out of his seat. A spark of anger flickered in his mind. He glanced at Gomez. "You want to call off your attack dog? Unless he wants to skip the yelling and go straight to roughing up a suspect, he can skip the outrage."

Simmons' eyes narrowed but Gomez said, "Bob." Simmons jerked his hands off the desk and retreated to the corner. "Will, we have a witness who said you slept with Annabelle Harris."

"I didn't force her. I never have. And how is that any of your goddamn business?"

His eyes bored into Will's. "That's your story. Are you sure you don't want to tell us anything?"

"No. Not a thing. Am I under arrest?"

Gomez glanced at Simmons. "No. Give us a moment, Will. We'll be back shortly." He rose and the two left.

Will folded his arms and stared at the wall.

Gomez returned a few moments later. "All right, Will. We don't have anything further for you at the moment, though I would strongly advise you against leaving town until this matter is resolved." Will opened his mouth to object but the detective continued. "I also must inform you that based on the witness insistence that the young lady's life is in danger, there is a restraining order in effect, ordering you to maintain a five-hundred-foot distance from Annabelle Harris. If you insist on violating that order, you will be immediately arrested." The gleam in his eye told Will that Gomez hoped he would do just that. "Do not approach Ms. Harris, or call, email, or text her. No contact. Do not give the judge an excuse. Do you understand?"

Will gave him a wooden nod.

Gomez stood. "Fine. The desk sergeant will be here in a moment to see you out." Gomez stood and headed for the door. His steely eyes fixed on Will. "We'll be talking soon." He left.

Will scarcely heard the man depart. He was too busy trying to figure out what the hell had happened.

#

ANNA

She frowned at the phone. For the second time, she'd dialed Will's number ... and for the second time, it went straight to his voice mail. When the message played, she said, "Will, it's me. Call me, please!" Anna disconnected the call and put the phone away.

It's been two days. Why hasn't he called back?

She returned to her workstation but was only able to stay seated for a few minutes before her nerves forced her to stand and pace back and forth.

The last time she and Will had talked had been three days before. They'd made plans to go to a movie that weekend. He'd ended the call by telling Anna he loved her and she'd said the same. The next night, he'd missed her call. Anna hadn't been too concerned, since Will sometimes fell asleep early after a hard day and didn't hear his phone. Every time that had happened, though, he'd called her in the morning, so she expected the same. That call hadn't come and now, for the second night in a row, her calls went straight to voice mail.

Something's wrong.

She worked through the first half of her shift, feeling more and more distracted and worried. After a few hours, her anxiety grew so bad she couldn't take it. Anna clocked out early and drove to his apartment.

Her tension mounted when she spotted Will's F150 in its normal spot, which meant he was home. She pulled into a guest parking slot, killed the ignition, and trotted up the steps to his unit but stopped, unsure of what to say. If the guy was avoiding her—

She scowled. He doesn't get off that easy. If he's ducking me, he's going to regret it. She hammered the panel. "Will? Will! I know you're in there. Will!"

She heard a shuffling from within and a quiet voice speaking but the door remained closed. She pounded on the door with both hands. "Damn it, Will! Open this door right now!"

"Hey!" An irate shout drifted up from below. "Keep it down!"

Anna lowered her volume. "Will? Baby, come on. Talk to me. What's going on?" Tears crept into her eyes. He voice cracked. "Will, please ..."

Her phone rang. She didn't recognize the number but in her panic, she answered anyway. "Hello?"

An unfamiliar voice answered. "Ms. Harris? This is Detective Juan Gomez, Grand Junction PD. Are you all right?"

"Huh? I'm fine, why are you calling me?"

"Are you with Will Anderson?"

"I'm outside his apartment. What's going on? Is Will all right?"

"Ms. Harris." The detective spoke with the air of someone addressing an upset child. "If you persist in voluntarily approaching Mr. Anderson, you may invalidate the restraining order. You could be placing yourself in greater danger."

"What?" Her hand tightened on the phone. "Restraining order? What are you talking about?"

"It's for your protection, ma'am."

"I don't need protection from him."

"Ms. Harris—"

"Where are you? What's the address of the station?" The detective told her. Anna snarled, "Don't you dare move. I'm coming down to clear this up right now."

It only took her ten minutes to reach the precinct. Anna cursed under her breath the entire way.

Detective Gomez must have taken her statement at face value; as soon as Anna introduced herself to the officer manning the front desk, a short man in his mid-thirties detached from the jumble of desks and hurried toward her. He was followed by a taller man about the same age. He said, "Annabelle Harris?"

"Yes. Anna."

"Detective Juan Gomez." He motioned to the other man. "This is Detective Bob Simmons. Let's go somewhere and talk."

"We can talk here. Why is my boyfriend under a restraining order from seeing me?"

Gomez blinked. "William Anderson is your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

The two detectives shared an apprehensive glance. "It's a standard procedure. Since Mr. Anderson has been accused of committing a sexual assault against you, he—"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Anna exploded. "He never did that!"

"We have a witness that says he did."

"Who?"

"We can't say. You understand, Ms. Harris, that until you're a legal adult, you—"

"What?" Anna's voice rose to a shriek. Heads all over the station turned their direction. "Are you people insane?"

Simmons said, "Ma'am, our witness said you were seventeen."

"I'm nineteen." Anna dug into her purse and produced her driver's license. She shoved it in the faces of the two detectives. Both looked uncertain, which only made her more angrier. "Will Anderson never touched me in any way I didn't want him to. He hasn't harmed me or forced me do a single thing. Nobody has seen us being intimate together so anyone who says he hurt me is lying."

She thought Simmons looked a little green around the gills. Gomez rallied a little faster. "If he's threatened you, we can protect you. You can testify and—"

"No! I'm not pressing charges and I will never testify against him, no matter what. Are you hearing me? Never! Is that all you have? Some witness who never saw anything? You're issuing restraining orders based on that? If you don't want me making a stink about this, you damn well better undo this. Now!"

The detective's shoulders slumped. "He has not been formally charged, only questioned. We will table the investigation."

Anna noted the entire front half of the precinct was watching but was beyond caring. "How do I get that restraining order canceled?"

"That, uh, will have to be handled by the court," Gomez mumbled. "We'll call the Assistant DA, who will get it on the docket to have it reversed."

"Good." She folded her arms. Just a misunderstanding. I knew it. Will, I'm so sorry, baby. "I still want to know who reported this. Like I said, I'm an adult and I deserve to know who's lying about us. Maybe I feel like suing someone."

Gomez and Simmons looked at each other. After a second, Simmons said, "Florence Harris."

Anna's nostrils flared and the blood drained from her face. "My mother? Oh. Hell. No." She spun and stomped from the station.

#

WILL

He barely parted the curtain, just enough to watch Anna stomp down the front stairs. As he withdrew his hand, he saw it was shaking.

Goddamn it.

Will slumped on his couch. He'd wanted nothing more than to open the door and take her in his arms but the words of the detective kept ringing through his head: don't give the judge an excuse. When he'd called Gomez, the man had all but yelled at him to stay inside, which Will planned on doing anyway. He gave Gomez Anna's number and asked him to get her to leave. After taking his call, she had.

He wondered at Anna's game. Was she trying to get him in trouble by coming to his apartment? Set him up, so he'd violate the order? Would she do that to him? Could she? What had happened that had turned her on him so badly? Will wanted to think it was a mistake—an oversight. But he'd been waiting for a call, to let him know as much and it hadn't come. He raised his beer and took a sip.

His phone buzzed. Will glanced at it, apprehensive, but the number indicated it was from the front office at the job site. His answering tone was mechanical. "Hello?"

"Will. Jim Pasquale here."

A bolt of ice shot down his spine. Jim never called him at home. "Yeah? What's up?"

"Will, I'm afraid I have to tell you that we're cutting you loose. You'll be paid for the remainder of the week."

"What?"

Pasquale's voice was ice-cold. "In light of the accusations against you, we feel that we shouldn't be associated with you any longer."

"Jim, I didn't do anything. This is a mistake."

"Sorry, but the owners decided. You have two days to clear company housing. And you need to get your equipment from the job site by tonight. I can't vouch for its safety past then."

Will opened his mouth but his ex-boss had already disconnected. He dropped the phone on the cushion next to him and stared at the wall. After a moment, he hauled himself to his feet, went to his bedroom, and dressed. The work site was as bad as any gossip mill he'd ever seen; news of his detainment would have spread. He figured that if he left his welders and other gear at the work site for too long, his stuff might meet with some kind of "accident" and he couldn't afford to replace it all.

As he drove, Will wondered how much worse his life could get.

Thankfully, his assigned shed was unmolested. He loaded his welders and other gear, then threw some tarps over them so that even under the truck shell, no one could tell what was in there. He locked the rear truck door and drove back to the apartments. As he pulled into his assigned slot, he glanced at the manager's office and sighed. He'd have to see the man first thing in the morning, to arrange his move out. Also, he would need to phone his folks and let them know he'd need his room at home for a few days ... and he was not looking forward to that call. Will killed the ignition and headed for the steps leading to his front door.

Just as he reached the base of the stairs, a corpulent shadow detached from the nearby gloom. A rumbling laugh pealed from the figure. "Hey, Anderson."

Will's reflexes went on full alert. "I'm not in the mood, asshole." The carpenter shambled from the dark. Will noted the dark circles under his eyes and slurred words. "You're drunk, Holcomb. Go sleep it off."

He made to step past the man but Holcomb extended a palm and placed it in Will's chest. "Uh, no, not so fast." He belched. "I heard about what those cops took you away for."

"It was bullshit."

"Nope. It was about that little redhead you had up at your place." He sneered. "I hear what you did to that girl, you asshole."

Holcomb shoved Will but Will had been expecting it. He grabbed Holcomb's wrist and twisted the big man's arm. Holcomb yelled and tried to spin away but tripped over his own feet and stumbled to the ground. He rolled to a sitting position and glared at Will, who said, "Stay down, man. I don't want to make this worse than it is."

"Oh, sure." He struggled to stand but collapsed in a heap. As Will walked around him, Holcomb yelled, "Fucking rapist! You better get your ass out of here."

Will glanced to either side. A dozen other contractors and workers stood by the doors, staring at him. Their expressions ranged from unfriendly to downright hostile. He wanted to shout, to proclaim his innocence but the protest died on his lips and he hung his head.

They've already made up their minds. None of them would believe me anyway. He could barely get his mouth to work but he managed to raise his voice. "I'll be leaving as soon as I can. In the meantime, I recommend you all keep your distance."

He trudged into his apartment.

#

ANNA

She whipped the steering wheel so hard to the left that even at her low speed, her vehicle nearly jumped the curb and went into the lawn. Instead, she slammed the brakes. Gravel sprayed and the car shuddered to a halt.

Anna was out of the vehicle before it stopped fully moving. She didn't shut the car door behind her but ran straight to the house, leaped to the porch, and flung open the front door. "Mom!"

Florence lolled on the couch. Her head flopped to the side. "Hello, girl. You finish your tricks today?"

Anna's hands clenched. Her fingernails dug into her palms. Her temper fought her for control. "Mom ... Mom, what did you tell the police?"

Florence's bleary eyes took on a hint of guilt. "Nothing."

"I'm not kidding, Florence." She noted her mother's flinch at the use of her first name. Anna took a step toward her. "What did you tell them about Will?"

"Oh, that guy." Florence made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "I told them that guy was taking advantage of you."

"Why?"

She wobbled to her feet. "Because he is, baby. I needed to get rid of him."

"Mom, he didn't rape me."

"Sure he did." Florence raised the whiskey bottle to her mouth, tilted her head back, and chugged. Amber liquid leaked out, streaking her cheeks. She stopped and inhaled hard. "That's all men do: maul you for their selfish wants and needs."

"Mom—"

"And then, after you've given them your best years, they run away. That's what he was gonna do to you, Anna."

Anna's breathing accelerated. She fought to avoid hyperventilating. Her field of vision narrowed. Blood roared in her ears. "Mom, I love him. He loves me."

"Sure." The older woman's lips curled into a drunken snarl. "That's what they all say. Your father told me he loved me. Sam at the end of the street tells me he loves me. The only thing either of them ever did was stick their useless cocks in me. Love? Men can't love, Anna. All fucking assholes out for themselves, not a worthwhile soul among them. That's why we have to stick together. That's why I—"

Anna snapped. Months of mounting stress and worry, of enduring her mother's vitriol, finally erupted. Her mind felt as if it was on fire. She charged across the room, right into her mother's face. "Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!"

Florence stared at her, mouth agape and eyes wide.

"You stupid, stupid bitch!" Anna's screams reverberated inside the small room. "How the fuck would you know anything about men? All you've done is crawl inside the bottle for two fucking years and made my life miserable. I hate you!"

Florence's lip curled. "You will not talk to me that way." She raised an open hand. "Sass me some more and—"

Anna's palm crashed into her mother's cheek. Florence staggered and flopped to the couch. She touched one trembling hand to the red mark on her cheek. "Anna—"

The sight of her mother pitiful stare only enraged Anna further. "I told you to fucking shut up. God, you can't even do that. I'm working my ass off to keep us afloat while you sit here and drink yourself to death. You blow anyone who offers you a bottle of booze, yet you call me a whore every day. I let it go because I thought it was the liquor talking but it wasn't. It's you! You self-centered, goddamned evil fucking cunt! Do you know Will is the first man I've ever been with? I've barely even kissed another guy. I saved myself for someone I love and who loves me. And you try to get him arrested, for something he didn't do? What the fuck kind of mother are you?"

Her mom's lip quivered.

Anna lowered her voice. She bent over her mother until the two women were nose-to-nose. Spent by her outburst, the heat of her rage faded, leaving only the bitter cold of hard determination. Icicles dangled from her words. "Mom, if you've driven Will away from me, I will never forgive you. And I will never speak to you again."

A tear trickled loose from Florence's cheek. "Anna, baby ... I don't want to lose you."

"If Will's gone, you already lost me."

She stomped past her mother to her room and slammed the door. The hollow boom triggered her fractured mind. Anna fell on the bed and wept. Sobs wracked her body. For so long, she had only wanted to be loved and when she had it, fate snatched it from her grasp. She buried her face in her pillows, crying at the unfairness of the universe.

A moment later, the worst of the storm had passed. Anna sat up and rubbed her face with her sleeve. She stared at her phone, as if she could mentally will her man to call her. He didn't but just staring at the phone sparked a memory and an idea came Gomez's words returned to her. Anna wiped away the last of her tears. She cursed herself, wondering why she hadn't caught it in the moment. Was it too late? She shook her head.