Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 62
It was then that I felt the hot tears streaming down the sides of my nose and I gasped before letting out a loud sob as I held my forehead in my hand and let it all pour out.
* * *
Because I had time on my hands and no appetite, I decided to do a little research instead of eating lunch.
First, I decided to use the internet to find out what I could about sexual offenders.
I probably should have avoided it.
Instead, I ran down the rabbit hole, and if I’d thought my mental condition had been bad before, I’d had no idea how much worse it could get. I discovered that an alarming number of criminal charges were filed every year in Colorado for sexual abuse against children—and every year the numbers grew worse. Most victims were female and under the age of twelve.
That was bad enough.
But then I discovered that most sentences didn’t lead to these fucking monsters being locked behind bars where they’d never again see the light of day. Instead, they were usually given probation, allowing them to find new victims and ruin more lives.
I should have stopped reading there—but I felt compelled to dig deeper, finding information that was even more horrifying. Why would there ever need to be a criminal charge of forced sexual penetration with a foreign object? Why were most offenders white middle-class men?
But the biggest question: Why were only ten percent ever found guilty?
The more I read, the worse I felt, and the more convinced I became that the man who abused my child would probably experience nothing more than a few days in court…meaning Sarah would be his victim, not just now but forever.
I couldn’t fucking allow that to happen.
I knew now what I had to do.
Chapter Twenty-three
Before leaving the house to pick up Sarah for her appointment, I did a little more internet research. I found the home page for Riverside Elementary, a school with a classy website that seemed misleading. I clicked on the link for the fifth grade and discovered that, although there were four teachers listed, not one was Mr. Buckley. So I searched all the grades, looking for a familiar photo. Although I saw some of Sarah’s older teachers, none was Mr. Buckley.
Finally, though, I found him—on a Past Faculty page.
So he was no longer at the school? Jesus, I wanted to punch my hand through the computer screen, looking at his face with his slight smile and thinning blond hair. He appeared to be around my age, and he looked like a perfectly normal person.
While I was glad he was no longer teaching at Riverside, it didn’t mean he wasn’t victimizing some other girl or girls.
After staring at his bland face, I then Googled him. If the information that came up was correct, I knew exactly where he lived.
Still in Winchester.
When I picked Sarah up for her appointment with Rebecca, I marveled at how much better she seemed. She actually had a smile on her face, signaling to me that she really was healing.
So I hid from her that I was feeling much, much worse—and I wasn’t quite sure how to handle that.
* * *
I was fucking losing it. When I went to class that night, I got to take two midterm exams that I’d completely forgotten about. By this point, though, it didn’t matter. Either I’d pass or I wouldn’t. In the grand scheme of things, what the fuck did it matter? I’d been so focused on school last year, I’d missed what had happened to my daughter.
Maybe my priorities had been fucked up.
When I walked out of the building toward the parking lot, my head was throbbing, my right hand cramping. The skies above felt different. There were no stars and the clouds were visible in the evening sky, indicating snow in the air…just in time for Halloween. Various students walked past me, laughing and chattering, and I tugged my jacket more tightly around my torso, realizing it was probably time to dig out my coat.
I was halfway to the parking lot when I heard Justin’s voice. “Randi!”
Turning my head, I stopped walking until he caught up. “Hey.”
“I kept hollering at you. You ignorin’ me now?”
Normally, I’d enjoy this banter…but not today. “No. Just distracted.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“What do you think?”
He let out a long breath as we continued walking. “Can I do anything?”
“What can you do?” After several steps, I spat out, “Why do you even bother asking? You won’t do the one thing I asked you to.”
Without looking, I could sense he stopped walking but I kept my steady pace toward the van. Soon, he caught up to me. “We already talked about this. I can’t do what you want me to.” I continued walking without hesitation, giving him a shrug as an answer—but I didn’t look at him. “Do you want me to go to jail?”
“No. Forget I said anything, okay?”
“What the hell are you thinking, Randi? I know—”
As if a volcano had been brewing in my chest, it erupted, spewing acid toward the man I called my best friend. Stopping in my tracks, I pointed my finger like a dagger, jabbing toward his chest. “You don’t know shit, Justin. Your daughter wasn’t fucking molested by some desperate predator. Your life isn’t fucking falling apart. You don’t know shit.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically calm and quiet. “Whoa, filly. You’re right—I don’t know what you’re going through. I don’t have kids. I don’t understand how you feel. But I do know one thing. If you do anything like what you’re thinking about—and I’m not stupid, sweetheart; I know what