The Good Daughter (The Good Daughter #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,163

wall, then he was on his knees and then he was holding Charlotte.

“My baby,” he cried, enveloping her body in his. “My treasure.”

Charlotte felt the slow release of her muscles. Her father was like a drug. She became a rag doll in his arms.

“My baby,” he said.

“Gamma—”

“I know!” Rusty wailed. She felt his chest shake as he struggled to control his sorrow. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

Charlotte began to sob; not from the pain, but from fear because she had never seen her father cry.

“I’ve got you.” He rocked her. “Daddy’s here. I’ve got you.”

Charlotte was crying so hard that she couldn’t open her eyes. “Sam—”

“I know,” he said. “We’ll find her.”

“They buried her.”

Rusty let out a howl of despair.

“It was the Culpeppers,” Charlotte said. Knowing their names, telling them to Rusty, was the only thing that had kept her moving. “Zach and his brother.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “We got an ambulance coming. They’re going to take care of you.”

“Daddy.” Charlotte lifted her head. She put her mouth close to his ear. She whispered, “Zach put his thing inside of me.”

Rusty’s arms slowly fell away. It was like the air had been let out of him. His mouth dropped open. He crumbled to the floor. His eyes scanned back and forth as he looked at Charlotte’s face. His throat worked again. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a whimper.

“Daddy,” she whispered again.

Rusty put his fingers to her mouth. He bit his lip, like he didn’t want to speak, but he had to.

He asked, “He raped you?”

Charlotte nodded.

Rusty’s hand dropped like a stone. He looked away. He shook his head. His tears had turned into two rivers running down the sides of his face.

Charlotte felt the shame of his silence. Her father knew the things that men like Zachariah Culpepper did. He could not even look at her.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said. “I didn’t run fast enough.”

Rusty’s eyes went to Miss Heller, then finally, slowly back to Charlotte. “It’s not your fault.” He cleared his throat. He said it again. “It’s not your fault, baby. Do you hear me?”

Charlotte heard him, but she did not believe him.

“What happened to you,” Rusty said, sounding strident. “It’s not your fault, but we can’t tell anybody else, okay?”

Charlotte could only stare. You didn’t have to lie if something wasn’t your fault.

Rusty said, “It’s a private thing, and we’re not going to tell anybody, okay?” He looked up at Judith Heller again. “I know what lawyers do to girls who are raped. I’m not going to put my daughter through that hell. I won’t let people treat her like she’s damaged.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. His voice became stronger. “They’ll hang for this. Those two boys are murderers, and they’ll die for it, but please don’t let them take my daughter with them. Please. It’s too much. It’s just too much.”

He waited, his eyes on Miss Heller. Charlie turned around. Miss Heller looked down at her. She nodded.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Rusty rested his hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. He looked at her face again, saw the blood and bone and sticks and leaves that had become glued to her body. He touched the ripped seam of her shorts. His tears started to flow again. He was thinking about what had been done to her, what had been done to Sam, to Gamma. He dropped his face into his hands. His sobs turned into howls. He fell against the wall, racked by grief.

Charlotte tried to swallow. Her throat was too dry. She could not clear the taste of sour milk. She was torn up inside. She could still feel the steady flow of blood sliding down the inside of her leg.

“Daddy,” Charlotte said. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” He grabbed her, shook her. “Don’t ever apologize, Charlotte. Do you hear me?”

He seemed so angry that Charlotte dared not speak.

“I’m sorry,” Rusty stuttered out. He got up on his knees. He wrapped his hand around the back of her head, pressed his face to her face, their noses touching. She could smell cigarette smoke and his musky cologne. “You listen to me, Charlie Bear. Are you listening?”

Charlotte stared into his eyes. Red lines spoked out from the blue irises.

He said, “It’s not your fault. I am your daddy, and I am telling you that none of this is your fault.” He waited. “Okay?”

Charlotte nodded. “Okay.”

Rusty whimpered out another breath. He swallowed hard.