A Little Crushed Read Online Free PDF Page A

His skin was under her fingernails. The forensic team was in no doubt Rebecca killed him. The exactly how is what we don’t know.”
    “Does Rebecca’s story corroborate the police theory?” Max pushed his plate to one side, appetite long gone. The thought of what the poor girl must have suffered made him sick.
    “That’s just it. She doesn’t have a story.” Tom stood and crossed to a small glass drinks cabinet behind the sofa. “Rebecca was in a coma for weeks. Not because of the blow to her head, but most likely, the specialists said, because her brain went into defense mode. Better to shut down than face reality.”
    “But now? Surely…”
    “She remembers nothing, Max.” Tom handed him a tumbler of his best single malt. “At least not enough to fill in the gaps. From the time she set off into the woods alone to when she finally woke in the hospital, her mind remains blank. Again, the psychiatrist appointed to her case says it’s a self-preservation thing. In her sub-conscious, Rebecca has chosen not to remember. But he says one day she will need to deal with it. Memory loss is common amongst victims of abuse or trauma, but at some point…well who knows?”
    “I can’t blame Rebecca for wanting to forget.” Max sipped at his whisky. He needed it more than beer. “It’s so hard to fathom, like something plucked straight from the pages of a Patterson novel.” He groaned. “All those things I said to her…”
    “You weren’t to know.” Fiona patted his hand. “No one does. Her father wants it kept in the past. He disagrees with her doctors. He sees no need for his daughter to relive the nightmare. To be honest, I think I agree with him.”
    Max placed the half-empty glass on the table. He no longer wanted a drink. His mouth tasted sour. “So now what do I do?”
    Tom blew out a low whistle. “You do nothing. Look, I didn’t tell you this to imply Rebecca does not have to follow rules. It’s more of a heads up. A way of telling you, however abrupt, and yes, sometimes arrogant she gets, you mustn’t take it personally. She has encased herself is this armadillo shell, but it isn’t the real Rebecca.”
    “Point taken. Still, I wish I hadn’t gone in with all guns blazing.” Running fingers through his hair, he stood. “I best be going.”
    “Stay awhile.”
    Fiona said the generous words, but her expression spoke the truth. She was not comfortable with his being in town. He couldn’t blame her; he hadn’t treated her well.
    “Thanks.” He gave her a swift peck on the cheek—brotherly, but her tension transferred to him. “I’ll pass. Some quiet solitude is what I need after the day I’ve had. Besides, I’ve got a pile of year nine marking to wade through. Tell me, just out of interest, spelling is still taught in this God-forsaken country of yours, isn’t it?”
    “Naw. We abolished it. Politically incorrect, you know.”
    Max shook his head; it was another leg-pull. It had to be.
    * * * *
    “And just why is it we are going to the library instead of Shakes?”
    “Oh come on, Em, even you can’t be that dense. Do you honestly think I’m going to write out all those lines? I’ll do one page and photocopy it. He’ll never know.”
    “I don’t know…” Emma puffed, jogging to keep up. “He seems pretty much on the ball to me.”
    “Rubbish. He’s just flexing muscle for show.”
    “And what muscle it is.” Emma sighed. “Oh, how my young heart is newly captivated. Still, I don’t think I’d like to cross him. He looks as if he has a wicked temper. All fiery and sexy.” She giggled. “However, I would sit on his face.”
    Rebecca stopped walking. “Emma Brown, first off, that is so gross, and second, don’t you dare fancy him. That man is the enemy, and don’t you forget it.”
    “You are such a fascist. I can fancy who I like. Look, it’s him.” Emma waved as a sleek, black BMW convertible purred past. “Wow, nice car. Teachers are obviously onto a good