The Girl Who Cried Murder. Пола Грейвс
other thing she did is what I’d like to address today,” he added. “As soon as she was in the position to do so, Charlie bowled me over. She used her full weight to catch me off balance and send me to the ground. And yet I outweigh her by at least eighty pounds. Probably more. Which goes to show, even if your assailant is larger than you, you have more leverage than you think.”
Charlie wrapped her arms around her, feeling exposed and vulnerable. She edged back toward the wall as Mike Strong walked the rest of the students through an attacker’s vulnerable points and how to strike back at those areas more effectively.
“Put your weight into everything you do. If you can hurt them, you’re that much closer to knocking them down and getting away. Now, I want the bigger partners to suit up and play the part of the attacker. Smaller partners, go after the pressure points. For now, avoid the nose and face. What I want you to practice is putting your full weight into everything you do. Turn your body into a weapon.”
The rest of the group got started. There was a lot of noise, most of it self-conscious laughter. Charlie watched the others for a moment, until she felt Mike’s gaze on her.
She looked at him. He was studying her as if she were some scientific experiment on display. Her cheeks, which had finally started to cool off, went hot again.
She half expected him to ask her what the hell had happened when he grabbed her. Surely he’d seen that her panic had been real.
But when he spoke, he asked, “Have you had any self-defense training before?”
“I was a skinny freckled redhead in public school,” she answered, going for levity. “I had twelve years of self-defense training.”
He smiled faintly. “Formal training?”
“I’ve read a lot. Watched a lot of videos on the ’net.”
“So you’ve done the mental work. Just not the physical.”
“Something like that.”
“I have an intermediate class that meets Tuesday and Thursday afternoons at four. Do you think you could make that class?”
He thought she should go into an intermediate class? Why? She hadn’t exactly covered herself in glory so far.
“I have a flexible work schedule,” she said finally, wondering just what an intermediate self-defense class would entail. “But I’m really just a beginner,” she added quickly. “I just got lucky earlier.”
“That wasn’t luck. That was your instincts kicking in. You’ve internalized the lessons in your head. Now your body needs to learn how to do the things your brain has already processed. But there’s no need for you to start from the beginning when you’d be learning a lot more in an advanced class.”
Charlie narrowed her eyes, not sure she trusted Mike Strong’s motives for wanting to move her out of the beginner class. She’d seen the wariness in his eyes earlier. And even now, there was a hint of tension in his jaw when he spoke, as if he was trying to hide his real thoughts.
“You think I could keep up?” she asked.
“I think so. If you feel differently after a class or two, you can always come back to this class.”
“And is self-defense the only thing you learn in the intermediate class?” she asked before she thought the question through.
His brow creased. “What else would you be looking to learn?”
She cleared her throat. “I just meant—there’s more to protecting yourself than just being able to get out of physical situations, isn’t there?”
Mike looked at her for a long moment, then jerked his attention away, his gaze shifting across the gymnasium, as if he’d just remembered that he was supposed to be supervising the class. “Darryl, the padding doesn’t mean you can be a brute. This is our first time out. Try not to break Melanie’s neck, how about it?”
Charlie watched the rest of the class giggle and grunt their way through the exercises while Mike went through the group, offering suggestions and gentle correction. Right about now, she’d give anything to be one of them, one of the group instead of standing here like a flagpole in the middle of the desert, visible from every direction.
Mike finally wandered back to where she stood. “The intermediate class is mainly about physical self-defense,” he finally answered in response to her earlier question. “But if you have any specific questions about how to protect yourself, you can always ask.”
“If I do, I will,” she said, not sure she meant it. He was giving off all the vibes of a man who was suspicious of her motives, and considering her little freak-out a few minutes ago, she couldn’t really blame him.
The last thing she needed to do was pique his curiosity.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon in the intermediate course?” Mike glanced at her, his expression suggesting he wasn’t sure she’d say yes.
But he wanted her to say yes, she realized.
The question was, why?
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’ll be there.”
“Can you stick around for the rest of the class?”
The twinkle in his eyes gave her pause, but she made herself smile. “Should I say no?”
He laughed. “There are still a few moves I need to show the class. And since you’re here...”
“I get to be the damsel in distress?”
He shook his head slowly. “The one thing I’m pretty sure you’ve never been, Charlie, is the damsel in distress.”
* * *
“SO, WHAT DO you think?”
Mike turned his head away from the window, dragging his gaze from Charlie’s little blue Toyota. She hadn’t emerged from the gymnasium yet; when he’d left, she’d been talking to a couple of the other students.
He met Maddox Heller’s gaze. “I don’t know. She’s hard to read.”
“In what way?”
He thought about her reaction to being called to the front of the class that morning. “She can be shy. And then turn around and be assertive. But there was something that happened today—I’m not sure how to describe it.”
“Give it a shot.”
“I was demonstrating how quickly an assailant could strike. Partly as an example, but also because I wanted to know how she’d react. I expected her to fight.”
“And she didn’t?”
“No, she fought. But there was something about the way she did it. It was as if she was somewhere else. Seeing something else.”
Heller’s expression was thoughtful. “Post-traumatic stress?”
“Maybe. She was able to keep herself together enough to escape my grasp, though. And she did it pretty well. Bowled me over.”
“There wasn’t a lot in the background check other than what I told you. The sheriff’s department never liked her story that she could remember nothing. But I don’t know if that’s because of who she is. Or, more to the point, who her family is.”
“Who are they?”
“The Winters, according to my source with the local law, are one of those families that just spell trouble. Two of her brothers are in jail. Daddy died in a mining accident when they were young, and apparently Mama tried and failed to replace him with a series of men who all brought their own brand of trouble to the family.”
“Does Charlie have a record?”
“Nothing as an adult. If she had any record as a juvenile, it’s sealed.”
“I’ve moved her up to