It Started That Night

by Virna DePaul

  Tired, so tired, she closed her eyes. She listened to the wind’s lonely howl. All her childish fears of boogeymen and monsters under the bed welled up. If she died right now, no one would know. If she screamed, no one would hear.

  Why couldn’t anyone hear her?

  Biting her lip, she pulled her knees tighter to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, bending herself into a tight knot. She lost track of time. The world faded in and out, keeping time with her slow, shuddering breaths.

  “Why you crying, Lily?”

  Lily gasped and turned over, trying to scramble to the other end of the tube but painfully aware of her slow, awkward movements.

  Chris Hardesty, the homeless man she’d talked to off and on for the past few weeks, stared at her, his bewhiskered face and dingy tattered clothes barely visible as he crouched inside the opening nearest the park’s slide. Concern radiated from him, and she felt a simultaneous urge to hug him and push him away.

  No one had been more surprised than Lily when she’d befriended Hardesty, but the truth was she’d been the one to benefit most from their talks. The homeless man listened to her.

  He didn’t judge. Didn’t lecture. He simply helped her see things from all sides in a straightforward, honest way.

  Even things about John.

  “Come on out of there, Lily, so we can talk. You don’t want me to come in after you, do you? I’ll break my back trying to bend down that low.”

  Glancing at Hardesty, Lily swiped at her tears, sniffled, and smiled weakly. She crawled from the tube, wincing when the cement scraped her knees, and fell into Hardesty’s arms. She flinched back from the mild odor of alcohol and sweat clinging to him, but was too cold to protest. He placed his jacket around her shoulders. They sat in the grass by his shopping cart and held out his silver flask. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks,” she murmured.

  He took a long swallow, then wiped at his mouth with his sleeve. “So what happened? John leave early?”

  “He’s leaving tomorrow morning.”

  “Did he go off and do something stupid like marry that blond Amazon?”

  “No,” she whispered. She was so tired, she couldn’t even call up a smidgen of disgust at the mention of Stacy.

  “Well, then, how come you’re upset?”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it again. She remembered John’s warning that she couldn’t trust anyone, particularly this man. Even so, her body trembled with the need to share the load of her pain.

  Hardesty sighed, raised himself up on cracking knees, and dug through his shopping cart. He handed her a tall bottle of tequila, the kind her mother used to make margaritas, before sitting again. “It’s brand-new. You can check. Have a sip.”

  “No, I don’t—”

  He yawned. “It’ll warm you up and you can tell me what happened.” Lying back on the grass, he pulled the bill of his baseball cap down over his eyes.

  Lily stared at him, then at the bottle. She unscrewed the cap, took a long gulp, then coughed as she tried to catch her breath. “Nasty,” she whispered, but she took another sip because it made her feel warmer.

  Hardesty smiled, but otherwise didn’t move.

  After several more swigs, Lily confided, “I got into a fight with my mom. About John. She slapped me and I—I said I hated her.”

  “Hmm.”

  Frowning, Lily nudged Hardesty with her toe. “Is that all you’re going to say? Just last week you were going on and on about how I should respect my parents.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to respect someone who’s hurt you. And I imagine by going out with another man, she hurt you. Just like your father hurt you.” Lifting his ball cap, Hardesty momentarily sought Lily’s gaze. “Kids and parents fight. It’s always happened and it always will. I wish I had the chance to fight with my daughter. I’d want her to come back to me no matter what she said.”

  “So you think I should go back?”

  He dropped his cap over his eyes again. “I know you’ll go back, sweet Lily. It’s just a matter of what you’re going to do f-first.”

  Frowning because he was shivering, she stood and draped his jacket over him. “Thanks but you need this more than me.”

  “You going home?” he asked. “Or to see John?”

  “I—I’m not sure yet.” She rubbed her arms and stared off in the direction she’d come. Suddenly, all she wanted was to see John. Maybe he’d even take her home and wait with her, and they could talk to her mother together. She took several steps toward the park entrance, then stopped. She turned back to Hardesty, wanting to do something to repay his kindness.

  “Do you need anything, Chris?”

  He laughed and slowly got to his feet, put on his jacket, and rubbed his hands together. “I’m a little cold. A little hungry. If you have a few dollars tucked into that dress, I’d be much obliged.”

  More guilt. More regret. “I’m sorry, I don’t. I left my purse at home. But my mom’s probably gone and Ivy’s out with Aaron. I can go back and get you something. Maybe some food—”

  Hardesty shook his head. “That’s okay, sweet Lily. You’ll be rewarded for your kindness. Maybe not tonight, but someday. Right now, just hug someone you love. Whether it’s John or your mom or dad, hold on to someone who matters to you and don’t let go.”

  Hesitating briefly, she stepped forward and threw her arms around his waist. He startled and every muscle went stiff before he pulled away.

  Her arms dropped to her sides like lead. Rejected by a homeless guy. Great. What the hell was wrong with her?

  He shook his head. “Lily—”

  Smiling stiffly, she raised her hand. “Thanks, Chris,” she whispered as she backed away. “Take care.”

  * * *

  Lily jerked when something warm cupped her face. Caressed it. She gravitated toward the gentle touch even as the pain inside her became almost unbearable.

  “Lily, look at me.”

  Lily opened her eyes. John knelt beside her, his face creased with worry. Brian was gone.

  “Where—?” she whispered.

  “I asked Brian to give us some privacy. He was almost done anyway. Are you all right?”

  Pain coursed through her. For the first time, she wondered whether she had the strength to survive. If she wanted to. “I—I think I remembered something.”

  Taking her hands, he squeezed them. “Was it something bad?”

  She nodded.

  “Will you tell me?”

  Without humor, she laughed. “I have to, don’t I? I’m still hooked up to this stupid thing.”

  Unblinking, John immediately began to remove the cuffs and tubes that Brian had placed on her. Lily stiffened with confusion.

  “John—?”

  He kissed her. Swooped up and took her mouth with his tongue. Soft and slick. Hard and nimble. He moved his tongue in and out of her mouth, as if savoring every bit of sensation. She clutched at him, whimpering when he pulled away and leaned his forward against hers. Gripping her hair, he gently forced her head back to stare into her eyes.

  “Will you trust me, Lily? Please?”

  Brokenly, she said, “I think I talked to Hardesty that night.”

  She was watching him carefully, but John barely reacted to her statement. He stood and sat back down in his chair. “Okay. So you talked to him when? Before or after we saw each other at the party?”

  “Before,” she whispered.

  “At the park?”

  She nodded. “He was lying in the grass. With his shopping cart nearby.”

  “And then what?”

  “I told him I’d fought with my mother. About you.”

  He listened to the rest. The only time his expression changed was when she told him about the tequila. Even then, only his jaw clenched.

  “You said he mentioned his daughter. Had you talked about his daughter before?”

  She nodded. “He said she was living with relatives.”

  “Then what happened?”


  She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Grief and guilt flooded her. Her body trembled, and although John frowned, he didn’t comfort her. Didn’t reach out to her. She pushed herself to continue. “I—I asked him how he was. If he needed anything.”

  “You’d given him money before?”

  “Yes.” She gripped the edge of the table. “I told him I didn’t have my purse.” She looked away, knowing she wouldn’t be able to continue if she had to look at him. “That all my money was at home. But—but that my mom was leaving soon and I’d go back later and get some for him.”

  Her breathing was coming so fast now she could barely talk. She looked at him, saw understanding on his features, and felt her shame intensify. “He smiled. And thanked me. And said I’d—I’d, oh God, be rewarded for my kindness.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “It’s all my fault. I practically drew him a map to her. She died thinking I hated her. And it’s all my fault.”

  * * *

  Stunned, John stared at her.

  She leaped to her feet and he tensed, prepared to grab her if she tried to run. Instead, she walked a few feet away and turned her back to face a bookshelf buried in paperwork and old tape recorders.

  Unfortunately, her reasoning made sense. What she’d said to Hardesty solidified his motive and opportunity to break into her house. But that was his doing, not hers, damn it.

  “You’re sure this is a memory? Not something else? Not your guilt playing tricks on you?”

  She shuddered. “Believe me, I’ve lived with guilt all these years. I know the difference.”

  Even secondhand, her pain pierced him. He rose from his seat and rushed around the table. “Listen to me. You were upset. Trying to be compassionate. You couldn’t have known what would happen.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. She gasped and whirled around. “It’s not your fault, small fry.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said dully. “It gave him a reason to go to my house. While my mom was alone. Defenseless.”

  His gaze didn’t waver from hers. “Every house in the neighborhood had money in it. Valuables. If he decided to break into your house, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t tell him where you lived. You didn’t draw him a map.”

  She frowned. “I know, but—”

  “There is no but, Lily. You were nice to him, that’s all. Your mother would have been proud of you.”

  “My mother would have chewed me out for being so stupid. She was already so mad at me—”

  With both hands on her shoulders, he gave her a gentle shake. “She loved you. She knew you loved her. She didn’t believe you hated her. Not for one second.”

  She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. “You can’t know that,” she choked out.

  “Of course I can. Because she told me.”

  She jerked back as if he’d struck her. “What?”

  He dropped his hands. “After you fought, she came to my house looking for you.”

  “You’re lying,” she whispered.

  “No. I’m not. When you didn’t return, she came to see me. She said she loved you. You were going through a hard time. And she asked me to stay away from you.”

  “You’re lying!” She shoved him in the chest. He took one step back but didn’t try to block the next shove. She hit him. She even tried biting him. And not once did he lift a hand to stop her. If it would make her feel better, he’d gladly turn himself into a human punching bag. Over and over again, she pounded her anger on him.

  Eventually, she tired and stepped away. “Don’t try to protect me,” she whispered. “Please.” She brushed her hand across her face and stared at her fingertips. She seemed stunned to see proof she was crying.

  “That’s why I kissed Stacy,” he confessed. “Not because I wanted to hurt you. But because I knew, just like your mother did, we couldn’t be together.”

  He lowered his face slowly, then kissed her forehead, just like he’d used to do when she was a kid. “It wasn’t your fault. We don’t know how many houses he went to before picking yours. Your mother loved you. It wasn’t your fault.”

  She backed up until her back hit the door. He moved close and pulled her into his arms, undeterred by the stiffness of her body.

  He stroked her hair. Murmured it again and again. “It wasn’t your fault.” He kissed her temple. “It wasn’t your fault,” he crooned.

  Slowly, she relaxed and leaned against him. Although she didn’t make a sound, a river of silent tears streamed down her face. “It’s going to be okay, small fry.”

  She pulled back to look at him, and his gaze shifted to her lips. His pulse sped up and he wanted to kiss her. To caress her. To make her forget her grief and think of nothing but pleasure. He lowered his head slowly, giving her time to back away. She didn’t. She gripped his sides, pulling him close. Closing her eyes.

  “Lily,” he whispered before taking her mouth gently. More gently than he’d ever kissed a woman.

  Chapter 14

  Three days after Lily’s polygraph, John arrived at San Quentin Prison to interview Hardesty. He’d spent the time searching for a connection between the cases, but there wasn’t any physical evidence or links. Still, something nagged at him. He’d never been more desperate or fearful of finding out the truth. If Chris Hardesty had indeed killed Tina, Lily would never forgive herself for her careless words. If he hadn’t killed her, then all the evidence pointed to Lily’s father. And also made him their number one suspect in The Razor cases. Either one of those things would destroy Lily and jeopardize the fragile bond they’d begun to form.

  John got out of his car and trudged up the cement incline to the main gate. It wasn’t the first time he’d been to San Quentin. Still, as John passed the prison “gift shop,” he marveled at the prison’s million-dollar, ocean-view location. He took a deep breath of cool ocean air before being led inside to check in.

  As the guard led him through the steel barred gate, he thought once more of Lily. When Brian had returned and told them the inconclusive test results, she’d been disappointed, but also offended by his suggestion that she was hiding something.

  “I’m not saying it’s deliberate, Lily,” Brian said. “We can’t know how much your memory loss affects things. But before you had your flash of memory, before you stumbled on the question about Hardesty, you hesitated in answering a different question. The machine picked up on that and assumed you were keeping a secret.”

  “What question?” Lily had asked.

  Brian had looked at John, who’d drafted the questions himself. “Number 11.”

  John hadn’t been surprised. He’d seen her hesitation himself. As Brian left, John explained, “It was the question ‘Do you suspect anyone other than Chris Hardesty of murdering your mother?’” Her eyes had immediately gone blank and she hadn’t said a word. Not until he’d said he was going to see Hardesty.

  Eyes wide, she’d said, “I want to come with you.”

  Stunned, he shook his head. “No.”

  “Why not? He’s been wanting to talk to me for years.”

  “He’s trying to prove he’s innocent, Lily. He’s playing you. Besides, you’ve just told me new information. Evidence that I need to turn over as part of my investigation.”

  She paled. “Am I going to be in trouble?”

  Warming her arms with his hands, he shook his head. “No. But some people will doubt you. Given other evidence I’ve seen, they’ll—they’ll think you’re trying to protect your father. And if you try to see Hardesty, it will look even worse. Like you’re trying to manipulate the facts. Trying to manipulate me. Everything will become more complicated and our past will become an issue for sure. Do you understand?”

  Very slowly, she nodded, but she bit her lip, obviously still distressed.

  He pulled her into his arms. “Trust me, Lily. We’ll get through this. Just trust me.”

  Despite his plea, he wasn’t sure she did. She’d refused his offer to drive her home, saying she needed time alon
e. Although it was the last thing he’d wanted, what else could he do other than get all caveman on her?

  For a second, the word caveman made him uneasy. Then he realized why. Mason Park. He’d catered to Tina’s independence because he hadn’t wanted to come off as a caveman. She’d died because of it.

  The guard led him into the visitor’s area. He froze when he saw the woman sitting several feet away in a plastic blue chair. Disbelief. Confusion. Concern. Anger. The emotions rattled into him one by one, building until the pressure forced the breath from his lungs. By the guilty look on Lily’s face, she knew she only had a second or two before he exploded.

  She jumped out of her chair and held out a hand, as if she could actually make things right. “I just want to look him in the eye. I won’t say a word.”

  He clenched his teeth so hard he could practically feel a layer of porcelain grind off. “What the hell is she doing here?”

  The guard shrugged. “She’s been cleared for contact visitation. We had her all set to visit with Hardesty in East Block, but then she got nervous. Was going to leave. But then she heard you were coming and decided to wait for you. He eyed Lily. “Is there a problem?”

  John glanced around him like an idiot, part of him wondering if he was in a dream. But no, aside from a rosy-cheeked toddler with red curls playing in a small alcove, everything he saw assured him that he and Lily were indeed standing in the bowels of San Quentin prison. He turned back to the guard. “I need to talk to her. Alone.”

  After glancing at the badge pinned to John’s shirt, the guard jerked his chin. “You can use the conference room. Hardesty’s attorneys aren’t here yet. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

  John let Lily walk in before him and then practically slammed the door shut. “What—” He closed his eyes when his voice came out harsher than he intended. Gentle. Don’t lose it. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

  Her eyes widened and he felt a small thrum of satisfaction. Good. Let her be scared. He’d told her what people would think if she visited Hardesty. That she’d only make things worse for everyone—not only the two of them, but her father.