by Virna DePaul
“Daddy—” she whispered.
He glanced at her. “Listen to me. Your mom called hours ago. Worried out of her mind. You’ve been drinking. Your mother said you fought. Something about a party. That’s where you were, right?”
Lily didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Her head throbbed and the world spun. She tried to understand what he was saying, but couldn’t.
“Answer me, Lily. You ran away. You went to the party. You’ve been drinking this whole time. Haven’t you?” His voice rose in frustration and he pounded the steering wheel with his fist. “God damn it, answer me!”
His anger jolted her and a small trickle of memory flowed through her. Again, she tried to speak, but the words, like a tooth reluctant to be extracted, stayed there.
Yes. We fought. I went to the party. I drank.
She closed her eyes, hoping that the darkness would help her think. Would stop the confusing swirl of colors in her head. But darkness didn’t come, and the colors only seemed to glow more brightly. Something touched her arm. Her eyes flew open and she flinched.
Her father pulled back his hand, frowning as she cowered against the door. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly. “I called your mother and—” He closed his eyes, seeming to steady himself. “Just do as I say. We’ll be okay.”
Her mother. He said she’d fought with her mother. Lily tried to remember, but her mind was a vast blackness, filled with nothing but pain and hazy faces. Her father stopped the car, and she stared at the house.
At the rosebushes her mother tended so faithfully once, but had started to droop with her recent neglect.
She whimpered. She didn’t want to go inside, but the thought of staying outside frightened her even more.
Her father got out and walked around to open her door. He grasped her elbow and gently pulled her out. “We need to go inside now.”
She resisted, pulling back. Her father overpowered her, inexorably dragging her to the house.
“Everything okay, Doug?” someone called, making Lily jerk. The man in the window next door looked familiar, but she struggled to remember his name. Tabman?
Her father turned to him. “Lily’s been partying. Tina asked me to bring her home. Sorry if we woke you.”
The man waved and closed his bedroom window. Taking a deep breath, her father unlocked the door. It opened silently and bumped softly against the wall.
“Tina,” her father yelled. “I found her.” He flipped on the light and stopped. “What the hell?”
Lily followed her father’s gaze. Her heart beat faster, growing in size until it filled her throat, cutting off her breath. There was dirt on the carpeting. On the walls.
She whimpered “Mama?” and moved forward.
Her father grabbed at her.
She dodged his grip and rushed toward her mother’s bedroom. “Mama, where are you?”
Lily ran down the carpeted hallway, her gait unwieldy, as if her soles were sticking to the carpet each time she tried to take another step. She tripped but clawed her way back up and kept moving forward.
“Lily, stop, come back here.”
She made it to the bedroom door. A smudge on the wall. Blood. She could smell it, like rusty metal mixed with rotting mushrooms. She could feel it, staining her hands and feet in a thin viscous layer. Her mother. Where was she?
There. On the bed. Silent. Knees bent. She staggered closer, needing to know for sure.
“Mama?” she whimpered, reaching out her hand; it shook so hard she could feel the vibrations coursing through her. But there was no response.
“Lily! Don’t. Come here, baby. Please.”
She looked at her father, standing just inside the room, then back at her mother. Her eyes were closed. The parts of her face that weren’t covered with blood were pale and waxy. Lily reached for her hand and flinched at how cold it felt. Stiff. Like brittle wood that would break in half with the smallest amount of pressure.
Lily’s stomach heaved and she turned away, throwing up on the carpet. She whimpered and collapsed to her knees, covering her face with her hands.
Her mind tunneled into a tiny pinpoint of light.
Suddenly, all she cared about was reaching that light in the distance. She raced toward it in her mind. Fleeing reality. Fleeing betrayal. Fleeing anger and shame and blood and tears. The faster she ran, the dimmer the light became. Until it flickered out altogether, and she was running in the dark.
* * *
Lily still hadn’t arrived at Ivy’s house. The officers from Sacramento PD said a team had been sent over to get her, but after talking to her had left. “That doesn’t make sense,” John insisted. “I told them she needed protection. They were supposed to escort her to her sister’s house, in case her niece showed up. Damn it, check again.”
The rattled clerk checked her computer. “It’s right here. It says here that Officers Cooper and Lennox went by to question her about the Hardesty case. They’re on their way back, but they had no reason to bring her in. They didn’t have a warrant.”
Thumping his fist on the counter separating them, John cursed. “Where’s the lieutenant in charge?” The clerk pointed to a man behind her and John immediately told him his concerns.
The portly man with thinning hair didn’t know what to say. “Look, someone’s got their wires crossed. You’ve got my guys trying to protect the same woman the D.A. wants to question about the murder of her mother. If there’s some kind of mix-up, you need to talk to Morton Howe.”
“Tell me where I can find Mr. Howe now.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The voice came from behind John. “I’m going to see Howe myself in a few minutes.”
John turned and saw Thorn. The other man looked ready to collapse. Even worse than before. So unlike himself. He hadn’t been quite himself for a while now. It had started with the breakup with Carmen. Continued with surliness and an almost obsessive need to confirm Hardesty’s guilt. And after repeatedly telling John why he didn’t want to allow DNA testing in the Tina Cantrell case, he’d gone ahead and ordered the tests himself. Why?
“I need to talk to you, John.”
“I need to talk to you, too. I want to know why you ordered the DNA testing on your own when you’d been determined to avoid that very thing from happening for so long.”
Thorn shrugged. “It’s ironic really. I wanted you to confirm Hardesty was the guilty party. That the execution would be righteous. I thought you’d be the perfect person to do that. But your updates. Your theories. They were leading to the opposite conclusion. I couldn’t ignore them, John. I wanted to. Believe me, I wanted to go on believing that this was all going to end when he was executed.”
“What are you talking about? That what was going to end?”
“I—I needed to know the truth no matter what the D.A. said—”
John narrowed his eyes. “What?”
Thorn just shook his head. Then he said softly, “Carmen’s pregnant.”
Shock came first. Then something close to pity. John could see the yearning in Thorn’s eyes. And the defeat.
“This is all my fault, John.”
Somehow, John knew Thorn wasn’t just talking about the pregnancy. “What’s your fault?”
“It’s a double-edged sword, isn’t it? By helping people, we get to feel a little bit better about ourselves. But what do we do when we lose? What are we left with when we try our best and it’s still not good enough? What are we left with when we don’t even try our best?”
When Thorn opened his eyes, they were so bleak John winced. “You can get help, Thorn. Check into a program. I can’t say for sure, but she might stick by you.”
Thorn’s eyes widened.
John shrugged. “I had a suspicion you were taking drugs, but—”
Thorn laughed. “Yeah. But I just gave myself away. What a putz. Howe would laugh his ass off.”
The air left John’s lungs. “D.A. Morton Howe? What’s he got to do with this?”
Thor
n slouched down in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Everything. He’s—he’s behind all this, John. He’s why I asked you to look into Tina’s case. Because it had to be done, but we wanted it done by someone with incentive to close the investigation fast. Someone who wouldn’t want things to drag on for the Cantrell family.”
“You said ‘we.’ We as in you and Howe? You’re working together to make sure Hardesty’s conviction sticks? No matter what? Why?”
“I—I was burned out at work. Started using to get me through the day. Thought I’d be able to control it, but I couldn’t. It got out of hand but then I managed to stop. That was three years ago, right around the time I got Chris Hardesty’s appeal. I was concerned how fast he was tried and convicted. I started asking Howe questions. Too many questions. He told me to back off. When I didn’t, he said he knew I’d been doing drugs and would ruin me. So I let it go. I started dating Carmen. I was so happy. But then with each Razor murder, my doubts came back. I started using again. Broke up with Carmen because of it. I wanted it all to go away but it wouldn’t. Then Howe called me. Told me to find someone who would nail Chris Hardesty to the wall once and for all.”
Disbelief and hurt came first. “And you picked me. Then what?”
When Thorn simply stared at the ground, John almost went for him. It would feel good to take out his rage on someone. Thorn, however, didn’t look like he’d last more than one punch. He was pale. Skinny. About to pass out from self-disgust.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough, but I am.”
John didn’t say anything. What could he say? He couldn’t accept that apology. Not now. Maybe not ever. “What’s Howe hiding?”
Thorn shrugged. “Nothing that horrible. I think he really believed Hardesty did it. Because of that, he played things sloppy. Ignored things he shouldn’t have. Rushed to get a conviction. Nothing criminal at the time, but once he became D.A., he didn’t want anything to come out that could possibly ruin his chances for reelection.”
Thorn held out a thick manila envelope. “Take this. It’s my signed declaration. Detailing everything with Howe. I don’t know if anyone will believe me, but at least you’ll have it. I also included my file on The Razor cases. No matter what happens with the Cantrell investigation, you might be able to use it.”
He started to turn away, but stopped. “I—I messed things up, but I love Carmen, John. Tell her that. Tell her I would have loved the baby, too.”
His words sent a shiver up John’s spine. Thorn sounded defeated. Desperate. John didn’t know what Thorn was planning to do, but Carmen would never forgive John if anything happened to him. “Thorn, listen to me—”
His cell phone rang. With relief, he saw it was Lily’s home phone number. “Thorn, I need to get this—”
Looking up, John cursed.
Thorn was gone.
John brought the phone to his ear. “Lily?”
He heard static. Then long, shuddering gasps for breath. Words rushed him, too fast to understand. “Shh. Slow down, baby. Are you safe? Where are you?”
“Did you—have you found Ashley?” she finally managed to ask.
“Not yet. We’re still working on it. But I told you, I’ll find her.” He walked from room to room, scanning the station for Thorn. “Are you okay? There are officers waiting at Ivy’s house. Why haven’t you—”
“I’m going to the hospital. My sister needs me. Is my father there?”
He paused. He had to tell her, but he couldn’t do it on the phone. He needed to look in her eyes. He needed to be able to hold her. “Your father is with me.” It wasn’t a lie, he told himself. And if it was, she’d understand. After he explained, she’d understand.
“Okay. I’ll see you later.” As if she’d flipped a switch, her tone was suddenly devoid of warmth or emotion or grief.
“What’s wrong?”
“Two officers came by my house. They wanted to bring me down to the station so I could answer some questions. I told them I wasn’t talking to them without an arrest warrant or a lawyer.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“John—” For a moment, a pleading tone entered her voice.
“What is it, small fry?”
“Tell me again. Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” he said instantly. “Do you? Love me?”
She didn’t speak for several long seconds. Then she whispered, “I’ve always loved you,” before hanging up.
Despite her declaration of love, an uneasy feeling sat on his chest. He needed to get to her. He needed to explain. But what about Thorn? Carmen? Ashley? Lily was his priority, but so was everyone she loved, including her father.
John slapped the envelope that Thorn had given him against his thigh, then opened it up. He took out Thorn’s declaration. Grimly, he read all the details, including the fact that Thorn had honestly thought Hardesty was guilty. That was why he’d felt okay about assigning John to the case. He shoved the declaration back into the envelope, cursing when it tangled with other papers inside. He yanked one out, and several photographs spilled to the floor.
They were all gruesome, but one in particular caught his eye. It was a color photograph of Sandy LaMonte’s body. Thorn had circled a portion of the photograph in red—the section showing a chain around her throat.
A fragile silver chain.
Memory tinged at the back of John’s mind. Something about The Razor’s victims. How he hadn’t messed with their purses or taken their jewelry. How their jewelry had run the gamut from earrings to bracelets to necklaces, and how each had a mix of stones. But there had also been something else. Something similar…
Murdoch had mentioned a chain, too, hadn’t he? A chain found near Candace Evans’s body?
John flipped through the rest of the pictures, but the gems were either too small or the photos too grainy to provide any details. He searched some more and pulled out the reports. The property logs. One of the victims had a bracelet with several blue stones. The female officer had identified them as aquamarines. Another had on earrings. Aquamarines. And Sandy LaMonte had worn an ankle bracelet he hadn’t seen. Pearls and aquamarines.
John’s heart pounded.
Different types of jewelry. Different stones mixed in with the aquamarines. It probably meant absolutely nothing.
He picked up the phone and called Murdoch.
“Murdoch, this is John Tyler.”
“John—I was about to call you. Candace Evans is awake.”
“Does she know her attacker?”
“Can’t say. She’s still pretty out of it. Can barely talk.”
“You said you found a chain. A silver chain. Did it have gems on it?”
“Wait a sec. Let me check. The necklace you’re talking about had stones...hell, I don’t know, what they are. But they were blue. Light blue.”
“Aquamarines?”
Murdoch laughed nervously. “I don’t know. Could be.”
“There’s our connection. All the jewelry found on your vics have blue aquamarine stones. Not exclusively. But it’s there.”
“You’re kidding. Let me check.” A few seconds passed and Murdoch put John on hold. But he came back almost immediately, this time sounding much more grim. “You’re right.”
“Did next of kin identify the jewelry?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes not. I mean, would you be able to identify every piece of jewelry your girlfriend has?”
John thought of Lily. Other than her mother’s necklace, he couldn’t say what kind of jewelry she wore. But her mother’s necklace had... Realization hit him and he gasped.
“What?” Murdoch asked.
“The necklace. Lily’s necklace. The one Tina was wearing when she was killed. It has aquamarine stones on it. Because it’s Lily’s birthstone.”
* * *
Less than ten minutes later, John rushed into Ivy’s hospital room. He immediately saw Lily, sitting on the bed and curled next to Ivy, who looked alert but strained. Aaron sat n
ext to her, but stood when he saw John.
“Have you found—?”
John shook his head. “Not yet. But we have some leads.” He shifted his gaze to Lily, who stared at him impassively. She knows, he thought. She knows and she hates me.
He shifted his gaze to Ivy, then back to her. “There’s something I need to tell you all.” He squatted in front of Lily and gripped her hands. “Something I’ve learned about—”
She ripped away and stood. “So it’s true. That police officer was right.”
“Lily?” Ivy stirred, clearly frightened. “What’s going on?”
Aaron went to her, but Lily held John’s gaze. “He arrested Dad.” Despite her anger, her pain was even more obvious.
John reached for her, but she backed away. “No, Lily, technically he—”
“Don’t talk technicalities to me. Take me to him.”
“I can’t. He doesn’t want to see you yet.”
“Why would he say that?”
“He’s ashamed. He confessed, Lily—”
“Get out.”
“If you’ll just listen to me,” he said, his voice rising to be heard over hers.
“Why’d you really contact me, John? Was it just for old times? An easy lay, no matter the damage you leave behind. You’re just as bad as Hardesty, aren’t you? Just as bad as the murdering slime who killed my mother.”
He willed his face to appear blank, but couldn’t stop his heart from bleeding. “Is that what you really believe?”
They stared at each other, but she didn’t respond.
“Well, you might be right, Lily. But here’s the way it’s going to work. You hate my guts, I understand that. But right now you need me. Right now, we need to find Ashley.”
Chapter 18
Ashley had been missing for over twenty-four hours.
Those hours had come and gone in a blur, weighing Lily down with worry and pain and misery until she felt on the verge of collapse.
This might be the final straw, she thought vaguely. How much more could she be expected to take?
