It Started That Night

by Virna DePaul

  His breath caught. She gazed at him with her heart in her eyes and for a moment insecurity flooded him.

  She was too good, he thought. Too good for me.

  The thought shattered when she sat up and the sheet fell, leaving her soft skin bare. He couldn’t resist reaching out and cupping one small breast, kneading it gently before moving to the other. Then he reached up and caught her mother’s pendant in his fingers. He stared at it. Reminded himself once more she was safe.

  He leaned in and gave her a kiss. “I’ve gotta go.”

  She frowned and pouted. “What? I thought you were waking me for a reason.”

  He laughed. “I am.” He kissed her soundly on the lips. “I wanted to kiss you goodbye.” He moved back in and kissed her again, this time opening her mouth and pressing his tongue against hers. He groaned when she pulled him closer and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. Heat shuddered through him, making him hard so fast his head spun. A second later, however, his chest tightened and he pulled away.

  He captured her hands and laughed. Even to him, it sounded forced. Uncomfortable. “Enough of that, you. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

  She stared at him with solemn eyes. “John—”

  Clearing his throat, he rose. “I promise, babe. Hold that thought. Let me get through this first, okay?”

  She pulled the sheet up and covered herself, holding it in place by leaning her chest against her bent knees. “You don’t have to go.”

  He stopped and turned back to her. “Yeah. I do. I need to see Park again, just like you need to visit Hardesty. It’s going to be hard, but we’ll be okay. Because we have each other.”

  She smiled, grabbed his palm, and kissed it. “I talked to Fiona’s foster parents yesterday. She has a new kitten. She wants me to see it.”

  He soaked in the beauty of her happiness, not surprised that his own chest felt lighter. “I’m glad.”

  “You’ll come with me, won’t you? To see it? To see her? Fiona would like it, too. She took a definite liking to you.”

  He kissed her palm this time, overwhelmed by her faith in him. “I can’t wait.”

  When he got to his car, he hesitated. Thought about going back to her. Did he really need to watch Park’s interrogation? If Lily could leave him to the criminal justice system, why couldn’t he?

  He turned on the engine, already knowing the answer.

  Because something had changed in him that night. Something had reverted to a dark, ugly place that he thought he’d long ago left behind. He questioned himself now. Every time he touched Lily. Every time he thought of a future with her.

  And that was not acceptable.

  * * *

  John watched Mason Park lean back in his chair and talk to Detective Bolin as if was chatting with a friend at a coffee shop. “She broke up with me. Told me she needed to concentrate on her family. I—I was desperate. I went to the house to talk to her, but she wasn’t there.”

  “Is that when you decided to go into the girl’s room?” Detective Bolin asked him. “Why?”

  Park ignored Bolin and stared through the one-way mirror as if he knew someone else was there. As if he knew it was John.

  “I’d seen her and Tina working out together. Before we started dating. She used to wear these skimpy shorts and thin T-shirt.” Even as they watched, Park’s earnest face transformed. Sweat popped out on his forehead and he licked his lips. He smirked. “I could see her little breasts through it. So sweet. Less than a handful, right John?”

  Officer Newton shifted next to John, his rustling clothes grating like fingernails on a chalkboard. John braced his arms above the mirror paneling and gritted his teeth. The transformation was sickening. Park seemed to be Jekyll and Hyde. During half of Bolin’s interview, he was the man John had interviewed at his house—the man with a steady job, a family, a conscience. But in a blink of an eye, depending on who and what Bolin asked him about, he would change, revealing the beast within.

  John could see it. A jury would see it, too. Which meant he’d probably cop a plea. Guilty by reason of insanity. And unlike most defendants, he’d probably be successful.

  For a moment, John wished he still had Park under him. And that he hadn’t stopped hitting him until he was dead.

  That thought horrified him more than even Park’s dual personality.

  “So it was her you really wanted?”

  Park frowned at the detective’s question, then looked confused. He shook his head. “No. She was a child. I knew that. But they were the same in my eyes. I loved them both. Wanted them both. When Tina broke it off, I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing either of them again.” Park’s voice broke into the petulant, cloying whine of a child. His gaze focused once more on the glass hiding John from view. “I knew I’d get another lover. That had never been hard. All I wanted was something to remember them by.”

  “So you stopped by her house. But only after what? Buying a bogus movie ticket you had no intention of using?”

  Park smirked but didn’t answer.

  “You wanted a pair of the girl’s underwear.”

  Caressing one of his manacled fists as if he was imagining caressing the white cotton he’d taken from Lily’s room, Park nodded.

  “And then what?” the detective asked him.

  Park’s glassy-eyed stare as he remembered the past made John shiver. “Then Tina came in. She came at me like a berserker. I tried to leave, but she followed me down the stairs. She grabbed a knife and went after me.” He smiled thinly. “I was just defending myself.”

  The detective snorted. “Uh-huh. Against someone who was half your size. Is that why you stabbed her over twenty times? To protect yourself? And then what? Did you prey on other young girls?”

  “I traveled a lot with my job. Had my pick of women. I—I picked girls who looked young and if I was tempted by others, I stayed away from them. Tina taught me that lesson.”

  “But then what happened? Your own daughter was growing. What, did she have less than a handful, too?”

  Park’s back snapped straight and his face contorted with anger. “Shut your filthy mouth about her.”

  “This guy’s whacked,” Officer Newton said to John. “They’re never going to convict him.”

  John closed his eyes. Park never mentioned his daughter by name, but Candace Evans had told them enough of what he’d said to her for them to piece together the puzzle. Just as Park had been shamed by his sexual fixation with Lily, and had chosen to date her mother to fulfill it, he’d likewise been horrified when he’d found himself becoming sexually attracted to his own daughter. The Razor’s first murder had occurred around the time when Tess would have been developing. In a sick way, Park had started killing in order to protect his daughter, thinking that if he reenacted Tina’s murder, it would once more give him the strength to quash his impulses. To some extent, he viewed the murders as the lesser of two evils.

  In the interrogation room, Bolin stood. “I need to make a call,” he said, his voice laced with disgust. He slammed the door shut behind him.

  John remained where he was, watching Park closely. Trying not to think about the faces of Park’s wife and children as they played in their spacious backyard.

  Park breathed heavily in the silence. Then he smiled again. “You know exactly when I focused on her again, right? After you came to my house.” He turned to stare at the one-way mirror again, leaving no doubt he was addressing John directly even though he hadn’t said his name again. “I was happy with the others until then. But then I knew they weren’t enough. I needed her. Her mother’s death had eased the heat for a while, and now it was Lily’s turn. You showed me that. I thought Ashley might do, but while she was sweet, I wanted the real thing. Substitutes no more.”

  “I think you should leave, John.”

  John ignored Newton, even as he struggled with guilt. He’d already figured out he’d led Park to Lily. When they’d found the apartment in El Dorado he rented und
er a different name, they’d also found his shrine of photographs in one of the rooms—photographs of Lily and girls that looked like Lily. LaMonte and the other girls were there, clearly linking Park to their murders.

  With no one in the room to respond to Park’s taunting words, he seemed to lose it. He struggled against his restraints, rattling his chains against the metal chair and table. “She tried to save her mother, you know. She even tried to bite me, but she was so out of it she ended up biting Tina instead. I could’ve had her then. The blood, the power. It was such a rush. I didn’t want to fight it. Not anymore. If Hardesty hadn’t shown up—”

  The door to the interrogation room opened, and Detective Bolin walked in. “Who are you talking to?”

  Park ignored him, his eyes never leaving the two-way mirror.

  “You think I’m a monster, but how different are you? Tina told me about you and your obsession with Lily. Even after fifteen years you couldn’t stay away from her. You’re just like me, only you can’t admit it. You like the young and helpless, too.”

  John swallowed the bile rising in his throat, acutely aware Newton was staring at him.

  “Do you hear me? Talk to me, you bastard. Come in here and face me.”

  John straightened, turned and walked out of the room. As soon as he was in the hallway and could no longer hear Park’s words, he leaned against the wall outside, and tried to breathe. His heart thundered in his chest and nausea turned his stomach.

  He knew they were nothing alike. He used his strength to protect and to pleasure, not hurt. But still, words from the past echoed in his mind.

  Rapist. Pervert. Druggie. Punk.

  They stayed with him, louder than they’d ever been, until John finally straightened and headed outside.

  * * *

  Later that night, John woke to the fragrance of Lily. It was all around him. On his skin. Inside him.

  He felt the light press of her hands on his shoulders and the soft caress of her hair and lips against his face. Groaning, he arched up to meet her, capturing her lips with tender care. He raised his hands to bracket her waist, then lifted her up and then down until she settled onto him with a wet, heated grip. She started an easy rhythm. Deliberately, he forced his hands to his sides. His fingers gripped the bedsheets tightly.

  Her cool hands left his shoulders, causing her body to sink more fully onto him. Frantically, he clawed at the mattress and sheets, trying to control the urge to grip her hips and pound into her.

  Gentle, he thought. Be gentle.

  “…gentle. I love it when you’re gentle, John.” Lily’s hands framed his face, and she kissed him again, a long melding of mouths and tongues. “Be gentle sometimes,” she said as she pulled away, “but not all the time.” She raised herself up and off him.

  “No,” he gritted out, barely restraining himself from hauling her back. Throwing one arm over his eyes, he took several deep breaths. He felt her lie next to him. He hissed and dropped his arm, turning to look at her.

  She slowly lifted her arms above her head and spread her limbs wide, spreading herself out like a feast for the taking. “Take me, John.”

  John swallowed, wanting her so much he hurt, but all he could think about was Park’s accusation. That John was like him. That he liked to dominate Lily because she was small. Vulnerable. He shook his head, “Lily...”

  “Don’t hold back with me. Don’t let him do that to us. I want you, John. All of you.” When he still didn’t move, she touched his chest with her hand, and implored, “Please.”

  With a tortured groan, he surrendered. He released the sheets, rolled and moved on top of her. He pinned her wrists down, and pushed apart her thighs. He paused, shaking, wanting to let go, wanting things to be the same between them, but not sure if they ever could.

  She smiled up at him and whispered words of love. Words of sex. She told him how she’d always wanted him. How she’d always want him. And without another thought, John pushed forward.

  Into Lily.

  She’d loved him before any other man had touched her. And even though he hadn’t been her first, he’d be her last.

  Minutes later, when their skin was cooling and their shouts still rang in his ears, Lily lifted herself on one elbow and stared down at him. She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it, then sucked and bit down gently on his thumb. His hips arched up and she reached down to grip him, smiling when she found him already hardening.

  “I love what you do to me. I love that you don’t treat me like glass. I won’t break and neither will you. Nothing we do together, to one another, out of love could be wrong.”

  He felt overcome by the faith she had in him. Realized what a fool he’d been. He took her hand, brought it to his mouth with the intention of biting her thumb, just like she’d done to him. Instead, he kissed it. Over and over again.

  Then he moved down the rest of her. And he didn’t stop until he’d purged Mason Park from both their minds.

  * * *

  John walked out of the interrogation room feeling more tired than he’d ever been in his life. Thorn was still inside, finishing his statement to Michael Colbane, the Chief Deputy Attorney General who would decide when and how to bring charges up against ex-District Attorney Howe. Despite the shame that had sometimes caused his words to falter, Thorn had been clear-eyed and steady, resolute in his decision to bring his own drug problems and Howe’s deception to light. The whole time, Carmen had sat by his side, touching him and sharing her strength.

  “John.”

  Sighing with relief, John held out his arms. Lily instantly stepped into them. He hugged her desperately and she gasped, almost as if she couldn’t breathe. He loosened his grip and tried to back away, but she shook her head and hung on. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “We’re going to be okay.”

  They stayed in that position for several long moments before John pulled back. “Nothing’s going to happen for a few days. What do you say we go home?”

  She looked up at him with a smile. “Home? And where would that be, exactly?” They’d been splitting their time between both places. Weekends at his place. The week at hers.

  John shrugged and pushed back her hair. “Your home. My home. You pick. It doesn’t matter to me. We’ll be married soon anyway. Home is you, not which house we sleep in.”

  She didn’t look surprised. She looked pleased. She sounded happy. “Is that right? You’re going to make an honest woman out of me? Drag me to the altar, kicking and screaming?”

  He reached up and gripped her chin, even though she was still staring him in the eye. “If that’s what it takes.” John held his breath. “You okay with that?”

  She nodded. “More than okay,” she whispered.

  They turned together, ready to leave. The door opened behind them. Thorn and Carmen stepped out. Thorn looked drained, like he had nothing left inside him. Until Carmen placed her hand on Thorn’s arm. He straightened just as John held out his hand. Thorn looked at it blankly before taking it. As they stared at each other, John knew Thorn saw the friendship, even if he was still having to work on forgiveness.

  As Carmen and Thorn walked away, John turned to Lily and saw the certainty and love shining in her eyes.

  “I love you,” she said.

  He reached out and pulled her close. “I love you, too, small fry.”

  She smiled, accepting it as truth. Even after everything she’d been through. All the ways he’d hurt her. Even after that horrible night fifteen years ago, when he’d pushed her away and, in hurting her, had become associated with one of the worst moments of her life—losing her mother. Even after that… Even then…

  She loved him.

  She knew she was loved by him.

  And that was the greatest blessing of all.

  * * * * *

  ISBN: 9781459227583

  Copyright © 2012 by Virna DePaul

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