That Night

by Chevy Stevens

  “I thought we had an agreement, Toni.” Her voice was icy calm, polite. “You were going to stay away from my daughter.”

  “Your daughter’s leaving. I suggest you do the same.”

  “Come on, Mom, let’s get out of here.” Ashley tugged on her mother’s arm. Shauna ignored her, her face still composed.

  “Toni and I need to talk about a couple of things,” she said. “Get in my car. I’ll be up in a minute.” But Ashley wasn’t backing down that easily.

  “I’m sixteen—you can’t order me around like that.”

  “Unfortunately for you, you’re still a minor and living under my roof.” Shauna’s voice was level, but I could tell by her stiff shoulders, her tight grip on her keys, that she was fighting to keep her cool.

  “That doesn’t mean you own me.” Ashley’s face was now red.

  “I saw your car in the parking lot. You only have your learner’s. What were you thinking?”

  I hadn’t thought about how Ashley had gotten to the marina. Now I saw real concern under Shauna’s anger.

  “I’m going to have to take away your keys for this stunt,” she said.

  “I’m sick of you running my life and all your stupid threats,” Ashley said, her faced twisted in rage. “I know what you did to Toni—”

  “Just go, Ashley. I’m fine.” The last thing I wanted was her to accuse her mom of the theft and get herself—and me—in more shit.

  Shauna turned around, her face livid, but her voice was still calm as she said, “Thank you, Toni, but I can handle my own daughter.”

  Ashley was still standing on the dock, watching us.

  “She came to my boat, Shauna. I didn’t show up at your house. Maybe you need to get better control of her.”

  Inside, Captain was going nuts, sounded like he was taking the wall apart. Shauna got a calculating look, then her expression changed to fake concern.

  “Toni, I’m worried about you. Rescue dogs like that have been known to snap. Are you sure you’re safe? Are you sure he’s safe?”

  I caught my breath as I registered the threat underneath her words. “What the fuck are you getting at, Shauna? You think you can just threaten me like this?”

  “I’m giving you some friendly advice. You’ve always taken on the hardest cases, rescuing damaged creatures no one else wants.…” She paused, letting it sink in, waiting for me to get what she was really saying. And I did.

  She was talking about Ryan. The wharf tilted as a tugboat cruised by, sending waves in our direction. I focused on it for a moment, gathering my thoughts, trying to find my balance. I couldn’t let her throw me.

  “But there’s a reason no one wants them,” she said, “why someone else let them go. You just never know when they might turn on their owner.”

  Now I was really pissed. “If you have something to say, Shauna, then—”

  “If I were you, I’d stay away from Ryan Walker,” she said. “He’s no good for you, Toni. Look what happened last time.”

  I tried to hide my panic, tried to keep my face neutral. Did she know? Had someone seen us talking one night? Was she threatening to turn us in?

  “You need to stay the fuck away from me, Shauna. You come here again, I’m calling the cops.”

  “No, you won’t.” She turned to her daughter. “Come on, Ashley.”

  They left. At the top of the dock Ashley turned back, tried to mouth, I’m sorry, but her mother grabbed her arm.

  I went inside and held Captain, my body shaking. I kept hearing Shauna’s words over and over again in my head.

  Look what happened last time.…

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CAMPBELL RIVER

  JUNE 2013

  For the next couple of days, I got up early every morning before the heat of the day and drove around handing out résumés, Captain riding shotgun. I was nervous about leaving him alone in case Shauna tried anything. So far I didn’t have any leads for a job, but I talked to one of the women at the shelter who said she knew someone who might dog-sit Captain during the day once I found something. Stephanie, the shelter manager, and I had coffee one day after I walked the dogs. She said the shelter might be hiring in a few months, but that wouldn’t help me at the moment. She was cool, though, and I enjoyed the visit. It was nice being with someone who wasn’t freaked out about my past.

  I came home and spent some more time online checking for new postings, but still no luck. Exhausted by defeat, I went to bed and pulled out my book. I’d developed a taste for Steinbeck in prison and was reading East of Eden for the third time. I drifted off and woke hours later to someone knocking on my door. It was Nate, the guy who’d rented me the boat.

  “Hey, Nate. What’s up?”

  “Sorry, Toni, but you can’t live here anymore. You need to leave right away.”

  “You can’t just kick me out. There are tenancy laws and stuff.”

  “We never had a real rental agreement—it was just verbal. And I got a report that Captain’s been harassing people.”

  “Who would—” I stopped. It had to be Shauna. “That’s not true. He’s a good dog—ask any of the people down here. Someone’s just out to get me.”

  “I also heard what happened at the restaurant. Some of the other people living at the marina, they’ve got expensive equipment on the boats. They don’t want to take a chance, and I don’t want my customers leaving.”

  So that’s what it was really about. He didn’t give a shit about my dog. No one wanted a thief living near them.

  “I’ll be out in the morning.”

  * * *

  I packed my few belongings and left that night, while it was dark. I didn’t want to face everyone going down to their boat in the morning, didn’t want to see the judgment in their eyes. I now had no job, no home, and barely any money. What the hell was I going to do? A hotel would eat up my savings in no time.

  Then I remembered that there was a campsite down in Miracle Beach, fifteen minutes south of town, with older cabins for rent. It wasn’t the best time of year—heading into peak season—but they might have something and it was cheaper than a hotel. I pulled up at the campsite, relieved to see that it didn’t look too busy. Tourist season had been slow this year, and this wasn’t exactly a top-rated campground. The pool was drained, the bottom covered by dirt and leaves, and the playground had seen better days, half of the swings missing. A lot of the RVs were also in rough shape. They probably belonged to people who lived there year-round—pad fees were cheaper than apartment rents.

  The man in the office didn’t ask many questions, just eyed my dog and asked if he was friendly, then told me one of the older cabins in the back was empty. I could have it for cheap. I knew that probably meant it was a piece of shit, and I was right. The bed sagged in the middle, everything smelled old and musty, including the orange curtains on the windows and matching bedspread. But it was stocked with pots, pans, dishes, and I could get new bedding the next day. Captain and I snuggled on the bed that night, both of us waking up at every sound.

  In the morning I called Suzanne and told her where I was staying, and that I was still looking for work. I plugged in my laptop and searched my e-mails, hoping I might have heard back about a job, but nothing yet. I left Captain in the cabin and headed out to print off more copies of my résumé and buy towels—the ones in the cabin were so threadbare and small they couldn’t dry a frog.

  I dropped off a few more résumés, stopping at the shelter to tell Stephanie what had happened in case she got a false report about Captain, then took a couple of dogs for a walk. Next I hit Walmart, buying a foam mattress, some bedding, towels, and cleaning supplies. I wasn’t hungry but I made myself eat a salad for dinner while Captain inhaled a bowl of kibble, then I took him for a long walk along the ocean. I already missed living on the water, feeling the gentle rock of the waves.

  I remembered how Ryan and I would send each other thoughts when we’d had a bad day or fought with our parents. I sat on a log and closed
my eyes, mentally telling him about losing my job, the boat, and now living at a shitty campsite. I imagined myself saying, It’s going to get better, right? And him saying back in his teenage voice, Of course, babe. We’ve still got each other. I opened my eyes, sad now, thinking how innocent we were back then. We thought that our relationship was all that mattered, all we needed, and that it meant we could survive anything. We didn’t know they’d take that from us too.

  * * *

  I was getting ready for bed, brushing my teeth, when I heard a soft rap at the door. Captain jumped up and ran to the door, gave a warning bark.

  “Who’s there?” I said.

  “Ryan.”

  How the hell had he found me? I opened the door, holding Captain back and forgetting for a moment that I was in shorts and a tank top.

  “What are you doing here?” I glanced around, made sure no one was in sight.

  “I heard you lost your job and your boat. We need to talk.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “One of my buddies knows Stephanie, the shelter manager—he does her tattoos. She was talking to him about you today, said you were looking for work and staying at one of the campsites. I drove around today, checking them out and looking for your truck. I saw you walking on the beach earlier.…”

  I remembered the thoughts I’d sent him on that walk. He’d felt it. I knew it. Our eyes locked. I looked away first. “Hang on a minute.”

  I shut the door, pulled on a hoodie and some jeans. One of the things I liked about the cabin was that it was set in the far back of the campsite, surrounded by a dense wall of trees. No one could see it, but I could still hear campers talking in the distance, their laughter carrying in the breeze along with the smoky smell of their fires, and I didn’t feel comfortable talking to Ryan outside.

  I opened the door and made a motion. “Come in.”

  Ryan sat at the table, looked around. “Not bad.”

  “It’s a shithole.” I sat down across from him. This was the closest I’d been to him in years and it made me uneasy, self-conscious, aware of my messy hair, my unmade bed, my clothes draped over a chair. We’d never been alone in my bedroom at home, and now he was in my space. He was a stranger but he was also so familiar to me, the way he moved, his voice. He looked good, his hair damp, like he’d washed it before he came over, but he hadn’t shaved and had a dark shadow covering his face. I remembered how when we were teens he barely had to shave. He was wearing faded jeans and a fitted white shirt under a black sweatshirt, unzipped. One of his tattoos peeked out at his wrist. An eagle claw.

  “We’ve seen worse,” he said.

  “Yeah.” I didn’t want to think about that, what he may have gone through, didn’t want to talk about prison. “Where’s your truck?”

  “Down on the back road, hidden in the bushes. I hiked in. I got some work on one of the tugboats with an old buddy of my dad’s. He also has a sailboat down in the marina and he heard you got evicted.”

  “So what did you want to talk about?” I said.

  “You smell like the ocean.”

  That caught me off guard. A warm heat spread through my stomach. I flushed, angry at my reaction. “That’s what you came here to tell me?”

  Our eyes met again. This time he looked away, saying, “I’m sorry about you losing your job and everything.”

  “I didn’t lose everything. Not yet.” I glanced at Captain, who was staring out the window, his ears twitching at a sound here and there, bunnies and mice scurrying in the night. I turned back to Ryan.

  “I’m pretty sure Shauna set it up. She’s pissed that her daughter is crushing on me.” I told him what had been going on, about the confrontation with Shauna, how she’d warned me to stay away from him.

  “I’m positive it was those bitches who killed Nicole,” he said. I was caught by the deep anger in his voice, the hatred in his eyes. I felt the same way, but it concerned me, the rage barely contained. What would it take for him to explode? He took a deep breath, like he was trying to calm himself.

  “They found Cathy today. She’s dead.”

  “Shit.” I sat up straight, thoughts crashing into each other. I glanced at the door, half expecting the cops to break it down and start screaming orders at us.

  “Yeah, that guy who works on the tugs with me, he was down at the pier when they brought up her body and he overheard the cops talking. They said it was a known drug user, Cathy Schaeffer.”

  “Did she OD?”

  “Don’t know yet, but it sounds like they had a lot of cops down there. My gut tells me it was murder and we’re going to be hearing about it.”

  “There has to be a lot of people she’s pissed off.” I could hear the panic in my voice.

  “Probably, but we’re the only ones with a murder conviction.”

  He was right. We were screwed. I sat back in my chair, the hard edges digging into my calves and thighs. I’m not going back. No way. I can’t go back.

  “Even before this, Hicks has been following me everywhere,” Ryan said. “The fucker even walked in when I was taking a leak at the gas station. He asked if I liked hanging out in men’s rooms, said he sure hoped so because I was going back to prison soon. He’s been pushing me, trying to get me to snap.”

  “Why does he care?”

  “He’s never liked me. He hated my dad too. And I tell you, Toni, I wasn’t scared of him before, but I am now. I’ve got a bad feeling we’re going back in.”

  I had a bad feeling too. “I made an enemy at the halfway house—she’s got friends on the inside, and they’ll be waiting for me.” I told him about Helen.

  He was quiet, thinking, his face worried. He fingered a scar on his arm, the ridges still red like it was fresh.

  “That’s fucked up. Will you be all right? Do you have friends inside too?”

  “I’ve got some girls. But you know all it takes is someone to get you alone for a minute.”

  “If Suzanne suspends us, she might keep us in for the full thirty. We could be in for even longer if she doesn’t cancel it. You’ll have to watch your back every second.” Ryan was right. Suzanne had the authority to suspend us for thirty days while the police investigated, and if she still thought we were a risk, she could refer us to the Parole Board for a post-suspension hearing. That could take another ninety days.

  “What about you?” I said. “Will you be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.” But he fingered the scar again, and I wondered if he also had enemies inside. For a second it was like we were kids again and he was showing me another bruise or cut that his dad had given him. I almost reached out to touch the scar, then curled my hand under the table, digging my fingers into my leg.

  Ryan said, “The cops are going to tell you stuff about me, trying to turn us against each other like they did the first time.” We’d never spoken about our interviews, the lies the cops had told, but obviously they’d tried to screw with his head as well. It made me feel good, knowing that neither of us had thrown the other to the wolves. We’d stayed loyal. “It looks bad that I was talking to Cathy, but I didn’t hurt her. I wanted her alive.”

  “I know.” And I did—though I couldn’t stop thinking about the anger in his face, the rage, how prison changes a person. How it changed me.

  “I want to clear our names,” he said. “It’s not enough that we’re out. I want to be free, no bullshit parole conditions.” He paused, looking at my face. He was gauging my reaction, testing me. “I want it how it used to be.”

  The words hung in the air, an invisible cord that pulled me closer. I caught my breath. I knew what he really meant. I felt myself on the edge, wanted to give over to it, wanted to get up and walk around the table and sit in his lap like when we were kids. But something held me back. Fear held me back.

  “A lot’s changed over the years, Ryan. We grew up.”

  “Haven’t you heard?” A bitter smile. “No one grows up in prison.”

  I had heard that. I’d heard
it a lot, but it wasn’t true for me. I felt like I’d aged a thousand years. My skin weighed me down. I imagined it sliding onto the table, puddling on the floor, wanted to climb back into it like a sleeping bag.

  Ryan’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “What if we could go back in time?”

  “If we could go back in time I never would’ve gone to the lake that night. If we hadn’t taken Nicole, she’d still be alive.” It was the hard, painful truth that I lived with every damn day and that beat in me like another heart.

  Ryan nodded and sighed, his shoulders slumping as he sat back in his chair. After a moment, he said, “I’ve been talking to some people we went to school with and found someone else who was at the lake that night, at that party we saw down below. Her name’s Allison—she was a year younger than us. She said she told the cops back then that she saw a white car like Shauna’s tear out of there that night, just after eleven. I asked which cop and she said it was Hicks. He told her she wasn’t a reliable witness because she was drunk. Then he kept asking her stuff until she said she wasn’t sure what she saw.”

  I remembered the girls’ testimony at the trial, how they said they’d been at the lake earlier, saw me fighting with Nicole around ten, not long after we got there, then they left before ten-thirty. The police figured Nicole had been murdered around eleven. So if Allison saw a white car later, that backed up the girls being involved.

  Ryan was still talking. “I figure because Shauna’s dad’s a cop, they didn’t even consider that she and her friends could’ve been involved.”

  If the girls had been hunting for me, or saw Ryan’s truck and decided to screw with us but mistook Nicole for me in the dark … We did look alike. Or maybe something had happened between all of them during those final weeks of summer. I had a flash of an image, the white car slowing down outside the house a few days before Nicole was killed. She’d said Shauna was away. Was that a lie?

  “She’s willing to give another statement, but it’s not enough,” Ryan said. “Hicks was right—if she was drinking, she’s not a reliable witness. They’ll just say she got the time wrong.” He thumped his fist on the table. “I’ve got to find someone else willing to talk before Shauna kills any other witnesses.”