It Started That Night

by Virna DePaul

  “Excuse me?” John snapped, immediately wondering if the man was calling to confess to killing Tina Cantrell. If that was the case—

  “When you asked me if I thought it was a fling. I knew it wasn’t. Not for me.”

  John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Mr. Park, I really don’t have time—”

  But Park wasn’t listening. “I loved her. And I’ve thought about her almost every day since we talked. So, if you need me to take a polygraph—I’ll do it.”

  “That’s great. I’ll have one of my deputies contact you to set one up.”

  “I mean, they’re reliable, right? Have other witnesses taken one? Doug? Lily?”

  “It’s a complicated process, Mr. Park, one that will be explained to you thoroughly. Now, I really need to go, but please call me if you remember anything. You haven’t, have you? Remembered anything?”

  “Oh, no. No, nothing new.”

  John turned to stare out the window. He jerked back when he saw Lily still standing on the sidewalk talking to a man and woman.

  He cursed.

  A man and woman he recognized.

  He shut his phone and lunged for the door.

  * * *

  Joanna Sherwood followed Lily back to her car despite her repeated attempt to stop the conversation. “We’ve tried calling. Writing letters. You’ve never responded.”

  Lily opened her car door, jerking in surprise when Mr. Laslow slammed it shut. The threat in his action when compared to John’s just moments earlier was huge.

  The sun beat down on her. Too bright. Too hot. As she stared at Laslow, anxiety and a hollow feeling of vulnerability shook her. She felt small and defenseless and exposed.

  Ms. Sherwood frowned at the man. “Easy, Oscar. We’re not here to intimidate her.” Returning her gaze to Lily, she urged, “Please, he just wants to talk with you. Don’t you think a dying man deserves—”

  “Hey. Get away from her.” John was suddenly back, stalking down the stairs and toward Lily with a menacing thrust to his jaw that made Ms. Sherwood’s eyes widen.

  Still, she remained focused on her goal. “Ms. Cantrell, please. I’m begging you—”

  John stood by her side. His mother stood in the doorway, worry etching her normally serene features. “Laslow, what the hell are you doing?”

  Oscar Laslow tipped his head at John. “Hey, John. Me and the PD here are just having a little chat with Ms. Cantrell.”

  “Well, I don’t think Ms. Cantrell is interested in talking right now.” He glanced at Lily. “Or am I wrong?”

  Lily shook her head.

  To Joanna Sherwood, John said, “In case you don’t know, lady, that means no. So we’ll be going inside now.”

  Gently taking Lily’s arm, John guided her up the stairs and past his mother. Before they got inside, however, Lily stopped and tugged herself away from John. She walked to the top of the stairs and called out to Joanna Sherwood, who paused in the act of getting into her car.

  “Ms. Sherwood, Chris Hardesty won’t get any pity from me. You’ve harassed me for years. This is where it ends.” She felt John stand by her side, and the gentle pressure of his arm against her shoulder gave her added strength. In a louder voice, she said, “I’m getting a restraining order. If you attempt to contact me again, you’ll regret it.”

  Joanna Sherwood straightened, braced her hands on her hips and thrust out her chin. “Then I guess I’ll have to get a court order for an evidentiary hearing. One way or another, someone needs to hear Chris’s side of things.”

  “He killed two women,” she whispered. “How can you defend him?”

  “He’s maintained his innocence the whole time. And now there’s—”

  “Lily, let’s go.”

  Lily shook her head and she raised her eyes to John. “She thinks he’s innocent. Do you?”

  A shadow crossed his face and he raised his hand to cup her chin. “Come inside with me, small fry. We can talk inside.”

  Dread filling her once more, she allowed him to gently take her arm and lead her inside.

  For the first time, she allowed the question to actually form in her mind. “What if?”

  What if Hardesty wasn’t the one?

  Chapter 10

  At work the next day, Lily gathered her things even as she second-guessed her impulsive offer to talk to John later this afternoon. As she turned to flip off the light, she sensed someone behind her, and whirled around. Hand to her chest, she smiled. “Hey,” she said. “I was hoping you’d come by again. You left so suddenly the other day.”

  Albert shrugged. “I saw the doc. Just wanted to say hello.”

  “I’m so glad.” She smiled regretfully. “I was just leaving for the day, but I made you something. Will you wait while I get it?”

  Surprise flickered across Albert’s face. She removed the package from the low cabinet across the room, then crossed back to him and held it out. He didn’t take it. Just continued to look at her with suspicious, narrowed eyes. “It took me a few nights, but I think I got it right.”

  Slowly, he took the bundle and unwrapped it. She clasped her hands together, anxious to see if he liked it. When he saw the colorful mosaic, he pressed his lips together. “Gracias,” he said. “It is…cool.”

  Lily nodded. “It’s an easy technique. I can show you—”

  Albert’s eyes flickered to something over her right shoulder. He morphed right in front of her. Thrust out his chin. Banked the joy in his eyes. Towered over her with a menacing presence that had her cringing.

  Damn it, no! She whirled around. Three boys swaggered toward them, radiating hostility and aggression. They swept Lily with disdainful, mocking glances designed to make her feel intimidated and nakedly vulnerable. Albert immediately stepped toward them and rattled something off in Spanish while trying to lead them away.

  The boy in the middle resisted. “What did she give you?” He held out his hand.

  Lily shifted her body and stared at Albert. He briefly met her gaze.

  “What? You need this bitch’s permission? I think you’re forgetting where your loyalty lies, punk.”

  “No, Ernesto. I’m not. Here.” Albert handed Ernesto the mosaic.

  Ernesto stared at it, rotating it one way and then the other. “What is it?”

  Albert shrugged.

  Ernesto imitated the gesture. “Well, then it doesn’t matter if—” he dropped it “—it breaks.” The mosaic landed on the floor with a thud. Part of one corner split from the whole. Albert didn’t say a word.

  “Lily.”

  Lily’s head jerked up at John’s voice. Relief swept over her so quickly that her knees threatened to buckle. He stood behind the group of boys, his body braced as if ready to strike. In a black T-shirt, leather jacket, jeans and boots, he emanated toughness, making Albert’s friends resemble little boys trying to act tough. With slow, measured steps, he moved toward them until his body stood between her and the other males. “Get away from her.”

  Lily moved beside Albert and kept her eye on the boys. If they made one wrong move, she was going to scream like bloody hell.

  Ernesto didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.

  “Now,” John commanded. He pulled back his jacket, showing Ernesto something inside. Ernesto smiled but backed up.

  “Anything you say. Pig.”

  Ernesto looked at Albert. “Outside.” Kicking the mosaic before he disappeared, he left. One of the other boys spit on the mosaic before they followed him out.

  Albert stepped up to the mosaic and knelt down, his stricken expression telling her all she needed to know. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just stay here.”

  He shook his head and brushed off her hand. “I…I can’t…” He swallowed.

  “Don’t go with them, Albert. Please.”

  He closed his eyes for a second. “You don’t understand. You don’t know—” Turning abruptly, he practically ran to the doorway.

 
“Wait!”

  He stopped.

  She ran to the drawer with her purse and searched inside. Panicking when she couldn’t find what she wanted, she dumped it out, then grabbed a small white card. She offered it to Albert. “I want you to call me if you need me.”

  “Lily...” John growled.

  She shot him a look of warning. He stopped talking, but he didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked furious.

  She ignored him and turned back to Albert. “You’re not like them, Albert. You’ve got talent. A talent that can speak to the world. Keep up with it.”

  Albert hesitated before taking the card. Backing away, his body rocking in an insolent swagger that she knew was solely for John’s benefit, he left. “So that’s the kind of patients you have? Street thugs?”

  She stiffened, her relief and gratitude leaving her as fast as it had formed. “I work with all kinds of patients. Cancer, burn, HIV positive, and substance-abuse patients included. And you weren’t exactly known for your model behavior when we were growing up.”

  John stared at her, his fists clenched at his sides. “My past isn’t the issue here. That kid’s trouble. Lily, what are you thinking? And what the hell did you just give him? Your phone number?”

  She hugged her arms tightly to her chest. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Besides, Albert’s a good kid. He’ll stay out of trouble if he knows someone cares.”

  John’s own eyes widened in disbelief. “He’s a gangbanger. A Norteño.”

  She winced and pressed a hand to her aching head. “I know, but he says he’s going to jump out.” She began throwing her stuff back into her purse. “What are you doing here? We’re not supposed to meet until four.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then why—?”

  “I don’t know. I guess four just wasn’t soon enough for me.”

  He’d moved closer. She could feel the heat radiating from him—from his body, from his eyes, from the fingers that he lifted to gently caress her cheek. “I didn’t mean to insult your friend. I just worry about you, Lily. I always have.”

  Her muscles remained stubbornly tight for several seconds. When his hand dropped away, she hid her regret with a shrug. “There might have been reason for you to. Back then. But I’m no longer a child, John. I can take care of myself.”

  John smiled and took a step back. “That you can, small fry. But can I walk you to your car, anyway?”

  * * *

  On the walk to her car, Lily started to relax. Less than an hour later, John sat across from Lily in her living room, faking a casualness he wasn’t feeling. She wore the old tense, silent armor.

  To give them both some breathing room, he forced himself to glance around her house. The inside of her home didn’t look nearly as generic as the outside. Paintings, masks and mosaic tiles were everywhere. Framed certificates dotted the wall.

  Of their own volition, his eyes returned to Lily, drawn by her fresh, feminine appearance despite the troubled expression in her eyes. She wore street clothes and a ponytail, which made his hands itch to unwind the silken strands. Every time he touched her, whether it was her hair, lips or skin, she always felt cool. But then she’d immediately start to warm.

  Reading his thoughts, she shifted nervously then announced, “I’ll get some drinks. Be right back.” She raced from the room. She came back several minutes later with two glasses and a pitcher of what looked like lemonade on a tray, which she put down on the table. Then she gnawed on her thumb.

  She poured him a glass and confirmed, “It’s lemonade.”

  He took a drink, set down his glass, then picked up the framed picture beside it. It was a picture from before the divorce. She looked just like she had at sixteen. Sweet. Saucy. Happy. She had her arms wrapped around her mother, while Ivy hugged their father. When he looked up, she was also staring at the photo, her expression achingly sad.

  Oh, baby. I wish I could make this all go away.

  She saw him looking at her and straightened. The speed with which she wiped her expression clean spoke of years of practice.

  He put the picture down. “I noticed your mom wore this same necklace the night of...” He cleared his throat. “Was it valuable?”

  She shook her head and lifted her hand to her throat, pulling the pendant from behind her shirt. “It has sentimental value more than anything else. It has my mom’s birthstone. Garnet. The other two stones are mine and Ivy’s birthstone. Aquamarine—we were both born in March. My dad gave it to her after I was born.”

  She tucked the necklace back under her shirt.

  “And who’s that?”

  She picked up the picture of a smiling girl with dark hair.

  “This is my niece, Ashley. Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Yes, she is. Not surprising since she looks so much like you. But then again, she reminds me a little of Carmen. Something about her cheekbones, I guess.” He stopped rambling, feeling like an idiot.

  “She’s got her first crush. A boy named Mike. Her best friend’s stepbrother. Weird, huh?” Blushing, she put the frame down with a shaky hand and stared over his shoulder. “You asked me about Carmen before…I didn’t mean to hurt her. It’s just, after my mom…well, I didn’t really keep in touch with anyone.” Before he could respond to her, she took a deep breath, sat back, and twisted her hands in her lap. “All right. So, how does this work?”

  “What?”

  “This questioning thing.”

  He smiled. “Well, I’m not going to pull out my spotlight and rubber hose, if that’s what you mean. Why don’t we just talk about what you remember? Or more to the point, what you don’t remember.”

  What he really wanted was to hold off on their official business for a while longer, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair. She’d voluntarily chosen to cooperate. She deserved to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  He took a file from his briefcase and flipped to the testimony she’d given during Hardesty’s penalty phase hearing. It was very brief, focused on the discovery of her mother’s body. “Your testimony at trial established you have memory blanks. Is that still true?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I remember going to your party. I remember seeing you—” She flushed and looked down at her shoes. “I remember leaving. That’s when my memory really starts to get fuzzy.”

  “Fuzzy how?”

  “I remember walking home. Sort of. But it’s like walking through molasses. I get glimpses of emotion. But it seems like a dream.”

  She glanced up. For a moment, she looked desperate to be anywhere but here. Talking about anything but this. “It seems like a nightmare.” She took several long swallows. “Obviously, it wasn’t a great night for me.”

  “For me, either,” he said.

  “So I was walking home. I knew something was wrong. I felt out of it. I was imagining creepy crawly things all around me, but I didn’t know it was drugs at the time.” She frowned. “I still don’t know how drugs got into my system but I remember my dad picking me up. I remember us walking into the house. I remember…finding her. Then things get blank again. Until the next day, when my dad…my dad told me she was dead.”

  She closed her eyes and raised her hand to her mouth as if she was getting ready to throw up.

  I can’t do this, John thought. Yet what choice do I have? If I don’t make her talk about it, someone else will. “I saw you at the party around 8:30. You fought with your mother around seven?”

  Lowering her hand, she took a deep breath. “Seven-thirty.”

  “So what did you do for an hour?”

  The way she stiffened put all of John’s senses on red alert. For a moment she just stared at him, a small frown pinching her features. But then her expression smoothed and her shoulders relaxed. “I went to the park. Sat in that old cement tube. Thought about going back. But I wanted to see you. Wanted to wait until the party started. I think I fell asleep for a while.”

  “But you remember what happened at my house? Talki
ng to me? Kissing me?”

  Their eyes met and she could swear an electric current flared between them. “I already said I did,” she choked out.

  “What about the alcohol, Lily? When you came to see me, I smelled alcohol on you.”

  “I don’t remember having anything. Maybe I got some at your party somehow—“

  “What about the LSD?”

  She glanced at him and flushed, obviously mortified he knew about her test results. “I already told you! I don’t know how I got that.”

  “Had you used drugs before?”

  “No. And I don’t remember doing it that night. I didn’t before. I don’t know who—”

  John rubbed his hands against his face. “Yeah.” Had Hardesty slipped it to her?

  What if Hardesty hadn’t given her the LSD, but her father had? It made the most sense. He’d picked her up, but didn’t take her home right away. He got her drunk. Gave her drugs. Then brought her home to be his alibi. His shield against accusations he’d killed his ex-wife.

  At his continued silence, Lily glared at him. As if he enjoyed this. Enjoyed making her suffer. Frustration made him edgy. “I’m just trying to make sense of this,” he explained. “It’s important, damn it, more important than you realize. Life and death important.”

  He closed his eyes against the stunned look on her face. He hadn’t meant to say that. But he could hear her mind working now.

  “When you first came by, you said something about other girls. Other murders. What were you talking about?”

  John shook his head. “Lily, let’s not—”

  “I want to know.”

  Looking into her eyes, he thought about keeping it from her. But then he reminded himself she was an adult. She deserved to know. “Someone’s murdering young women. Their ages range from twenty-five to eighteen. The only thing they have in common is a practice of hitchhiking and the way they were killed.” Deliberately, he didn’t tell her that the others, and especially Sandy LaMonte, resembled her and her mother. He wanted her informed, not scared, not when there was no indication The Razor was targeting her specifically. Or that he even knew where she lived. “Joanna Sherwood is saying it’s the same person who killed your mother.”