It Started That Night

by Virna DePaul

  “You’re in charge of the murder investigations?”

  “That’s right. They all occurred about an hour from here, in El Dorado County. So even though the evidence against Hardesty is strong, there are holes I’m looking into. Because I can’t take the chance that we’re wrong.”

  She shook her head. “No wonder you’ve been so persistent about talking to me.” Her expression twisted into one of self-disgust. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He raised a hand and cupped her face. “It’s okay, small fry,” he whispered. His eyes dropped to her lips and he fought the urge to kiss her. Cursed when she closed her eyes and actually leaned toward him.

  He dropped his hand.

  He wanted her. He wanted her so badly. But he couldn’t take advantage of her emotion or her newly found trust. Not if he wanted more from her. So he forced himself to do the last thing on earth he wanted to do.

  He pulled away.

  She stared at him and he struggled to catch his breath. To not respond to the aching need in her eyes. “Lily, we can’t—”

  “You’re right.” Her face showed disappointment, but only briefly. “I was just upset. That’s all. Of course it didn’t mean anything.”

  John frowned. “I didn’t say that—”

  She licked her lips and clasped her hands in front of her. “So what happens now? You’ll tell Thorn what I told you? That we know why Hardesty did it?”

  Refusing to let her brush him off, he took her hands in his. “What I meant was I can’t kiss you yet. Not until things get cleared up. But I intend to kiss you a whole lot. I intend to do more than that.” He rubbed his thumbs in circles, smoothing her soft skin until he felt her body tremble. “We just need to finish this first.”

  “Because it would be a conflict?”

  Because I’m beginning to think you witnessed your father kill your mother, he thought. And even though he didn’t say it, something in his thoughts must have shown something on his face.

  Her eyes narrowed. “What is it? I’m not lying, John, I swear it.”

  “I believe you. But others aren’t going to be so ready to believe.”

  She sat down. “So there’s nothing we can do. Even though you believe me? You’re still going to—”

  “I’ll talk to Thorn. But will you consider something, Lily? You and your father. I need you to both take lie-detector tests.”

  She reared back. “What?”

  “Polygraphs aren’t admissible at trial, but that’s not what we need here. I know it seems extreme to you, but it could help us. And if I can ask your father about certain things that have come up—”

  Hurt and doubt crept on her face, making him want to throw something. “This isn’t about not believing you, Lily.”

  She frowned. “Then who is it about? Hardesty?”

  He simply stared at her. Her eyes grew wide and he could see her mind spinning, evaluating the questions he’d asked her in a different light. “My father?” she whispered.

  “Lily, listen to me—”

  She raised her chin. “You’re back to thinking that? Just because someone moved my mom’s body? There’s no reason to think he’s involved in this.”

  John pushed back, knowing he had no choice. “Isn’t there? According to what your father told police, he found you wandering back from my party after eleven. Do you know your mom called him hours earlier? He claims he drove around looking for you the whole time, but I think we both know that’s pretty unlikely.”

  “I don’t think any such—”

  “He didn’t come to my house. Why? Your mom had to have told him where you’d be. Your father—”

  “My father what? Say it,” she said.

  “Your father was a cop. I think that’s the reason shortcuts were taken in the case. Why we never knew he’d washed your hair or had you change clothes. Why the D.A. was so ready to convict Hardesty even without conclusive DNA results.”

  “Hardesty confessed—”

  “After being kept in a room for twelve hours, with no food, nothing to drink.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Listen to me. You said yourself your father wanted her back. That he didn’t want to leave. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he just freaked out and—”

  “You bastard,” she sobbed. “You want to take him away from me, too? You want me to believe my father did that to her? And then took me there to find her?”

  She was trembling so badly her teeth chattered.

  Helplessness washed over him and he reached out for her. “Let me help you, Lily.”

  She swatted him away and stood. Damn, she looked like she wanted to throw him out the window. “Lily—”

  In disbelief, he watched her pick up a vase from a small table. “Don’t—” He barely got the word out before she let loose. He ducked. The vase flew over his head and smashed against the wall behind him.

  Desire rushed straight to his groin. He narrowed his eyes as she grabbed several books. Thick hardbacks. She flung one and he dodged to the side. Enough of this. He shifted his weight and prepared to tackle her.

  She dropped the second book with a thud and fell to her knees, laughing in harsh, hysterical bursts. “God, I must have done something really bad in a past life.”

  He absorbed her pain, almost reeling at its intensity. Rushing to her, he dropped to his knees and cradled her face. “Don’t say that, baby. I know it seems bad, but we’ll get through this.” He had to believe that.

  She pulled violently away. “You don’t get it, do you? I trusted you again and this is what happens. You accuse my father of murder.”

  She opened the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I want you to leave.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Then I will.”

  “Lily, please. Listen to me—” She ran out the door and John ran after her.

  I know you love me, he thought, just as a heavy weight slammed against the backs of his knees. They buckled. He landed on the ground with a muffled curse, catching himself with his hands and immediately twisting around. A series of punches caught him in the face. His lip split open. With a guttural yell, he heaved off his attacker and sent him flying several feet away. He got to his feet and crouched down low in preparation for another attack. His thoughts went to Lily. Were there more? Did they have her?

  A man rushed him. He saw the face—not a man, but a boy. The gangbanger, Albert. He’d known the kid was trouble the second he’d laid eyes on him. Rage filled him as he imagined the worst.

  Albert paused and John wiggled his fingers in the universal sign for “bring it on.” They circled each other. Albert cursed him in Spanish.

  He shook his head. “No. I’ve never wanted to screw my mother. Or a dog for that matter. You must be projecting.”

  Albert flushed and lunged at him. John stepped aside and caught him in a head lock. He grunted when Albert jabbed his stomach with an elbow, but he didn’t release his hold. He squeezed tighter, cutting off the boy’s air supply until he gasped. Albert continued to struggle like an overgrown snake.

  “Knock it off,” John said through clenched teeth. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “You were…hurting her. I’ll kill you. Don’t…hurt her.”

  John loosened his hold a fraction.

  Before he could explain himself, Albert pulled back his arm and punched John in the groin. Stars exploded behind his eyes and he gagged. Falling to his knees, he automatically tightened his hold so he dragged Albert down with him. He wheezed desperately for breath. “Stop...I wasn’t hurting her.”

  Albert struggled to escape or do more damage. “Liar. She was…crying. Running.”

  “We argued. But...”

  An erratic punch landed near John’s groin again. It bounced off his thigh. “Enough!” He heaved himself up and slammed Albert on the ground, pinning his arms behind him and grinding his face into the dirt. “I’m a cop! I wasn’t hurting her.” He bent
down to yell in Albert’s ear as he continued to struggle. “I’m trying to help her. We fought, but she loves me, okay? She loves me!”

  Albert froze as he finally heard what John was saying. John let go and barely noticed when Albert stood. “She loves me,” he repeated.

  As crazy as it sounded. As brief as their recent contact had been, it was true. Maybe it wasn’t reality. Maybe it was based on a schoolgirl’s crush. But it didn’t matter. She’d said it then. And it was still true. She loved him.

  It’s why she’d kissed him. Why she’d opened up to him. Why she’d been so devastated when he’d questioned her about her father.

  She loved him.

  And God help him, he was beginning to think he loved her, too.

  Despite the years.

  Despite the many women he’d had since.

  Despite the fact that they barely knew each other.

  He still loved her.

  Chapter 11

  Lily knocked on her father’s front door, stiffening when her stepmother Barb answered. “I’m looking for my father.”

  Probably in response to Lily’s breathless, disheveled appearance, Barb raised an eyebrow. “Come in, Lily, and tell me what’s this about.” She reached out to grab Lily’s arm, but Lily stumbled back.

  “No. I want to talk to my father. Is he here?”

  Barb pressed her lips together in that way she had when she thought someone was being “uncivilized.” “He went to the store but he’ll be back soon. Do you want to wait for him inside or out here?”

  “I’ll wait inside. Thank you.”

  Barb sighed. “Come in, then.”

  Lily followed Barb into their formal living room, grimacing as she settled gingerly onto the white, formal sofa set. She was always afraid to move when she sat in this room, afraid she’d rub some of the world’s grime—her grime—onto her stepmother’s spotless furniture.

  Blood on the white walls. On the carpet. On the sheets.

  Images tumbled through her mind. Her father cradling her mother, who wore a wedding dress and a radiant smile. Lily throwing a football at her mother, who caught it and then dodged past her father only to have him sweep her off her feet and twirl her in a circle. Her father cradling her mother’s broken bloody body, weeping as he placed her on a bed.

  Out of nowhere, fear paralyzed her.

  Oh God. Oh God.

  Lily couldn’t control the bile rising in her throat.

  Dad loved Mom. He would never hurt her.

  Swift and merciless, a tiny, traitorous voice challenged her. You never would have thought your father would be unfaithful. Multiple times.

  But an affair’s different, she countered. It wasn’t murder.

  No matter what she told herself, however, terror filled her until she could feel nothing else. John had planted a seed in her mind, and it had grown to gigantic proportions, looming over her like a towering redwood.

  She flinched when Barb grabbed her arms. “Lily, what’s going on? What did John Tyler tell you?”

  Lily jerked back. “Wh-what? How did you know I talked to him?”

  She straightened. “It’s the only reason you’d be this upset. Someone from the A.G.’s office called your father. Told us John Tyler was going to be asking questions. The bastard. Trying to turn you against your father. After all he’s done. Why would you do such a foolish thing? Why would you talk to him?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, confused. “We don’t have anything to hide. He—”

  “Is that the tack he used? I worked as a dispatcher for years, Lily. I know how cops get people to talk. It’s what your father did for a living. John Tyler has always had nerve where you’re concerned. In fact, I think there’s another reason he’s trying to get you on his side. The police suspected him, you know. They interviewed him that night.”

  “What?” Lily breathed out, shaking her head. Disbelief hit her anew. Automatically she rejected Barb’s implication, but for a fraction of a second, she was hit by memories. Memories of her father warning her about John. Telling her of Stacy Mitchell’s accusations. Memories of the way John had grabbed her that night. His strength. His aggression. She’d always believed in him, but what if she’d been wrong? What if he had been responsible for her mother’s death?

  “He even came to the house that night. Trying to talk to you. Your father told me—”

  “What did you say?” she whispered.

  Barb stared at her. “What?”

  “You just said he came to the house to talk to me. When did he come to the house?”

  Barb shrugged. “Your father said he came before they took you to the hospital. When the police were there.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t remember. Why didn’t my father ever tell me?”

  “Why would I have told you?”

  Barb and Lily turned toward her father, standing in the foyer still wearing his long, dark overcoat. “Would it have mattered? You slapped him. It was obvious he’d done something to you. I wasn’t going to let the bastard upset you any more than he already had.”

  “I—I slapped him?” She moaned. “God, Dad! How could I not remember? You should have told me! You should have—”

  Her father stunned her when he punched the wall. “Your mother was dead!” He turned to her with a fierce, angry expression. “Remember that? Remember how we found her body? John Tyler meant nothing to me. Nothing!”

  He looked murderous.

  “Douglas, stop—” Barb began, but he turned on her.

  “What the hell are you doing talking to her about all this? We agreed never to talk to her about it. Never.”

  Barb cringed back. Lily rushed to her father, grabbing his arm, but when he turned on her, she found herself cringing back, as well. Terror. It filled her up like a balloon about to pop. So fast she trembled and heaved for breath.

  She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but a voice—no, two voices—twisted through her head, overpowering her even though each was low and distorted.

  What happened…? Remember what I told you, Lily… . Didn’t mean to do it… .We discovered her body together… .You were walking home when I found you…that’s when we found the body.

  You’ll be rewarded—

  When we found the body— Remember.

  Remember.

  He frowned. “My God, Lily.” Her father took her arms and shook her. “Damn it, Lily, stop this. I’m your father, remember?”

  She closed her eyes, trying to block out the voices. One sounded like her father’s, but not like her father’s. The other voice sounded like…Hardesty’s.

  Shame and confusion made her weak. Dear God, she’d doubted John. Just like everyone else. Despite all her talk of loving him and believing him, she’d actually wondered if he could have murdered her mother. Her own mind now challenged that theory, forcing her to face a possibility just as abhorrent. Even more so. What if the person she needed to fear most wasn’t John, but her own father?

  Her head snapped back as her father shook her again. She opened her eyes, and he slowly came into focus.

  “Stop,” she whispered.

  He did.

  “What happened?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. “Were you remembering something?”

  “I—I don’t know. I thought for a second...” She shook her head. Backed away from him. “No. No, it was nothing. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  Her father didn’t look convinced. “You’re sure?”

  She hesitated, glanced at Barb, then back at her father. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? About the other affairs.”

  “What?” But she could tell by the way her father paled that Dr. Tyler had been telling the truth about that. Pain almost buckled her knees at how foolish she’d been. All along, she’d blamed her mother for not giving her father another chance, when in truth she’d probably given him one chance too many.

  “It’s why Mom made you move out. It wasn’t the first time you cheated. How many—how many were
there? One?”

  He glanced at Barb, who turned away and stiffly disappeared into the kitchen.

  Anger made her step forward, her voice sharp. “Four? Ten?”

  “Stop!” her father snapped. Lily froze and crossed her arms over her chest. Her father rubbed a weary hand over his face. “John Tyler has certainly told you a lot about me, hasn’t he?”

  “Not that.” She wondered suddenly if John had known, though. Had everyone known but her? “But he told me some other things. Things about my clothes being changed. About Hardesty’s confession being coerced. If he—if he’d had anything to do with the murder, he wouldn’t want to reopen things. He’d be happy to keep things focused on Hardesty.”

  “And what? You think I had something to do with your mother’s murder? Is that what you’re saying, Lily?” Her father’s face was grim, closed off into a tight expression of combined anger and betrayal. He looked like a stranger.

  But she still couldn’t believe it. Even knowing about the affairs, she couldn’t believe he’d killed her.

  Confusion flooded her. “No. No, I’m not saying that. I don’t know what happened. It’s just…Mom…we never talk about her and I’ve been so upset about this....”

  Her voice broke and she covered her face with her hands, wanting to curl into herself and disappear.

  Gentle fingers wrapped around her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. Her father looked ready to cry himself. “Do you see now why you need to stay away from that man? Everything’s been fine. We’ve been fine.”

  “I think he just wants to help. He wants us to take a polygraph exam.”

  “And did he tell you how unreliable they are?”

  “So you won’t take one?”

  “Do I need to, Lily? Because yes, I’ve made mistakes. Big ones. But if you really think I’m capable of doing that to your mother—my God, the woman I loved and had two daughters with—then—then I—”

  The pit of misery in Lily’s stomach unfurled when her father started to sob. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Daddy. No, of course I don’t think that. I’m sorry.”

  She hugged her father tightly. They clung to one another in the silence of his home.