“That’s what I said. Our guys are around, but I want someone closer to make sure she doesn’t slip. That someone’s you. Maybe you’ll even get a little something out of it.”
Nick forced himself not to respond. Antagonizing his captain wasn’t going to help anything. It was a ridiculous request, but he’d do it. He’d have dinner with her, bring her home, and then hang outside. “Fine.”
“I thought you’d see it my way.” With that, the captain hung up.
“I don’t see it your way, asshole,” Nick breathed into the dead phone. He hung up and blew out a breath. Sam Chase—killer. He shook his head. No way.
“Everything okay?”
Nick shook it off and forced a smile. “Yeah, boss is being a pain in the you-know-what, but it’s fine. We just don’t always agree on how to handle things.”
“Is it about Aunt Sam’s case?” Rob asked.
Nick nodded and then focused on the road, not wanting to think anymore about the fact that his captain had just ordered him to spy on the woman he wanted to be dating.
He stopped at a corner store and bought the paper. As soon as he was back in his car, he pulled out the Metro section and found the article.
It was worse than he’d thought. Somehow the media had gotten hold of nearly every detail of the case and put it in print. The M.O.’s were there, including cause of death. The eucalyptus behind the ears, the gum wrapper they’d found on Walters’ foot, even the presence of seminal fluid. The same was true for Eva Larson. Only the part about the number of leaves on each eucalyptus branch was missing.
The article mentioned that Eva’s daughter’s body had also been found in the apartment, though it appeared to authorities that she’d been dead for some time. It was like someone on the force had written it. Only the recent news of Sam Chase’s apparent guilt went unmentioned.
Slapping the paper down, he put the car back in gear and drove toward Sam’s. Rob picked it up and read in silence. Nick didn’t stop him. The boys would inevitably hear about it in school, since both his name and Sam’s were included in the text.
He parked in front of Sam’s house, and Rob folded the newspaper and handed it to him. He wondered if Sam had seen it yet. Better to hear the news from Nick than from Corona. She’d be getting bad enough news from Corona. He paused before getting out of the car, preparing himself to hold back what he knew. He thought about what would happen if the situation were reversed. Would Sam tell him? He clenched his fists and banished the thought from his head. This was his job. He would do everything he could to protect Sam, but he couldn’t lose his job. He could do both. He and Sam had plans to be together tonight anyway. He would watch her. Probably he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off her and then he could prove to Cintrello that he was dead wrong.
Rob opened the door and stepped inside, calling out to Sam. When no one answered, he shrugged.
Nick frowned. Her car was in front. “Maybe she went for a run?”
Just then, he heard Derek’s voice, screaming. “You bitch! How could you do that to my mother?”
Nick stiffened. “Stay here,” he told Rob, motioning to the kitchen. Nick moved toward the noise. He heard a low level of conversation, but he didn’t recognize the other voice.
Pushing open the door to Sam’s bedroom, he saw her hunched over on the floor. Derek was standing over her, glaring as he waved a fistful of papers at her.
A cardboard box on the floor was empty and turned on its side.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Sam looked up, and Nick saw the agony on her tear-streaked face. “Please, don’t.”
“Tell him what’s going on, Sam,” Derek hissed. “Tell him what you did.”
Sam swiped at her face and pulled herself to her feet, erasing the image of any weakness as quickly as possible. Lifting her chin, she spoke in a firm voice. “Stop it, Derek. This doesn’t involve Nick.”
“Maybe it should,” Derek snapped.
Sam walked to the bed, sank down and rubbed her eyes.
Nick stepped forward. He’d never seen Derek act out like this. Rob was the one who tended to fly off the handle. Nick wondered what had set Derek off.
“Please don’t,” she said again, looking back at Nick. “Please go.”
“No, he deserves to know,” Derek yelled. “You’re involved with him. He should know what kind of a person you are.”
“Derek, don’t talk to your aunt that way,” Nick said. Closing the distance between them, he touched Sam’s shoulder. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She looked up at him and then at Derek and shook her head.
“Fine, she won’t tell you, then I will.” Derek handed the papers he was holding to Nick, who glanced down at the large, cursive writing, still baffled.
“What—”
“Those are letters from my mother,” Derek said. He motioned between himself and Rob, who was still lurking at the edge of the room, looking confused. “Our mother.”
Nick frowned. So what?
Derek pointed back at Sam. “Unopened letters. She’s had some of them for sixteen years and she never read them. I came in here to ask for money for the movies and I found one open on her bed. There was a whole box of them—a whole box of unopened letters. They’re all about us—me and Rob and our dad. My mom asked Sam to come home. Begged her to come back and help her,” he spat.
“Help her with what?”
“With us,” Derek said. “We were poor and our dad was—” He stopped and stared at Rob.
Rob’s eyes widened, but he didn’t speak.
“He was drunk. He didn’t work. Mom asked Sam to come back and help her move, to get a new start. All of us but Dad. And our wonderful Aunt Sam didn’t even open the damn letters. She didn’t even care enough about us to read the letters.”
Sam’s shoulders drooped and Nick could see she was crying. He touched her, but she flinched. He didn’t let up. “Sam, talk to us. What happened?”
She didn’t respond.
“Then she got stuck with us,” Derek continued, his face red, the veins in his neck bright blue and bulging. “That must’ve really sucked for you, huh, Sam? Did you try to get out of it? Did you tell them you didn’t want us? Why didn’t you send us somewhere else?”
“No,” Sam whispered. “That’s not true.”
“It’s crap, all of it.”
“You don’t know what was happening with her, Derek,” Nick said. But he couldn’t figure out why on earth she wouldn’t have read letters from her sister. And why, if she hadn’t read them, had she bothered to keep them?
“Why doesn’t she tell us, then?” Derek said, his anger still at the boiling point.
Nick waited, trying to think of a reason.
Sam didn’t speak.
Derek jumped on the silence. “See, she doesn’t have a reason.”
“You don’t know that,” Rob countered. “She had to have a reason. Sam?”
Shaking, Sam looked up. “I was going through my divorce.”
The boys were silent, but Nick felt like he’d been hit in the gut. His own divorce had been terrible, but it had never driven him away from his family. He didn’t know the circumstances for Sam, he told himself. He didn’t know anything about it. But he found himself jumping to conclusions anyway. And then he wondered if it was even his place to speak. He didn’t belong there. Did she want him to leave? He watched her, the tight line of her lips, the pain in her eyes. He couldn’t help himself. “Maybe your mom and Sam had a big falling-out before she left Mississippi.”
“Mom always talked about how great Aunt Sam was,” Rob said from the doorway. His frame slouched, he seemed smaller suddenly. Sinking to the floor, he put his head in his hands.
“Sam, were there problems between you and your sister?” Nick asked.
She shook her head.
“She hates us. She never wanted us here,” Derek said, his voice cracking.
“That’s not true,” Sam said, moving to him.
She stood and straightened her back, though Nick could see the weight of the situation in her slumped shoulders. “Sure, I was surprised when I got the call about you boys. But I love you guys. You’re like my own children.” She tried to touch Derek again, but he turned his back. Then she turned to Rob, but he wouldn’t look at her either. In the end she sat down on the bed again. “I didn’t realize that Polly needed my help. She always seemed so self-sufficient. I had no idea.”
“Why didn’t you read the letters, then?” Rob asked, his voice quiet, almost hollow.
Her gaze met Nick’s, but he couldn’t find it in himself to comfort her. He didn’t understand how she could turn her back on her sister.
“The divorce was terrible,” she whispered to Nick.
He nodded. “I’ve been divorced, remember?”
Her eyes sparked with anger. “Don’t you dare judge me based on what you think I went through. You have no idea.”
Nick found himself angry too, and he fought to suppress his reaction. “Then explain it.”
She looked at the boys. “It was just terrible.”
“Why?” Nick pressed. “What was so terrible?”
Sam sat in silence, her hands gripped together as though she was gathering her strength to speak. “Brent was a doctor,” she said finally.
The boys looked at her. No one spoke.
“We got married when I was so young. He was eight years older—twenty-nine to my twenty-one. He thought I was a perfect Southern girl. I didn’t date in college. There wasn’t time.” She paused. “And I wasn’t interested. We’d met through his younger sister. She was my roommate.
“After we were married a year, he wanted to have kids, so we started trying.” She shook her head, and Nick watched a tear fall down her cheek. “We couldn’t get pregnant.” She looked at Derek and then Rob. “He couldn’t understand why not. He insisted we have all sorts of tests—both of us.” She pressed her hand to her belly. “I thought I knew. I wasn’t sure, so I went through with the tests.”
She looked at Nick, tears streaming down her face. “I couldn’t have kids. It was me.” She brushed a hand across her cheek. “I tried to talk to him, to explain, but he refused to listen. As soon as he found out, he called me all sorts of terrible things. He didn’t come home that night.
“The next day when I got home from work, he was gone—no note, nothing. He had cleared out the accounts, the furniture, everything. I had a week to find a new place to live. When I finally reached him and asked how I was supposed to live, he told me, ‘A dirty whore could go back to the streets.’ The day after that, I got papers—divorce papers and a letter drafted by his attorney. He had itemized what things I could have from the apartment—my clothes, pictures, almost nothing else. He refused alimony or any support and warned me not to touch the bank accounts. He said if I tried legal grounds, he’d have me proved a slut in court. And he said I should keep away from all of our friends. If I didn’t do as he said, he’d tell everyone why I couldn’t have kids.”
She looked up and sucked in a deep breath. “I got the first letter from Polly that same day. I had a hundred and twelve dollars in cash and that was it. No car—it had been in Brent’s name—no savings, nowhere to stay. In that letter, Polly was so happy, I couldn’t . . .” She stopped and dropped her hands. “I couldn’t take it. I’d never felt so alone.”
Rob moved toward her and Derek sat down on the floor.
Nick felt a terrible pit in his stomach.
“I started to drink too much, I almost lost my job, and by the time I got her second letter, I was ready to kill myself.” She pulled in another raspy breath. “I couldn’t handle hearing how good things were for her, hearing about her babies.” She motioned to the boys. “I was so jealous of what I thought she had.” She took Rob’s hand and knelt in front of Derek. “I thought things were great for her. I had no idea.” She reached for Derek’s hand. “I should’ve read those other letters, but after hearing how happy she was in the first one, the thought of her happiness was just too painful. I’m sorry. It was selfish.”
Derek nodded.
Sam sat down and pulled Derek to her chest.
Rob moved closer, too.
Nick ached to join them, but he didn’t move.
“Why couldn’t you have kids?” Rob asked.
Nick looked down and met Sam’s pleading gaze. He knew. It made sense. Her guardedness, her inability to express herself, it was all fear. He moved to the floor with them, grasped her knee, and nodded. “Tell them.”
She squeezed his hand and then turned back to the boys, still holding his fingers. With a deep breath, the tears still falling down her cheeks, she said, “I was abused.” The sentence shot from her lips. Slowing down, she said it again. “I was abused.” She looked at Rob and then at Derek. “My father abused me.”
“How?” Derek said, his mouth open, his voice a hoarse whisper.
She held tight to Nick’s hand but didn’t falter. “Sexually,” she whispered. “He abused me sexually. From the time I was about three, I think.”
She looked at Nick. “That night you were here and I got that call—”
He nodded without speaking, worried that any sound might stop her.
“It was my brother. He called to let me know that my father was dead. Despite all he had done to me, I was still shaken. Still miserable that I’d never gotten to say good-bye to him.”
With the words finally out, she turned to Nick and began to sob. He pulled Rob and Derek close as Sam’s head dropped onto his chest. He held her, rubbed her back, and rocked her tenderly. Let it all out, he thought. She had needed this for so long. Rob put his arms around her too. Derek started to cry.
She had felt she would never have a family, Nick thought, but there they were, loving her. He only wished he could keep them there, comfort her.
He held her tight and prayed for them all.
Chapter Twenty-four
Whitney sat crouched beside the house with the mirror and lipstick she had taken from her mother’s drawer. Holding her hand steady, she drew her lips red just like her mother did. Her hand slipped and the red slid down her chin. She frowned and looked around for something to wipe it off with. She tried using one of the branches from the big bush in front, but it was prickly and scratched her skin. She looked down at her pink T-shirt. It wasn’t as dark as the lipstick, but they sort of matched. Plus, she had Jell-O stains on this one already. She pulled up the corner of the shirt and wiped the lipstick on it. When she was done, though, the shirt had a big mark. Whitney picked at it with her finger, but it was still there.
“Whitney,” her mother called. Whitney jumped and dropped the shirt, staring down at the lipstick and mirror she’d taken. She thought about her mouth. She couldn’t go in now.
“Whitney, it’s time to take a bath,” her mother called again, and Whitney could tell she was in the back. She’d be coming out front next.
Whitney shoved the lipstick and mirror into the prickly bush and ran down to the street. She turned the corner, toward school, and ran smack into a leg.
“Oh, my, someone’s in a hurry.”
Whitney backpedaled and looked over her shoulder, but she didn’t see her mom. She looked up at the man, who was watching her curiously, and frowned.
“Oh, sorry,” the man whispered. “Are you hiding?”
Whitney looked over her shoulder again and then stared at him without answering.
“Are you hiding?” he repeated, still whispering.
Whitney tossed her head back and pushed her lips out like her mom did when she was talking to some men. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she said.
“Very smart,” he said.
“Whitney,” her mother called.
Whitney jumped behind the man.
“Whitney Anne,” her mother called again, louder.
Whitney ran as fast as she could to the neighbor’s hedge and ducked behind it.
“I’m sorry. I was just looking for my daughter.”
The man smiled and looked down the street in her direction.
Whitney gasped and covered her mouth, but then the man shook his head. “I haven’t seen any little girls, I’m afraid. I’m just looking for my cocker spaniel, Murphy.” He smiled. “I’ll keep an eye out for your daughter if you’ll do the same for my Murphy.”
Whitney’s mom smiled at him and pushed her hair up on one side with her hand like she did with the man at the grocery store. Whitney pushed her hair up, too, wondering if that was what men liked. It just looked goofy to her.
When her mother had gone, Whitney fell over in a fit of silent giggles. When she looked up, the man was smiling down at her.
“Why did you tell my mom you hadn’t seen me?”
He shrugged. “Because I thought you were hiding from her.”
“I was, but you’re a dult.”
“A dult?” he repeated.
“Yeah, like a grown-up.”
“So, I’m supposed to tell her where you are?”
Whitney shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Because dults aren’t fun.”
She shook her head. “No.”
He frowned. “That’s too bad. I’m fun.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You can’t be.”
“Because I’m a grown-up?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I guess I thought you were grown-up, too.”
“How come?”
“Because you look so grown-up in that lipstick.”
Whitney remembered the lipstick and kissed the back of her hand. She had to figure out a way to get rid of it before she saw her mom.
Just then, the man handed her a hankie. “You can wipe it on that.”
She looked at the white hankie and thought about how mad her mom would be if she got red lipstick on something that white. She looked up at him, but he just nodded.
(2002) Chasing Darkness Page 19