“The plot costs two thousand dollars. I won’t be able to pay rent.”
His mother was a pragmatic woman and too proud to borrow from relatives, most of whom were worse off than Eric. “We’ll bury him in Mexico, with your father.”
“No. I want Jenny to be able to visit him here.”
There was a heavy pause. “Whatever you think is best.”
Eric had heard that before. He’d been the financial head of the family since he was seventeen, so he was often called upon to make the tough decisions. At times like this, the responsibility was wearing.
He had so many other things to think about.
At home, a small group of friends and relatives greeted them. In many ways it was a typical Mexican get-together. There were cousins he’d never seen before and more food than anyone could eat. With some livelier music, they could call it a party. Thankfully, his mother fielded most of the condolences. Eric couldn’t bear to keep up the pretense that Raul was a decent human being, worth mourning.
And yet, despite his brother’s lack of redeeming qualities, Eric was devastated by loss. Yes, his brother had been a monster. But Eric had loved him, just the same.
Tonight, the crowd would become larger. Everyone would share stories of Raul, and most of the men would get drunk. The burial wasn’t scheduled until Sunday afternoon, so they had a long weekend of liquor-soaked reminiscing ahead.
Eric had avoided this kind of scene at Junior’s house, and he was even more uncomfortable dealing with it at his own. He slipped out the back door as quietly as possible, plotting his escape.
But his uncle Ramón was standing there, smoking a cigarette. “You want one?”
“No.”
Ramón took a wad of cash out of his pocket. “Your mother told me you could use some help with the funeral costs.”
It was at least a week’s worth of pay, and his uncle needed it far more than Eric did. The display of generosity brought tears to Eric’s eyes. “Give it to my mom,” he said, clearing his throat. “Can you take her to pick up the coffin and headstone?”
“Claro,” Ramón said, taking another drag of his cigarette.
Eric pulled the receipts out of his pocket, giving them to his uncle. “I have some more stuff to do.”
“Why don’t you go back inside first, have a drink?”
He felt as if he was hanging on by a thread, barely able to hold himself together. One more kind word or gentle touch and he’d fall apart. “No. I can’t stay. Tell everyone I said goodbye, okay?”
With a reluctant frown, Ramón nodded.
Eric hugged his uncle and left before anyone else could detain him. He climbed behind the wheel of his car and started the engine, breathing a sigh of relief. His guilt over walking out on his brother’s gathering lasted for only a minute. As soon as he was out on the open road, windows rolled down, radio turned up, he felt better.
“I’m going to miss you, chica,” he said, slapping the dash. If only he could keep on driving and leave all of his troubles behind.
He hadn’t lied to his uncle. There was one last thing he had to do before his appointment with Oscar Reyes. Although it involved seeing Meghan again, he wasn’t looking forward to it. In fact, he was filled with dread.
Palms sweating, he called her on his cell phone. “Is your brother home?”
“No.”
“I’m coming over.”
Meghan didn’t play coy. “Okay.”
He parked by the curb, glancing around warily as he approached the front door. She answered before he knocked, launching herself into his arms. “It’s good to see you,” she said, pressing her lips to his.
Eric hadn’t come for this, but he couldn’t resist kissing her back, with a little more relish than was wise. Before his thoughts—and his hands—could wander too far, he released her. “Let’s go somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
She looked a little disappointed. “Hang on a minute.” After scribbling a note for her brother, she grabbed a purse the size of a paperback. He studied her vintage T-shirt and plaid shorts, admiring her style. With her quirky haircut and modish clothes, she’d fit in with those smart kids at the photography exhibit.
She didn’t belong with a loser like him.
They had only a short time together, and he couldn’t bear to ruin it all. So he drove her to the beach and they strolled along the shore, hand in hand. She kicked off her shoes, testing the water. They watched a pelican catch a fish and spotted several arcing dolphins. When Eric pointed out a hermit crab, Meghan squealed and ran back toward him, afraid for her toes.
It was a golden hour. An utter fantasy, framed by sunset.
“I have to talk to you about something,” he said finally.
She slipped her arm around his waist. “What?”
They were almost at the pier. Unsettled by its presence, Eric turned around, heading in the opposite direction. “The other night, I promised your brother I’d give him some information in exchange for not arresting me.”
Her gaze clouded. She didn’t want this. Like him, she preferred the fantasy. “Information about what?”
“A murder.”
“A murder,” she repeated thinly, dropping her arm.
“I’m going to tell you everything I know, and I want you to relay it to him. Tonight, if you can. It’s important.”
“Why can’t you tell him?”
“Because I’m afraid he’ll arrest me anyway. At the very least, he’ll take me down to the station to make a statement.”
“So? You can do that anonymously.”
“No. I can’t.”
She stared out at the ocean, her chin lifting. “Fine. Tell me about this murder you committed.”
He didn’t bother to correct her wording. “When I was ten, my dad died, and my mom went back to Mexico. My brother was eighteen at the time, so I stayed here in Chula Vista and lived with him. There were no rules at his house. He didn’t make me go to school regularly. We stole things, and stayed out all night, and did drugs.”
“When you were ten?”
“Yes. I did whatever he did. Even then, I was a good tagger. They thought it was funny to get me stoned and give me a can of spray paint.”
Her eyes widened with concern. He wished it wasn’t true.
“One night Raul planned something … really bad.”
“What?”
Eric looked away, swallowing hard. “A girl from the neighborhood wanted to be in our clique. She didn’t have many friends, and her mom didn’t pay much attention to her. She was one of those girls who would … do anything.”
“Like what?”
“Any drug, any guy.” He paused for a minute, collecting himself. “Raul told her she could be a member. We picked her up and took her to this abandoned house. The place was trashed. Everyone was drinking. He tied her up.”
“Why?”
He forced himself to meet her eyes. “Because that’s how girls get initiated.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “With rape? You haven’t done that. Tell me you haven’t done that.”
“Raul went first. Then Tony. Then Junior.”
Her lips trembled. “Not you. Please not you.”
“No. But I might as well have, because I didn’t do anything to help her. I watched it like a movie.”
“She agreed to it? She knew what they’d do?”
“I think so, but she didn’t like it. She screamed, especially with Junior. It was his first time, and he was … overeager.” Disturbed by the memory, he moved on. “I thought they were going to untie her, but Raul left her like that. Another man came to the door, wearing a mask. He gave Raul money to take a turn.”
Meghan covered her mouth with one hand, horrified.
“Even though Junior had just done the same thing, he was furious with Raul. I think he felt some remorse, because he didn’t want the girl to get sold like that. They started fighting, really fighting, knocking holes in t
he walls. Me and Tony broke them up.” His stomach clenched with nausea. “About this time we realized that the girl wasn’t screaming anymore. Raul kicked the door down, but the man was gone. And the girl was dead.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
“She had a plastic bag over her head and a bandanna around her throat. He’d choked and suffocated her. Raul pounded on her chest a few times, but she wasn’t breathing and her heart wasn’t beating. We didn’t know what to do. Calling the police was out of the question. Finally my brother wrapped her up in an old piece of carpet, and we carried her into a copse of trees behind the house. I helped dig the hole. We buried her, right there.”
Meghan sat down on the beach, stunned. “Where was the house?”
“On Sycamore. A construction crew found the body a few years later.”
“What was the girl’s name?”
“Maggie. Magdalena, I think.”
“The case is still open?”
“Unless the mystery man confessed. More likely he kept on killing. Maybe he’s the one who got Cristina.”
“But you don’t know his name or what he looks like.”
Eric made a gesture of frustration. “No. I don’t. I’ve been trying to get more information all week, with fucked-up results. Junior put a gun to my head. Raul busted my lip. And Tony C had only one clue.”
“What?”
“He said the killer was a cop. A patrol officer.”
“Like Noah?”
“I don’t know. It might be bullshit. Between you and me, his brain is fried.”
She reacted the way he’d anticipated—with horror and disgust. A mere week ago, Meghan had been assaulted right here, under the pier. Maybe that was why Eric had brought her to this particular location. To show her that his entire life was like her worst memory. A collection of ugly scenes, a series of physical attacks.
After a few tense moments she looked up at him, holding out her hand. Surprised, he took it, and she tugged, encouraging him to sit down next to her. “Do you think your brother knows his name?”
Eric hesitated, feeling his throat close up. “I went to see him the other night. Before he punched me in the mouth, I gave him some drug money.” Struggling with the words, he said, “He overdosed the next day. He’s dead.”
She put her arms around him. “Oh, Eric. That’s awful.”
He shrugged her off. “I just told you that I stood by and let a rape and murder happen. Did you hear what I said?”
“You were only a boy,” she said.
“And you think I haven’t done anything wrong as an adult? I’m a hard-core criminal. I’ve robbed and beaten innocent people. Sold drugs to kids. Smuggled guns over the border. I’m a bad person, Meghan.”
She studied him, questioning his sincerity. “Are you sorry?”
He wanted to say no, but he couldn’t.
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Not these kinds of mistakes.”
She rubbed his shoulders, refusing to believe the worst of him. “You’re not a bad person. A bad person wouldn’t feel bad. A bad person wouldn’t have saved me from Jack, or tried to make amends, or risked his life to find a killer.” When he glanced away, she cupped her hands around his face. “Your brother was bad. Not you.”
The tears that had been threatening all day pressed close, looming behind his eyes.
“A bad person wouldn’t mourn a brother who trained him to be a criminal or be able to forgive a mother who abandoned him when he was ten years old.”
When she slipped her hand around the nape of his neck, urging him forward, he couldn’t fight his feelings any longer. He cried on her shoulder, literally, with strangers passing by and waves crashing in the background.
Then she wiped his tears away, and he covered her mouth with his, shutting out the world around them with a tender kiss.
“Take me home,” she said in his ear, after they broke apart.
Eric knew what she was asking for and that he shouldn’t give it to her. Only a selfish man would use her body and leave her. His odds for walking away from tonight’s fight unharmed and evading arrest were abysmal.
But she touched her lips to his throat, tasting his skin, and he wavered, remembering the hot slide of her mouth as she went down on him. He wanted that again. He wanted all of her, trembling beneath him.
He wanted one last escape.
So he nodded his agreement and rose to his feet, unable to deny himself the pleasure.
Meghan took him upstairs, her heart pounding with anticipation. Eric walked in first, and she shut the door behind them.
He sat down on the bed, silent.
Feeling nervous, she went to her desk to turn on some music. She’d found an old record player at the secondhand store, along with a handful of classics. Choosing “In My Room” by the Beach Boys, she put the needle in place and stepped away.
“Is this okay?” she asked, undressing.
He watched her clothes fall to the floor, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah.”
After she stripped down to her bra and panties, he rose and pulled his shirt over his head. At just past sunset, there was still enough light for her to see his finely etched muscles and scripted tattoos.
He stood as still as a shadow, letting her come to him.
She crossed the room, smoothing her hands across his chest, touching the thin silver chain that held his crucifix. As she trailed her fingertips over his torso and down his taut abdomen, she felt his eyes on her body. Her nipples peaked against the soft cups of her bra, and a beat pulsed between her legs.
Groaning, he filled his hands with her mostly bare bottom and lifted her against him, kissing her hungrily. They fell back on the bed together, arms and legs entwined. A few days ago she’d been uncomfortable in this position. Now, when he settled on top of her and his erection nudged the cleft of her sex, she felt only pleasure.
Plumbing the depths of her mouth, he shoved his hand down the back of her panties, squeezing her bottom. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and arched like a cat, rubbing her breasts against his chest.
Long before she was ready to stop kissing, he tore his mouth from hers, breathing hard. Shifting his weight to the side, he tugged her panties all the way off.
The sensation of being nude from the waist down was strangely arousing. His gaze lingered on her pale belly, her naked hips, the apex of her thighs. Her breasts strained against the confinement of her bra, her nipples tingling for his touch.
She reached behind her, unhooking the clasp. When her breasts tumbled free, he moistened his lips.
“Touch me,” she said, parting her thighs.
He put his hand between her legs, eager to please. Sliding one finger inside, then another, he tested her heat. At the same time, he lowered his mouth to her breasts, swirling his tongue over the puckered tips.
She spread her legs wider, begging him for more.
Lifting his head, he looked from her wet nipples to the juncture of her thighs. “I want to fuck you so bad.”
“Yes,” she panted.
But he continued to touch her, stroking her slippery flesh until she cried out, shuddering with pleasure. When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her face intently, as if he was trying to memorize her expression. While she stared back at him, senses reeling, he took a condom out of his pocket and unbuttoned his fly. Positioning himself over her, he wrapped his hand around the base of his erection and guided it inside.
It hurt. Not as much as her first time but enough to give her pause.
Eric went very still. “Are you okay?”
She felt pinned to the mattress, her heart fluttering madly in her chest. Realizing that she’d tensed up as soon as he entered her, she tried to relax. Unclenching her fists, she lifted her knees higher. “I think so.”
Cursing in Spanish, he drew back a little and slid in again.
The pain receded into a sweet, hot ache. She hooked her legs around his waist and twined her arms around
his neck, clinging to him. With each thrust, her body accommodated his more comfortably. “Yes, Eric. Like that.”
With a low groan, he drove deeper, watching her breasts bounce as he plunged into her. She was fascinated by his flexing muscles and lust-dark eyes, his guttural curse words and clenched teeth. His excitement thrilled her. She wondered how it would feel if he took her hard and rough, holding nothing back.
He found his release quickly, and somewhat apologetically, as if he regretted not being able to make it last longer. Gripping her hips in his hands, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and came.
For a few moments, he lay on top of her, sweating. “Hang on a second,” he said, removing himself from her carefully. Hitching his pants up his hips, he walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
Meghan smiled, hugging a pillow to her chest. When he came back into her room, he yanked the pillow away from her and wrestled her down on the bed, kissing every inch of her body while she bucked and squealed.
Breathless, they stretched out side by side. She couldn’t think of a time she’d felt more alive. “I love you,” she said, touching his handsome face.
He grabbed her wrist, lightning-fast. “You can’t.”
She pulled her hand back, her smile fading. “I can, and I do.”
After an, awkward pause, he looked away, shaking his head. “I have to go. Don’t forget to tell your brother what I told you.”
She was stung by his careless attitude, almost speechless. “Are you too much of a coward to tell him yourself?”
Jaw clenched in anger, he rose from the bed, finding his T-shirt on the floor.
“So this didn’t mean anything to you?” she whispered, covering herself with the blanket. “I don’t mean anything to you?”
His T-shirt was inside out, so he righted it. “You were okay.”
She wanted to slap him. “You look like a scared little boy right now, Eric. Afraid to admit your true feelings, afraid to get out of the gang. What are you going to do tonight? What’s so important that you have to run away?”
“I’m not running away—and I’m not a coward.” He pulled his shirt over his head, nodding a curt goodbye. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
The Edge of Night Page 27