Twenty-Five Years Ago Today (22 page)

"All Kris asked is why you got involved with
him," Eric said.

"He didn't hurt me back then. I knew him my
whole life. How was I supposed to know he was a monster? And you
can tell the cops that. He's a monster with a capital M."

Headlights flashed through the window.
Sparky's ears shot straight up and a snarl rumbled deep in his
throat. He sprinted to the front door.

"Oh, shit," Gina mumbled. "Vince."

Fists pounded on the metal part of the screen
door. "Gina! Open up! I want my damn key."

Her eyes wide, Gina turned to Eric. "Come
with me. Please."

Eric strode into the kitchen. Kris hurried
after him, Gina at her heels. She stood against the wall and laid a
reassuring hand on Gina's quivering shoulder.

"What the hell did you tell the cops?" Vince
yelled through the door.

Gina squeezed her eyes shut as if summoning
her strength. "That's what you get for hitting me!"

"Who's here, Gina? I saw the car, I know
someone's here."

"People working with the police. If you don't
get lost, we'll call the cops, I swear to God."

Eric opened the door a crack, keeping the
chain fastened. "Leave her alone."

"You! Is your girlfriend here, too? Hey, you
in there, doll?" Vince hollered over the steady barking. "How about
coming out to play?"

Ignoring Eric's warning look, Kris stalked
closer to the door. "Yeah, I'm here, Rossi," she called back. "If
you don't leave, we're getting the police over here, too."

"If you drag me into Di's murder, you're
gonna pay."

"Why, do you have something to hide?" Kris
shouted.

"Bitch. Both of you gals are bitches. Hey,
Gina, you'd better wise up. You can't make it without me." Vince
booted the door with a harsh clank.

Eric pushed Kris behind him, blocking her and
Gina with his body. They waited in tense silence. Kris grabbed the
phone, ready to dial 911. She let out her breath as the car
screeched out of the driveway.

"We're calling the police," she said.

Gina snatched away the phone and cradled it
against her breast. "No."

"What do you mean?" Eric asked. "You're not
safe here."

"Vince loves me. He wouldn't hurt me -- no
more than he usually does." Gina wiped her mascara-rimmed eyes with
a crumpled tissue. Nicotine stains climbed down her knobby hands.
"He's never done anything except rough me up."

"But Gina-" Kris began.

"Last time he hit me, Vince took me to a bed
and breakfast down the Cape. He was so sorry. You don't know how
sweet he can be."

Kris turned away to think, and fingered a
dusty bowling trophy on the mantel. Had Diana seen that "sweetness"
too? Maybe she'd believed she could change him and make Vince
loving all the time. "You deserve better than this."

Gina pushed back her frizz with both hands.
"You don't understand. Vince is right. I can't make it without him.
We'd had a bad fight, so I decided to teach him a lesson and get a
restraining order. Then I saw the newspaper story. I figured the
cops would put a scare into him.

"I don't think he did it. Vince was real
shook up by Diana's death. How violent it was. I was the only one
who saw him vulnerable. With everyone else, he pretended not to
care. I think that's why the cops came down on him so hard back
then. I really screwed things up."

"What if he comes back?" Eric asked.

"He won't, not tonight. He'll go drinking
with his buddies, then pass out." Gina sighed. "It'll blow over,
and he'll move in again. He always does."

They stayed another twenty minutes, until
Gina had calmed down. Kris and Eric didn't speak much on the way to
her apartment except when they stopped to order Chinese
take-out.

But neither felt like eating after they got
home. Eric left the white cartons on the kitchen table and
collapsed beside her on the couch. He leaned forward and stroked
the sides of his face. "Maybe we should give up."

Kris pinned him with an incredulous stare.
"You’re kidding me, right? After all this?"

"Vince is dangerous. Whoever made the call is
dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt."

"For God's sake, Eric, we can't let some
pathetic jerk like Vince Rossi, or a crank caller, scare us off.
We've hit a nerve."

"I don't want you getting hurt," he
repeated.

"I can take care of myself. If you want to
quit, fine. I'm staying on the case."

"Why are you so damn driven to solve this
mystery? So far, this investigation has cost you your job. Do you
want to risk your life, too?"

Kris laced and unlaced her fingers. "If
necessary."

He tugged the ends of his hair. "Jesus, Kris.
Do you think my family wants that? Do you think my grandmother can
take one more tragedy? Don't be crazy. Diana was my aunt, not
yours. This has gone far enough."

"No!" She jumped up and paced a trail past
her reclining cat.

"It has something to do with Nicole, doesn't
it? You can tell me."

"No. I can't."

"You're shutting me out again. I think we can
have something special together, but we have to trust each other
first."

Her pulse drummed, beating against her
throat. "I ..." The words stuck in her vocal cords. It would be
such a relief to say them. Finally.

Eric moved over to her. Deep worry lines
etched his forehead. He massaged her wrist, giving her as long as
she needed.

She loved him. God, how she loved him. Kris
couldn't hide this secret from Eric any longer. Either he'd
understand ... or he wouldn't.

"I ... I ... it was my fault," Kris burst
out. "If I hadn't been selfish, Nicole wouldn't have been killed in
the first place."

He hugged her and smoothed down her ponytail.
Kris pressed her head into his shoulder. Now that she had started,
she couldn't hold back. "We were walking home from school. I was
jealous that Nicole wanted to make new friends and was chummy with
my sister, Holly."

She told him about her lie in trembling fits
and starts. Eric remained silent, his arms folded around her
waist.

"Our neighbor, Randolph Coltraine, saw her
walking home in the rain and offered her a ride," Kris said. "We
think she tried calling her mother from the ice cream place, but
Aunt Susan had gone out with a friend, then had car trouble. Nicole
got impatient and left on her own. Coltraine had just moved in a
few months ago, and no one knew him that well. I thought he was
weird. I never would've gone with him."

"Nicole made a bad decision. It wasn't your
fault."

"I put her in that situation. It's not fair.
You make one mistake, just do one thing wrong ..."

"You were twelve," Eric said. "Kids do dumb
things. Believe me, I'm around them every day. There was no way you
could know something horrible would happen."

"There's more. After my parents told me
Nicole was dead, for just a second, I was relieved she couldn't
tell. What does that say?"

"That you're human and it took awhile for
reality to sink in. Your world had been shattered. The mind has
built-in defense mechanisms."

Kris dried her eyes on her sleeve. "I wanted
to tell my parents the truth, but it upset my mother when I
mentioned Nicole. I knew she'd be happier not knowing. I almost
confessed to my father, but I couldn't do it. He's happier in the
dark, too. Eventually, I stopped thinking about Nicole every day,
but I've had insomnia and nightmares for years. The images won't go
away, no matter how hard I try to control them."

Eric touched her cheek, brushed the hollow of
her neck. "It must've been hard to bottle your emotions all these
years, but it's great that you finally had the courage to say it.
You've got to stop punishing yourself."

"You don't think I'm to blame?"

"Of course not, but I can see why you'd feel
that way as a kid. It's like my friend, Paul. He was the same age
when he blamed himself for his parents' divorce. It's easier to
feel guilty than powerless."

"What do you mean?"

"It's hard to accept things you can't
control. Especially for a kid, but you're not a kid anymore, Kris.
You've got to remember that Nicole made a mistake, too. She got in
a car with a man she barely knew, someone who should've raised a
red flag.
That
caused her death, not what you did."

"I hated her for being so trusting. So weak."
Kris wrestled away from Eric and circled the room, her hands webbed
into tight fists.

She heaved a throw pillow onto the floor and
Chipmunk scooted down the hall. "Why did Nicole get in the damn
car? Nothing would've happened if only she'd kept walking, or if
she’d waited at the restaurant until she reached her parents. I
wouldn't have had to live the rest of my life feeling like a ...
murderer."

Kris lowered herself onto the edge of the
couch, startled by the depths of her anger.

"Maybe you had more common sense than
Nicole," Eric said. "She had faults, just like you did, just like
everyone. You can't forget that. No one’s perfect."

"It hurts to be mad at her," Kris whispered.
"It's easier to hate myself. I'd give anything to turn back time
and be nice to her. Tell her how much she meant to me."

"Don't you think other people have that same
wish? Everyone has stupid arguments. My grandmother yelled at Diana
a few days before she died. She tried to sympathize, and Diana
accused her of prying, and they both lost their tempers. It haunts
my grandmother, but she's learned to focus on the good times. You
need to forgive yourself, too."

"I'll try, but I don't know if I can." Tears
welling in Kris's eyes, she began to sob. Eric drew her close and
she fell into his embrace.

Maybe this was what it meant to have a weight
lifted. Maybe it leaked out drop by drop in a rainfall of
tears.

Chapter 20

25 Years Ago Today

The Fremont Bicentennial Commission meets to
plan events for next year's celebration.

K
ris stared up at the
black rock palace. Red hot flames spewed from the turrets, belches
thundering like dynamite. She turned to see a ferry floating down
the sooty river.

A three-headed mongrel barked from a boulder,
surrounded by water. He yelped again, louder. Rusty iron gates
creaked open and the ferry slipped toward the dock.

Shrilling, the Furies soared out from between
stone walls. They whipped past Kris, snakes coiled around their
heads, hissing with forked tongues. White-faced, a young woman
stepped off the boat.

The scene changed to a dark forest. The girl
darted past Kris, clutching her silver bow. She reached out,
imploring. Branches sprung out of her feet, leaves out of her
hands.

Gasping, Kris woke up. Eric stirred in bed
beside her. She nestled against his warm back and threaded her
hands through the light hair matting his chest. What a bizarre
dream. She shuddered in her flannel pajamas. It hadn't been her
typical Nicole nightmare, but the images were frightening
nonetheless. She focused on the comforting rhythm of Eric's
breathing.

The ringing phone pierced through the
silence.

Eric rolled to face her, the mattress
squeaking. His eyes blinked open. "Who can that be?"

"I don't know." Kris propped herself on her
side and snapped up the receiver. "Hello?"

Heavy breathing.

"Who is this?" she asked.

Click.

She hung up and stared into the darkness.
"Maybe it was a wrong number."

"Let's hope so," Eric said.

The phone rang again.

He sat up, fully alert. "This is ridiculous.
Let me get it."

"No, it's better if I answer." Hairs
prickling on her neck, she scooped the phone off the hook.
"Hello."

Nothing at first. Then ...

"Leave it alone," a voice whispered. "I'll be
watching."

Kris flinched at the dial tone. She shut off
the ringer, trudged to the window in her bare feet and raised the
shade. Streetlights twinkled like fireflies on the dark road. "It
was him."

"I knew it," Eric said.

"I'm convinced it was a man."

"I don't want you involved in this mess
anymore."

She turned from the window. "We’ve been
through this. I won't let myself be intimidated. For all we know,
it could be that idiot Bruce."

Eric leaned against the headboard, the sheet
covering his chest. "What if it's Diana's killer?"

"If it is, he's won once, twenty-five years
ago. I won’t let him win again."

***

Before Eric left for school the next morning,
he made Kris promise to call Lieutenant Frank. The dispatcher
informed her that the lieutenant would be on duty later in the
afternoon. With nothing left to do, she stayed in her pajamas and
lounged in front of the TV.

Kris thumbed through an outdated
Fremont
Daily News
and stopped at the obit page. The reporters must be
annoyed at the extra work, especially Bruce. Most of the staff
treated typing obits and calendar listings as a personal insult.
Would the new editorial assistant write stories?

She snatched the remote control off the
coffee table. Stop thinking of the paper. Think of Eric. They had
held each other the rest of the night. Eric was so protective,
first of his family, now of her. He would rather sacrifice the
truth than jeopardize her safety. They had compromised. Eric would
relax as long as he accompanied Kris on interviews and she didn't
attempt anything foolhardy.

She couldn’t wait to see him. They'd take a
break from the case that weekend. Eric had invited her to Irene's
birthday dinner, a movie and to see his band perform. That was the
PG-rated version of their plans. They wouldn't manage an entire
weekend without a tryst. Like last night. Kris shivered at the
force of the memory.