The Edge of Night (26 page)

April gave him the information and moved on, needing to finish the story. “When I found out I was pregnant with Jenny, I was horrified. I’d been high on crystal meth for days. I thought I’d already … screwed her up.” She pressed her fist to her lips, trying not to cry. “The only person I told was Eric. He went with me to the clinic. The moment I saw Jenny on the ultrasound screen, I felt this … connection. I knew I wanted her. I wanted to change.”

Noah swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled her close, comforting her.

“I went home and packed my things,” she continued, feeling numb. “Raul caught me leaving and went crazy. Eric grabbed him by the arm, telling him to lay off because I was pregnant. He ignored Eric and slammed me against the wall, said I wasn’t going anywhere. When Eric tried to step in again, Raul pulled a gun on him. I ran away while they were arguing.” She met Noah’s steady gaze. “Eric saved my life.”

He lifted his hand to her cheek, stroking his thumb over her jaw. “I’m glad he was there for you. I wish I could have been.”

She took a deep breath, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes. “I’ve never talked about that. Not even with my mother.”

“Did you really believe I’d think less of you for it?”

She shrugged, looking away.

He held her chin, urging her to face him. “I don’t. I admire you for being able to turn your life around. I know how hard it is. Most teen mothers don’t even graduate high school, let alone go on to college. You’re a strong person. And a great mom.”

Her heart swelled at the words. After yesterday’s tragic events, she needed to hear that. With a muted cry, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her nose to his throat, sharing her emotions with him, letting him in.

He hugged her for a few moments, smoothing her hair while she cried. Then he cupped her face very gently and kissed the tears away. She kissed him back, moaning a little, and soon he was stretched out on top of her, slipping his hands inside her robe.

“Wait,” she said, tearing her mouth from his. “We can’t. Jenny will be up soon, and I don’t want her to see you.”

He groaned, resting his forehead on her collarbone. “Are you working tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll try to stop by the club, make sure you get home safe.”

April didn’t have to ask why. It was Friday: time for another murder.

She knotted the belt around her waist, watching him get dressed. When he sat at the edge of the bed to put on his shoes, she stared at his handsome profile, stifling the urge to lace her arms around his neck and nibble his ear.

“So … are we going to do this?” he asked, glancing at her.

“Do what?”

“Be together.”

The straightforward question shouldn’t have surprised her. He was always catching her off guard, slipping past her defenses. “What about Eric?” she asked, wanting to know where they stood on that issue.

His mouth hardened. “I’m still not comfortable with you accepting his money.”

“I was going to stop doing that anyway,” she said, furrowing her fingers through her hair. “I asked him to get out of the gang.”

“What did he say?”

“That he’s trying to get you information. I’m scared for him.”

Scowling, he rose to his feet. “I can’t promise anything, April. I let him off the hook once, and that was against my better judgment. He’s involved in illegal activities.” There was a tic in his jaw. “I can’t bend the rules just because you love him.”

She heard the jealousy in his voice, saw it in his fierce expression. Noah envied her emotional connection with Eric. Which was pretty ironic, considering that she was head over heels in love with
him
.

April almost gasped aloud at the realization. This morning she’d bared herself to Noah, body and soul. She’d told him about her darkest hour, her deepest shame. There was nothing left to hide behind. No more walls between them.

Although she wanted to reveal her feelings, she hesitated. It seemed like such a huge, frightening step.

And Jenny could wake up any second.

“We’ll talk about this later,” she said, her mind reeling.

At the door, he leaned in to kiss her, his mouth lingering on her lips. When he raised his head, she saw the raw emotion in his eyes. She waited for him to utter the words she longed to hear, the words she longed to say.

Perhaps because he thought she didn’t share the sentiment, he said only, “Goodbye.”

Not sure if she should feel relieved or disappointed, she locked the door behind him. Her chest ached with longing and her throat felt tight, as if she might burst into tears. Falling in love was terrifying.

Drying her sweaty palms on her robe, April went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. While she waited for it to brew, staring blankly at the upper cabinets, she remembered a box of photos she’d stashed in there one day.

Moving aside the flower and sugar tins, she found the box. She took it to the couch with her, bringing along a cup of coffee.

She’d barely opened it when she heard Jenny stir. “Mommy?”

April went to her room immediately. Jenny was wrapped up in the blankets, her hair adorably mussed. “Yes,
pepa
?”

“I need help getting up.”

Smiling, April held out her hand. When Jenny grabbed it and pulled her down on the bed, April tickled her until she screamed for mercy. Then she hugged her daughter tight, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“Why are you crying, Mama?”

She kissed the top of her sweet head. “Because I love you so much. It makes me mushy.” Wiping the tears away, she sat forward, gesturing for Jenny to climb on her back. “Piggyback,” she said, giving her a ride to the couch.

“What’s this?” she asked, seeing the box.

“Some old pictures.”

“Can I look?”

“Yes.”

April had brought the box with her when she left Raul, but she’d never gone through it. Not all of the photos were appropriate for Jenny’s eyes. The first showed April and a couple of girlfriends, their hair sprayed into stiff peaks, hands forming gang signs.

She put the picture back in the stack before Jenny recognized her.

April hadn’t been a true member of CVL. Raul had been adamant about her not joining. Girls were either jumped in or “sexed” in—literally gangbanged. He had refused to allow it. April guessed she should be grateful for that small favor.

She handed Jenny another photo, pushing those memories aside.

“Who’s this?”

“Your grandfather,” she said, studying it with her. “My dad.” Mariano Ortiz was kneeling next to a blue El Camino, his arms crossed over his chest in a proud pose. He was only twenty when he died. Next, April gave Jenny a black-and-white photo of Josefa, gorgeous and lush at eighteen.

“Is that you, Mama?”

“No, it’s Abuelita. Does it look like me?”

“Uh-huh.”

There were many photos of Raul, and they caught Jenny’s full attention. She pored over each one, as if the secret to his short existence could be solved by her intense concentration. Many showed Raul in his typical state—surrounded by a rowdy crew of young men, a forty-ounce bottle of beer in his hand.

April watched Jenny look at them, trying to gauge her reactions.

“Was my daddy sick, like Abuelita?”

“Yes,” April said, her heart twisting. “But he never got better.”

“Will Abuelita get better?”

“I hope so,
pepa
,” she said, smoothing her hair. “I sure hope so.”

23

Eric spent most of the day handling Raul’s
burial arrangements.

The cemetery plot cost a fortune. After spending most of his money on the least expensive spot available, he couldn’t afford a proper coffin or a fancy grave marker. For a fraction of the cost that the funeral home had quoted, he could get a simple pine box and a standard marble headstone in Tijuana.

He crossed the border to pay for the items and pick up his mother. They waited for two hours at San Ysidro, the sun beating down relentlessly, street vendors peddling
paletas
while his mother wept into an embroidered hankie.

When they were finally across the checkpoint, he stepped on the gas, picking up speed. With the coastal breeze drying the sweat from his T-shirt, Eric broke the other bad news to her. “Grandma has to go back with you,” he said in Spanish. “I can’t take care of her anymore.”

She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Why,
m’ijo
?”

“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 the 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.