'Mya, I'm so sorry for your father…I…he was a good person.'
'I know he was good,' she shouted. 'So why did he have to die?' She came toward me, didn't hesitate, and suddenly Mya was leaning against my chest. Not in an embrace, but for support.
There was no strength in her. If I moved she would collapse.
But I didn't move. I couldn't.
'Mya, I'm going to find this guy. I promise. I'm sorry for everything I've done, everything I did.'
She looked up at me. Her eyes blinked twice. She sniffed.
'You told me you would always be there for me,' she said.
My stomach burned as I drew in a breath. Then her eyes opened, I saw a fire in them, as she pounded her fists against my chest and screamed, 'Where were you, Henry? Where were you when I lost everything? When my fucking father died? Where have you been? '
She brought her fists down on my chest, punching me with no force behind the blows. Then I took her arms and held them.
'I'm going to help you,' I said. 'I'm going to help you get your life back together. You've always been one of the strongest people I've ever known, Mya. And you can come back.
You can do great things.'
'I have nobody,' Mya cried softly. 'I lost you. I lost my father.'
'You didn't lose me,' I said gently. 'You didn't want me.
We weren't right together. You don't want me. You haven't for a long time. But I can help you. I will help you.'
'I just want to be happy,' Mya said. She wiped her eyes.
A piece of lint from her sweatshirt caught on her eyelash. I plucked it free. She laughed through her sobs. 'You used to make me happy, Henry.'
I didn't know how to respond. Mya's arms had freed themselves, and I felt them wrap around my waist. Mya hadn't been this close to me in a long time. Yet there were no sparks. I held her like I would hold a small child. For comfort. For protection.
I wanted to hate her. I wanted to ask why she said those things to Paulina, why she took our private life and made it public, why she threatened to ruin us both. But I also wanted to squeeze all the pain from her body. Because she didn't deserve any of it.
Before I could think, I felt Mya's breath on my face; harsh, sweet. She leaned in. I wanted to stop her but I couldn't.
Couldn't say no to her right now. I felt her breath, didn't want it like this. But I couldn't break this girl's heart one more time. Her breath touched my lips, I wasn't going to stop her, and then they pressed against mine, hot and needy.
'You've got to be fucking kidding me.'
My body went rigid. I pried myself from Mya's grip. Her hands slid off me. She'd heard the voice, too. I was afraid to turn around, but I had to.
Amanda was standing on the corner. Watching us. A bag of groceries lay at her feet. Where she'd dropped them.
'No. No, no, no no no. You have got to be fucking joking,' she said. She left the groceries and started toward us with a frightening urgency. I tried to open my mouth but nothing came out.
'Amanda,' I said. It's not what it looks like. I can explain. Of course I would say those things. Isn't that what every guy said?
'You goddamn whore, ' Amanda spat. 'You drag him through your filth and then you come to our house to spread it around?
Get the fuck out of here, you disgusting tramp.' Mya took a step toward Amanda, like she might do or say something, but then she turned and ran away. I turned back to Amanda.
'Wait,' I said.
'So was she wearing perfume?' Amanda asked, her eyes wild, searching for some crazy answer. 'Tell me she drugged you, that she had a gun, that she's the lunatic who's killing all those people and offered to sleep with you for the scoop.
Tell me something other than you were just standing here playing tonsil hockey with the girl who dragged your name through the mud. Tell me there's more to it.'
'Her father was killed,' I said. 'I didn't know what to do.'
'No, you knew what to do. You decided to be hero Henry fucking Parker and swoop in for the rescue. Is that your M.O. now? You find these damaged girls and pretend to be their savior until the next basket case comes along? Is that what you did with me? You were tired of Mya so when I happened by you figured you'd take my broken ass for a spin?'
'It's not like that and you know it. I love you, Amanda.'
'Then why were you kissing another fucking girl? ' she shouted.
'I didn't…I…she held me,' I said, realizing how lame it sounded as soon as the words came out of my mouth.
Amanda looked back at the groceries. 'There's your dinner,' she said. 'Cook it yourself. Burn the apartment down.
I'm going to stay at the office tonight.' She turned and started to walk away.
'Amanda,' I said, following her. My head was spinning, my heart felt like it was about to burst. This couldn't be happening.
'If you follow me I'll call the cops and tell them Mya's girlfriend-beating ex is coming after me.' I stopped in my tracks, blinking rapidly. 'Try me,' she said. 'I swear I'll do it.'
Then her hand was in the air. A cab chugged up to the curb. I could feel the eyes of a dozen strangers watching the scene unfold. I watched as Amanda got into a cab, fleeing in a cloud of exhaust, leaving me alone on the street with a bagful of groceries.
30
I stood on the street corner. My feet tapped involuntarily.
My brain was running on about four gallons of caffeine, half of which probably hadn't even entered my bloodstream and would cause my eyes to pop out of their sockets any minute now.
I didn't sleep last night. I watched Amanda's cab drive off, picked up the discarded groceries, put them away neatly. I called Amanda. She told me not to call again. I didn't. Instead
I took a cab to her office, saw the light on, and stood outside all night just to make sure she was safe. She didn't need to know I was there. But I did.
The next morning I decided to visit Agnes Trimble.
It was 8:45 a.m. I'd already plowed through the Gazette and the Dispatch. A reporter had written an article about the growing public sentiment that the killer might have done a public service by killing four people. Tomorrow more ghouls would come out of the woodwork and celebrate this murderer, and soon it would cross over from print to radio to television.
Four lives were being trivialized, and a killer was being glorified. Undoubtedly reporters would eat each other to get the first scoop, pay loads of money to interview this beast.
Pretend to be appalled by the killer's deeds while cashing the checks he helped rake in.
I waited outside the department building for Agnes. She got off the bus, then dropped her keys when she saw me. I guess if I saw a guy with messy hair, dark circles under his eyes and a heroin addict's jitters waiting in front of my office
I'd be a little unnerved, too.
'Professor Trimble,' I said, trying to slow down my convulsions. 'Do you have a minute?'
'Mr. Parker,' she said, picking up her keys and smoothing out her clothes. 'My taking your appointment with Amanda did not give you a free invitation to show up uninvited before
