I hated so much.”
“Is that when it happened?”
“No. I left and went back home and held my mother’s hand for the next few months while she died at home.”
She wanted to reach out to him, but he stood and moved away from her. His arms crossed over his chest and the Do Not Touch sign was back up. “I’m so sorry.”
“You would have liked her,” he said over his shoulder. “She was sweet. Very relaxed about life in general. I knew it hurt her to lose him, but she carried that pain around with her like a badge of honor.”
“That you could see that in her must mean you were very observant. I’m still trying to imagine the little boy. I bet you were serious.”
“I was,” he admitted sheepishly.
“I can imagine,” she chuckled.
“Not like now,” he corrected. “But I didn’t let go, have fun as easily as the rest of the other boys. I suppose it’s my nature. But the control, mastering my emotions, my anger, my rage, that all came from prison.”
Her smile gone, she pressed. “Finish it.”
“After she died I bounced around. I was in L.A. At some bar with a bunch of guys, boys really, but we thought we were bad. We hated the world and the world hated us. It was how I felt about life. I was boozed up and in more pain than I knew what to do with. Then he walked in. Total coincidence. And really bad timing. I told him he killed her. I told him it was his fault. But really it wasn’t. I should have worked harder to get her to see a doctor or found some way to get my hands on more money. I could have saved her.”
“You couldn’t have.” This time, Caroline ignored the warning signs and stood to walk toward him. She didn’t touch him, but she left little space between their bodies. “At least let that go. After all these years, please know that you couldn’t have stopped what was happening to her body. Not without her help. It sounds like she didn’t want to fight.”
“She didn’t,” Dominic said. “But why? Why not at least try to live? For me.”
“I can’t answer that. Neither can you. But you’re walking around with twenty-year-old guilt. It must be heavy. Let it go.”
He ran his hands over his face and inhaled. “I picked the fight. We took it outside and I whaled into him with every ounce of strength I had in my fists. I spilled my anger all over him until the cops showed up and dragged me off his unconscious body.” He paused and took a step away from her. “You need to know that, Caroline. What’s living inside of me. I didn’t even know I was capable of it until then. I had never felt that kind of rage before. But that night I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t see past it. I was out of control.”
“You were also drinking.”
Dominic shook off her excuse. “That was the least of my problems. If anything it helped. Being drunk, I couldn’t see clearly enough to land all of my punches. It was probably the only thing that saved his life, and mine for that matter.”
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. I guess they took him to a hospital. They took me to jail. Then a lawyer came in to tell me that the man I had attacked was pressing charges. I explained that he was my father, but that didn’t seem to matter. Turns out it’s not exactly legal to beat up your biological father. They gave me a public defender and the next thing I remember was the judge’s gavel hitting the table sentencing me to eighteen months.”
Tears welled in her eyes. He’d been a boy. An angry boy who had lost his mother. She wanted to rail at the injustice. She wanted to find his father and hurt him again. But that was done and if there was one thing she was certain of in life, it was that you had to look forward. It had taken her a long time to get there after her parents had died, but she was finally making steps.
“That’s it, then. So what happens next?”
Dominic looked at her. “Next?”
“Next. You told me why you left. You told me why you went to jail. You told me you didn’t kill Denny and I believe you. That means that someone else did. I’m guessing you have your theories. For that matter, I have some, too. Lucky for you, you married a mystery writer.”
“This isn’t a story in one of your books.”
“I’m not suggesting it is. Nor do I want to play the role of amateur detective. The first thing we need to do when we get back to San Jose is call the police.”
“No,” he said sharply.
“Dominic what choice do you have? You’re innocent. I know it. Your sister knows it. They’ll find out who did this and in the meantime you’ll…”
“I’ll be in jail,” he growled. “I don’t think you understood what I was trying to tell you before. I can’t go back.”
“But it’s temporary,” she reasoned.
“This isn’t a question of not wanting to,” he tried to tell her. “I. Can’t. Go. Back.”
“So that’s it?” she asked, frustrated. “We forget all of this and leave. A life on the run. You and me on a beach in Mexico living under an assumed name.”
He didn’t answer. As the seconds ticked by and his grim expression didn’t change, she finally understood. For as much as he’d hurt her already, it was still a surprise each time. Like he’d just kicked her out of bed again. The disappointment she felt was numbing and she was transported back to last night standing on her doorstep, weary to the bone with no hope for a happy ending. “You never had any intention of taking me with you.”
“I needed to get you out of California. I needed you to be safe.”
“Why?” she pushed. “Why did you care?”
If it was possible his eyes darkened even further. “You need me to answer that?”
Caroline thought about it. “Yes. I do. A few minutes ago you said you would follow me to the ends of the earth, but now you’re disappearing again. You’re always leaving me, pushing me away. Somehow. Do you really care about me?”
He moved but she stepped back out of his reach. “Caroline.”
“What?” she barked even as she took more paces back. “You want me to believe something else? Then tell me.”
Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not leaving to go to Mexico. I need to go back to California. I need to find out who did this. I need to know if Denny’s program is out there somewhere. I told you in the wrong hands it could be dangerous.”
She had to force herself not to roll her eyes. “Don’t give me the dangerous software program bull. Fine. If you don’t want to go to the police, then-”
“I
It was as if she flipped some switch in him. The control he exercised over every gesture was gone. His arms spread out and then his fist slammed into his bare chest.
“This isn’t some game with me. Prison took everything out of me, can you understand that? No, you can’t! You were shut up here in your little ivory tower writing your stories having control over your characters’ actions and emotions. I had no control. None!”
His breathing was ragged and Caroline found herself torn between the desire to go to him or run away.
“Every minute of every day was out of my control. Every second spent watching my back, my front. I used every instinct that I had ever been born with to survive. Everyone was the enemy inside. For seventeen months and twenty days, I was nothing. I couldn’t pick and choose the feelings I wanted to keep in there. I couldn’t stop the fear and the madness but keep everything else. All of it had to go. All of it. You said I was cold. You’re right. So I’m not going to the police. And I’m not going back to prison. But I have to find out what happened to Denny. I have no choice.”
“Then let me go with you,” she said quietly.
Her soft whisper took him off guard and immediately he checked himself. He’d shouted at her again. She’d done nothing but want an answer and he’d screamed at her like a man out of control.
“I’m sorry I yelled.”
