A Dark Mind (27 page)

“It’s unethical.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Who are you? When are you going to wake up and get it?”

“Get what?”

“That the world is not black and white. It’s fucking yellow and purple and gray and blue.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that the world is a kaleidoscope of colors, people, places, situations. People think they have to follow the stupid-ass
recipe because it’s in writing. If you don’t like salt, leave out the salt, for God’s sake!”

Jessica stiffened, praying that nobody else was listening to the crazy girl sitting across from her.

“Right and wrong—that’s what it all comes down to,” Hayley went on. “Plain and simple. Nothing else matters. If it feels wrong, it is wrong. If something you do,” Hayley said, pointing at Jessica, “hurts another person, causes them pain in one form or another, then it’s wrong. If something you do hurts no one but yourself, then you have a choice to make. Your choice. Not mine, not the guy over there jacking off in the corner, not Lizzy’s.”

“But what if it’s your job to find out information and you’re getting paid to do it?”

“Let them fire you. If something is wrong, then it’s wrong. Getting paid to hurt someone is double wrong. If Adele doesn’t want to be found, I’m not going to be the one to tell everyone where she is. Lizzy can hire someone else to find her if she doesn’t like it.”

Jessica sighed. Then she stood and said, “I get it. Can we go now?”

Carmichael

Saturday, June 2, 2012

By three o’clock, the Dalton garage was roped off as an official crime scene.

Lizzy and Jared stood outside the garage, looking in. It was raining again. An hour ago, the sun had looked as if it might make an appearance, but the dark clouds had won out and now the rain was coming down hard.

Lizzy had borrowed an umbrella from the garage. She’d been afraid to open it, afraid a zillion beetles would fall out onto the street, but this was her lucky day, she supposed, since the umbrella turned out to be bug-free.

Although she tried to share the umbrella with Jared, he kept coming and going, talking on his phone one minute, and then instructing the technicians the next. At the moment, he stood at her side as water dripped down his face and off his nose and chin.

“So, what do you think?” Lizzy asked him.

“Definitely a connection between the Lovebird Killer and the Daltons,” he said. “Might be a bigger connection than even you imagined.”

“What do you mean? They’re not pointing their finger at Michael, are they?”

“Lizzy,” Jared said in a tone he usually used on Hayley, “what is it with you and this Michael guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re very protective of him and you supposedly met him…what…a total of three times?”

“What do you mean
supposedly
? I met him three times.”

“I talked to Greer. He said that you met with Stacey Whitmore, the reporter, at her home in Granite Bay.”

“I did. What about it?”

“What did she say about Michael Dalton?”

“Stacey says he’s about as good as any man can be.”

“She’s married to Dan Whitmore, the divorce lawyer who is in the news more often than not.”

“That’s right. I believe he’s also serving as a consultant for the popular nighttime drama
Cheaters
. I haven’t met Dan, but Stacey
did share one of their family albums with me. Stacey Whitmore and Michael Dalton dated in college, but that relationship ended when Michael met Jennifer. The two remained friends, and both couples have been enjoying family vacations together for years.”

“They were having an affair,” Jared blurted.

“What?” Lizzy was completely thrown off guard. “Who?”

“Jennifer Dalton and Dan Whitmore.”

Lizzy couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Jared didn’t say anything more, he merely stood in the rain and let the information settle in until Lizzy probed further.

“I’m assuming Greer just gave you the news?”

He nodded.

“That bitch.”

“Who?”

“Jennifer Dalton, who else?”

“What about Dan Whitmore?”

“He’s an asshole, but that goes without saying. What about Stacey?” she asked.

“What about her?”

“Did she have any idea?”

“She’s known about the affair for years.”

Lizzy stood there and let it all sink in. “Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t think this information is going to help Michael’s case much.”

“I think not.”

Lizzy gestured toward the garage. “I guess this makes Michael Dalton look like a jealous and angry man and now, with the bugs, also your prime suspect?”

“Possibly.”

“I’ve been working my ass off trying to free a serial killer?”

“It’s too early in the game to go down that road, Lizzy. If not for you, we wouldn’t be standing here now in front of the Daltons’ garage. Give yourself a pat on the back instead. Will you do that?”

She snorted.

“Just this once?”

“Don’t worry,” she finally said. “I’m not going to blame myself for every crazed lunatic out there.” As Lizzy stood there watching the technicians gather evidence, she realized the idea of Michael Dalton being the Lovebird Killer did not compute. She had looked into the eyes of a serial killer for months on end—flat, empty, lifeless eyes. Michael Dalton was not a killer, and nobody, not even the man she loved, could convince her otherwise.

“I’m not perfect,” Jared said, “but I’ll promise you one thing.”

She lifted the umbrella higher so she could get a good look at him as he spoke.

“I’ll never lie to you. And I would never cheat.”

“I know,” she said. And it was true. If there was one thing in this godforsaken world that she could count on, it was Jared Shayne. She never had to question his love for her. Before she could offer him any promises of her own, his cell rang and he put the phone to his ear and walked away.

I took her bra and panties off and had sex with her. That’s one of those things I guess that got to be a part of my life—having sexual intercourse with the dead.

—Henry Lee Lucas

Davis

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

After disconnecting the motion sensor Jared had installed, Hayley opened the window and crawled out. As she shut the window, she felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of leaving the house unsecured. Not wanting to disturb any dogs in the neighborhood, she walked as fast as she could without letting her heels clap too hard against the pavement. She’d asked Tommy to meet her at the corner of Meadow and Leighton. At first she thought he might have chickened out, but then she saw him sitting on the curb near his bike. He wore all black and blended into the night. Until this moment, she’d never seen him wearing anything other than bright colors.

An unfamiliar fluttering of excitement raced up her spine.

“Hi,” she said as she approached, feeling twitches of happiness, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“Hi,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.

She let her gaze roam down to his boots. “The whole black thing looks good on you.”

“Thanks.”

He unhooked an extra helmet from his bike and handed it to her. “We should get going before the neighborhood wakes up and comes out here to see what’s going on.”

He climbed on the bike first.

She put on her helmet, fastened the chin strap, and hooked a leg over the seat. She barely had time to latch onto him before he turned on the ignition and took off. She held tighter. Maybe that was his plan. Either way, she didn’t care.

She was enjoying herself.

The air smelled crisp and fresh. She was free.

For thirty minutes, she held her arms snug around his waist as he headed down a maze of dark and narrow streets. When they finally slowed, he turned onto a dirt road. It was long, windy, and steep, and she had to use muscles she didn’t know she had to keep from falling off the back of the bike. Once they reached the top of the hill, he turned off the ignition.

She climbed off and so did Tommy. No words were spoken between them as he opened a bag hooked to the tank, pulled out a blanket, and laid it out on the ground. They both lay flat on their backs and stargazed. The night was cool. The rain had stopped hours ago.

“I’m glad you called me,” he said, gazing upward.

Hayley didn’t know what to say to that. She wanted to thank him, but that sort of thing did not come easily to her, if at all. Every emotion inside her felt raw and new. Anger she could handle. Disappointment, fear, sadness, she knew them well, but surprise and joy—not so much. One thing for sure, it felt good to be free.

They both lay straight and stiff, arms at their sides.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

Frogs croaked in the distance.

“I am,” she said. “I’m OK.”

“Life is strange,” he said next.

“How so?”

“The two of us here right now, stargazing. Didn’t see that coming.”

She smiled. “Do you come here often?”

“I’ve been coming here for years.”

Silence.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever brought here with me,” he said.

“I’m flattered.”

He laughed.

“You’re a contradiction,” she told him. “Color coordinated one day and all black and mysterious the next.”

“I don’t try to be anything I’m not. I just go with the mood. I’m far from mysterious.”

She tried to find a constellation and finally gave up. “What made you become a karate expert?” she asked.

“I grew up being bullied—verbally and physically. Those kids you hear about who had their lunch taken from them? That was me. Every single day the bullies came after me.”

“What about your family?”

“They’re great—Mom, Dad, two sisters—but they couldn’t help me.”

“Why not?”

“For years I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want to upset my parents. My sisters figured it out when they saw firsthand what was going on at school. They tried to help when they could, but at my particular school there were more bullies than not. One of my sisters finally told Mom and Dad, but my parents had no idea how
bad it had gotten, not until I ended up in the hospital in my junior year of high school.”

“What happened?”

“A few broken bones, a cracked rib. My straight aristocratic nose has not been the same since.”

His attempt at humor didn’t work. “So, you started taking karate lessons?”

“My dad brought a friend to the house—a karate expert named Kyro. He gave me private lessons, taught me everything I know. After I returned to school, it wasn’t long before I had the chance to show a few kids what I’d learned over the summer. Things improved after that, but I refused to change. I didn’t want to dress differently just to fit in. By then, I didn’t want to fit in, period. I didn’t mind being different. In fact, I always found myself drawn to the kids who danced to their own music.”

“And that’s what you do, isn’t it? Befriend misfits, people like me?”

“Is that what you are, a misfit?”

“I don’t like to put labels on people, especially on myself,” Hayley answered. “I’m sure I have misfit qualities, though. I’m an introvert and I tend to follow my own beliefs. If people don’t like me, that’s their problem. I don’t intentionally go out of my way to hurt people. Although I’m sure you heard that I cut off a man’s penis, I’m not insane. He deserved everything he got.”

“Did you feel better afterward?”

“No.”

“Would you do it again if you had the chance to go back in time?”

“I wouldn’t want to find out.”

The stars were incredibly bright, Hayley thought. She was actually living in the moment and she liked it. Her breathing was slow and even as awareness settled over her: the croaking of frogs,
the woodsy smell after a good long rain, and the feel of his warm hand settling upon her left hand.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about his hand being on hers. She didn’t like people touching her, but his fingers felt warm, so she let it be.

Sacramento

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Early Wednesday morning, Stacey Whitmore marched into Lizzy’s office on J Street in Sacramento. She was dressed in a tweed suit jacked trimmed with fringe and a matching skirt. Her expression was grim, her face pale. “You have to help him,” Stacey said as the door closed behind her. “You can’t abandon Michael now, when he needs you most.”

Lizzy angled her head. “Are you kidding me?” She stabbed a finger toward Stacey and added, “You’re the one who deserted him. The moment you lied to me, you muddled the facts and lost all credibility. Get out of my office.”

Stacey didn’t seem to be afraid or intimidated by anyone. A grizzly bear could appear out of thin air and the woman wouldn’t flinch. She stepped closer to Lizzy’s desk, her expression unwavering. “Michael is innocent,” she said. “Nothing else matters.”

“Are you in love with Michael Dalton?”

“Yes.”

“Is he in love with you?”

“No.”

“His wife was sleeping with your husband,” Lizzy said. “More than likely, she would still be sleeping with him if she wasn’t dead. But you are determined to help Jennifer’s husband?”

“Because he’s innocent.”

“Justice for all. That’s all that matters?”

“That’s right.”

“Why would you go to all the bother of getting me involved and yet not arm me with all the information you had?”

“Because I knew if I told you about the affair, Michael’s innocence would get lost in the middle of all the dirty laundry.”

Lizzy narrowed her eyes as she thought about Stacey’s answer. “How is your husband handling Jennifer’s death?”

“I wouldn’t know. I hardly ever see him. I’m sure he’s dealing with it the same way he’s always handled disappointment: drowning his sorrows in his work.”

“Does he believe Michael’s story?”

“Absolutely.”

“So, I take it you and Michael both knew that your significant others were messing around?”

She nodded.

Lizzy wasn’t sure what to think about that, so she let it go for now. “Please explain to me why you are so intent on me being the one to help Michael.”