When Darkness Falls(18)

Haley laughed and pushed him away. “Nice as this is, I need to leave for work.”

“Stay home today. They’re not expecting you.”

“I already called and said I’d be in.” If she wanted to go back to school, she needed to put aside all the extra money she could. “Did you miss me that much?”

“I did,” Devon said.

“I missed you, too.” She took her mug to the sink. “So, where were you last night?”

“Last night?”

Devon followed her into the galley kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and peered inside. “That was me in bed, remember?”

“I mean when I first got home. You weren’t here.”

Keeping his back to Haley, Devon poured himself a glass of orange juice. “I didn’t know you’d be back last night.”

“I know.” Haley got her jacket from the front closet. “I wasn’t mad you were gone. I wondered where you were.”

Devon took his orange juice back to the table. “Do you have to know everything I do?” He flipped open his laptop and hit some keys. Haley couldn’t tell what he was doing, other than trying to avoid talking to her. Her stomach dipped, the same feeling she’d gotten many times over the years with Brian.

I can’t keep comparing him to Brian.

“No.” She grabbed her keys and purse from the side table.

Devon put both hands under the table, and his forehead creased.

“Devon?” she said. “Are you okay?”

He kept staring at the laptop screen. “I thought you had to be at work.”

Haley’s throat tightened, but she made herself speak. “Why won’t you tell me where you were?”

“Cigarettes,” he said. “I bought some cigarettes and walked around smoking them. I didn’t want to smoke inside because you’d smell it when you came home, and I’m supposed to have quit.”

She studied him. The area above his upper lip glistened with sweat. “You were out smoking cigarettes for an hour.”

“I wasn’t keeping track of time.”

“You’re sure that’s all?”

Devon banged the laptop shut. “Don’t you think I know what I was doing?”

“You’re acting so strange.”

“I’m not used to reporting every move to someone.”

“Fine.” Haley turned away. She didn’t remember any cigarette taste in Devon’s mouth last night, and she hadn’t smelled smoke on his clothes. Pointing that out now, though, would only make her late to work.

“Now you’re mad,” he said.

“No, I’m fine.”

Haley hurried down the steps, her CTA pass in her hand. She couldn’t force Devon to tell the truth. But she couldn’t ignore his lies. With Brian, she’d had bad feelings about things and always let it go, afraid to push when he responded with anger and indignation. Later, it was obvious she should have pushed. She might have saved herself years of living with someone who lied constantly, and a lot of anxious moments after they split and she waited for the results of HIV and other tests. Brian had sworn he’d been careful with the other women, but she could hardly take his word for anything.

She wasn’t going down that path again.





Chapter Eight


Haley ran up the concrete steps at the Polk Street Red Line exit. She’d tried calling Devon on her lunch hour, and he hadn’t answered. He’d ignored her texts. She told herself that was better. They couldn’t solve this via electronic messages. She also didn’t want to talk with her coworkers around. But she had to figure out what was going on and tell Devon how she felt.

She found a note on the kitchen table telling her he was downstairs tending bar. She frowned. She didn’t want to talk to him in The Underground. It would be noisy, and they’d be interrupted all the time. Hanging around the apartment would be a waste of time, though. She wouldn’t be able to keep her mind on anything else.

Devon wasn’t behind the bar. He was on stage with a few other musicians, his fingers flying as they jammed to an old blues tune. He saw her, smiled, and lifted his left hand off the fret board for a quick wave.

Al came through the double doors that led to the kitchen and offices. A smile creased his round face as he hugged her. “Hi, honey. How was your trip?”

She hugged back, relaxing a little. “Good. Thanks.”

Al motioned to the stage. “Sounds great, huh? Want to join them?”

“I have no idea how to play blues.” Her guitar playing was mostly limited to the bass-strum, bass-strum suitable for old-time country tunes or the fingerpicking that went with folk music. In other words, she knew best how to play music she didn’t like.

“It’s not that different,” Al said. “You could learn.”

“Maybe. How long have they been playing?”

“Few minutes.”

Al made her a wine spritzer with Chardonnay and 7up. “I want to talk to you,” he said.

Haley turned away from the stage. “What?”

Al’s eyebrows drew together. “You two watch the news?”

She shrugged. “Some.”

“There was another woman murdered. Strangled. Like the ones in Bucktown and Lincoln Park.”