When Darkness Falls(63)

Devon stared at Lydia, and something in his mind shifted. A wall slid into place between this moment and the events from earlier in the evening. And everything Lydia had said, every doubt Devon had, was safe behind that wall.

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “I feel sorry for you.”

And he did. He felt sorry for her delusions, her desperation, and her anger.

“You’re the one who’ll be sorry,” Lydia said.

Devon ignored her and walked toward what looked like a busy street a few blocks down. He didn’t think Lydia would follow him into a populated area. He didn’t think she wanted her life subjected to public scrutiny, no matter what she said about the ineptness or disinterest of the police. When he reached a busy intersection, he’d call for a cab as he’d done when he’d arrived in L.A. what seemed like a decade ago. He didn’t know how he’d gotten to this church tonight, or what exactly to do next, but he knew he needed to find Haley.

She would make everything all right, would make him feel whole again. Alive.

“I’ll find her first,” Lydia said.

? ? ?

Haley exited the freeway, slowed the car to forty-five miles per hour, and loosened her grip on the wheel for the first time in an hour. Her left shoulder and arm ached from being slammed to the ground and against the wall. She peered into the rear and side view mirrors for the hundredth time. No one seemed to have followed her, though it had been hard to tell one set of headlights from another on the freeway until the cars came very close.

For twenty minutes after seeing Devon and Lydia together, Haley had driven surface streets without any idea where she was going. She’d finally pulled over, too shaken to continue. She’d expected to cry, but she hadn’t. It was too terrible to cry over. Her head and eyes ached and felt as swollen as if she had wept. She didn’t know if Devon had been sleeping with Lydia all along. Or if they’d just now had a moment. That’s what she wanted to believe.

You are so na?ve.

Even Brian, when it came down to it, had not tried to say his cheating was the fault of the women. So Haley could hardly make that excuse for Devon. No one had made him seek out Lydia. No one had made him stay in L.A.

So Haley drove toward the airport, ready to call her dad and ask him to book her a ticket home. When she saw the exit to the Enterprise lot near LAX, hot tears started. She slowed the car and put on her turn signal. There was nothing to hurry home to. The image of her tiny crowded studio apartment flashed in her mind. She’d need to get something similar or, worse, live with her mother, because her job was probably gone and her savings non-existent.

She drove past the Enterprise exit and found a place to turn around.





Chapter Thirty-One


It was only one more night. Haley no longer knew if she wanted Devon to return to her, but she loved him, and she needed to at least try her plan to convince him to get help.

Streetlights illuminated brush plants straggling along the sandy hills that lined either side of the roadway. Joe and Diana lived inland, not far from the aerospace plant where Joe worked for his day job.

The road twisted, and Haley slowed as she piloted the car around the curves. Traffic was minimal, though it was only late evening. She wished a few more people were around in case something happened, in case somehow Lydia found her here. But she didn’t see how Lydia could know anything about Joe and Diana or where Haley was, so she ought to be fine. Ought to be. But she now believed Devon that she was in danger. Definitely from Lydia. Maybe from him.

A few times Haley stopped, keeping one eye on the road for strange vehicles, to recheck the directions on her phone and cross-reference the Thomas Guide. She’d been to Joe and Diana’s many times, but Brian had always driven. At last, Haley pulled around the last turn and into the short driveway in front of the two-car garage. The rust-colored stucco house stood on a large section of land, something she had always liked about it, though the yard was all sand and brush plants like the hills around it.

She and Brian had often stayed here when they visited the west coast. The last time had been a little over two years ago, before Haley had discovered Brian’s philandering. She hoped the key was still in the same place, and that no neighbor called the police on her. Inside the toolshed, she retrieved the third coffee can from a shelf of cans full of various parts and odds and ends Joe used for antique car restoration. Haley spread nuts and bolts on the workbench. It took a few minutes, but she found the spare front door key among them.

The house had a warm, closed in feel not unlike that of the church’s gift store. The blinds were shut. The carpeting in the large living room/dining room had been vacuumed recently. Haley could still see the vacuum brush strokes. She set her bags down in the entryway, shot the deadbolt on the front door, and turned the air on low. She made sure all the windows were shut and, if possible, locked. At the far end of the living room, glass doors led to a patio. Haley checked the lock and the burglar bar at the base of the sliding door. Both were secure. She suspected the door was still too easy a way to get in, but there was nothing more she could do.

Joe and Diana had updated their kitchen with dark granite counters and stainless steel appliances. Copper pots and pans hung on the wall over the stove. The rest of the place had a dry, Southwestern look Haley usually didn’t like. A lot of cacti, beige, and turquoise. At the moment, though, it felt peaceful. A dark purple Georgia O’Keefe print hung over the fireplace. Haley walked to it, remembering sitting below it with Brian and running through songs for their set the following evening. Things had been difficult, with Haley pushing to get married, yet not really sure why she thought that would make things better, and Brian resisting. She remembered looking around the house with longing. Everything fit together so well, rather than the mix of garage sale and Ikea furniture she and Brian had owned. Which was not much different from what she and Devon owned now. But with Devon, she’d felt like they had a real home together. Had. Already she was using past tense.