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“So, you got everything you ever wanted.” He shook his head. “And Chrissy’s dead now because she helped you escape.”
She dropped her arms. “Chrissy’s dead because she was a heroin addict.”
“Yeah, she was an addict, but she was also clean and sober.”
“So was my mom,” she spat, and there was the old bitter Darcy he remembered peeking out from under her polish. “For a while, every few months, she’d get clean, but then fucking Frank would hit her again and—” Her gaze shifted away from his as those tears spilled over. She slapped at them in annoyance. “We both know it only takes one time. One slip up.”
“No, not Chrissy. She was strong and determined. She was working the program. Before she died, she told a friend that the military had to be held accountable for her sexual assault. She said it happened to far too many women, and she wasn’t just standing up for herself—she was standing up for her best friend, too. When I heard that, I assumed she meant a military friend, but it was you. Because of what Mark and JT did to you.”
Darcy flinched.
“What really happened to her, Darce?”
She exhaled a long, slow breath and sat down on the snow-white couch stretching in an L across the living room. She didn’t speak right away. Just stared off into space and rubbed a hand back and forth over her round belly. “She just had to stay quiet about me. That was all I wanted, but then that fucking podcast came out and started pointing the finger at you again, and Chrissy said she was going to come clean. I told her it was no big deal. It would blow over like it always did—”
“No big deal?” He took a step forward, hands bunched into fists at his side, but stopped himself from touching her. That wasn’t why he was here. “I’ve lived with this hanging over my head for fifteen years, Darcy. I’ve woken up every morning since you disappeared, wondering if this would finally be the day I was arrested. I’ve lost friends, missed out on job opportunities, and the entire country thinks I got away with murder. My mom died thinking I was a killer. She never said anything, but I saw how she looked at me when she didn’t think I’d notice. Like she was afraid of me. Like I was my father’s son, after all. But, yeah, it’s no big deal that you’re alive. Fuck you.”
She burst to her feet, moving faster than a pregnant woman should be able to. “I couldn’t come back. You, of all people, know that town was hell for me. And after Mark and JT attacked me—I wanted you all to hurt as much as they hurt me.”
“Including Chrissy?”
“No! Chrissy was kind. Probably because she didn’t grow up in that cesspool like the rest of us. She found me beaten and brutalized and left to die, and she could’ve kept walking because she didn’t know me. She’d only been at our school for a few months. But she stopped and helped. She wanted to call the police and take me to the hospital, but I begged her not to. If I accused two of the town’s golden boys—one of them, the sheriff’s son—of rape and attempted murder, nobody would’ve believed me. So, Chrissy took me to her house.”
“And her parents didn’t notice?”
She lifted a shoulder. “She was like us. Her parents were never around and didn’t care what she was up to. They never knew I was there.”
“What about her brother, Tiago?”
“I never saw him. I don’t think he ever knew. I only stayed with her for a week until I was strong enough to leave. She stole money from her mom for me, and I made her promise she’d never tell anyone where I’d gone, then I got on a bus to LA and never looked back.” Her features twisted in disgust. “Until that podcast. And your therapy group and Chrissy’s twelve fucking steps. She thought we wronged you and wanted to make amends.”
“And you didn’t want to.”
“If the truth came out, I’d lose everything. My husband…” She looked down at her belly. “He doesn’t know where I came from. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I couldn’t risk losing him.” She stopped and drew a deep breath. “Last year, when he was in Japan on a business trip, I went back to Steam Valley to talk some sense into Chrissy. She wouldn’t listen, so I had to keep her quiet.”
“By sticking a fucking needle of fentanyl in her arm?”
She bent double over her belly. “I didn’t know it was tainted. I just remembered how my mom was, how she’d forget everything and only cared about her next high, and thought if I got Chrissy addicted again, she’d forget. I didn’t mean to kill her, Van.”
Donovan closed his eyes and rubbed his chest because it felt like his heart was cracking in half. Part of him, the damaged boy he’d once been, still loved the damaged girl she’d been. “God, Darcy. She was your friend.”
“Oh, don’t give me that holier-than-thou bullshit. You’d have done the same in my position because we’re the same brand of fucked-up.”
He opened his eyes and studied her—and, yeah, there was the ugly. It had always been in her. She could dress it up and polish it, but she’d never shed it. It had been one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place because he’d always thought it was in him, too. How could it not be, given their similar backgrounds?
But Sasha had shown him that wasn’t true. She’d seen good in him from the beginning, but he was only now starting to realize she was right. Yeah, he’d come from trash, but he’d never sacrifice an innocent life to save himself and move up in the world. Yeah, he was damaged, but Sasha loved him anyway.
And she was waiting for him so they could start a life together.
But first, he had to finish this.
He walked to the door and opened it. Ash waited on the other side. “Did you hear all that?”
“What?” Darcy said, panic in her eyes as she struggled to get off the couch. “Van! What have you done?”
“Loud and clear,” Ash said and stepped inside, his handcuffs already open. “Darcy Cantrell, you’re under arrest for the murder of Christina Jimenez.”
Donovan watched until the San Francisco PD cruiser disappeared down the street with Darcy inside, then exhaled the air trapped in his lungs.
