“Connor.”
I sighed. “Connor. You don’t understand. Tyler was all I had. If we had told someone, they would’ve taken me away from the only person I had left. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“I probably understand better than you’d think,” he said softly, and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I didn’t need you mentioning your life or Tyler telling me about your past to know what had happened. Within the first minute of questioning you, I knew you’d had nothing to do with the fire. Even if you had a rocky relationship and weren’t close with your mother and stepfather, you would still have been upset over their deaths and the loss of your childhood home. When you were neither, I knew.”
“How?” I asked quietly.
“Cassidy, only someone who would react that way to their own parent dying would understand your reaction.”
My brow furrowed and I looked around like the walls would be able to explain that confusing statement. When my gaze met his, I saw it, the tortured numbness. I inhaled sharply and started to reach for his arm but stopped myself. “You?”
He nodded slowly. “My mother was a junkie. I knew who she was, but she wasn’t around much. She’d sell herself to be able to afford her addiction, which is how my sister came along, and then me. Through all this, her husband stayed married to her. He didn’t do drugs and he didn’t drink; I wish he did so I could blame what he did on either of those. But he just hated us because we weren’t his, and because of what we represented. My sister was six years older than me, so for the longest time, she was the one who took all the beatings he dealt. When I was old enough to understand what was happening when she’d lock me in the closet, I started holding my own and taking my half of the beatings. She didn’t want to tell anyone, said what you told Tyler, that if we told anyone they would separate us. She said if we could make it until she was eighteen, she’d take me away and we’d start over.
“Then one night when I was seven he just lost it. He hit Amy so hard she wasn’t waking up and ended up breaking both my legs and my left arm. I waited until he went to his room, like he always did after, and dragged myself out of the trailer and tried to make it to the neighbor’s. I didn’t get that far, but someone from the park had been walking their dog and found me, called 911. I’d passed out, and with all the blood they had thought I was dead, so police, EMTs, and homicide detectives all came out. My father was arrested, and Amy and I were rushed to the hospital. All I remember from that night other than trying to make it to the neighbor’s trailer was waking up to one of the detectives sitting next to my hospital bed. He didn’t say a word to me then, but when I woke up the next day he told me he was going to make sure no one ever touched me or Amy again. He and his wife fought hard and were able to adopt both of us. To me, they are Mom and Dad.”
“Is he why you wanted to be a detective?”
Connor smiled his acknowledgment and his eyes went over my face. “I would never wish death on anyone, Cassidy, and like you, I wouldn’t blink if someone told me that man or my real mother was dead.” He stayed quiet for a few moments before speaking again. “I had to continue questioning you, even though I knew exactly what was going through your mind. But I hated every second. Looking at you, knowing what I’d come to realize, and seeing you with a black eye, I wanted to grab you and run you out of that house.”
“I don’t have a reason to lie to you now that you know the truth. I really was trying to break up a fight.”
“I know. Once I realized Tyler wasn’t your boyfriend, I sat there wondering who was so I could find him instead. But after Tyler basically spilled all your secrets and told us how you got the shiner, I figured it’d be pointless for him to lie about something like that. It’s not like he gave us the whole ‘she tripped’ excuse.”
I sighed and mumbled pathetically, “I’ve used that one before.”
He grimaced. “You really don’t talk about it often?”
“No. I mean, I told Tyler everything, but it was so he could figure out how best to take care of my injuries.”
“I didn’t open up for a long time, until I was almost sixteen I think, but once I finally did everything changed. I still don’t tell just anyone; you’re actually the first person I’ve told in a long time. But you need to relive it all and get everything out there, or else you’re never going to move past it. You may think you have, but it’ll always haunt you, Cassidy.”
Thoughts of how easily all my fears had surfaced when I saw Gage at the party that night came to mind. Connor was right, but I’d spent so long not talking, I didn’t know how, or if I even wanted to start now. “Did you have bones broken a lot?”
“That last night was the only time. Did you?” I don’t think he’d even realized it, but his eyes had slipped into that same intensity he’d had a little over a week ago in the Bradleys’ den.
“No, they were too smart to break anything. Had a lot of cracked ribs, but anything that would have required a cast they stayed away from. Stitches though . . . they didn’t seem to understand or care that people needed to get stitches.”
“Did that happen a lot?”
“Stitches? I needed them probably once a month or so, only ever got them a few times though. Tyler was good with butterfly bandages.”
Connor’s eyes widened for a moment and I bit my tongue.
“Uh, didn’t you ever need stitches?”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. Not until that last night.” He paused and then leaned closer, his face only inches from mine. “Cassidy, how often did you get hit?”
I began to back away but one hand snaked up and locked behind my neck.
“Cassidy, how often did they hit you?” he repeated, and that cool intensity in his stare held me where I was. What was it about that stare and those eyes?
“Every day. Is that—is that not like your situation?” I asked when his next breath was audible.
The hand on my neck squeezed lightly and he hung his head. “No. For us it was every two weeks or so.”
I mouthed the words he’d just said. I guess it was naïve, but I’d thought all kids who were abused had it pretty much the same as me. “Did you—” I suddenly broke off on a gasp and pushed back against his hand until he let go when he looked up at me from under his lashes. Oh my God, how could I have not recognized him?! I’d dreamed about that look, dreamed about those eyes!
“What?”
“You’re that cop!”
His eyes widened and he straightened slightly. “I didn’t think you recognized me.”
“You knew who I was and you didn’t say anything? You’ve just been acting like—like you cared?” I gasped again. “Were you even—” I backed away from him and grabbed my purse.
“Say it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said coldly, and stood up before he could trap me in the chair again.
“Cassidy,” he pleaded, but I was already walking toward the side exit door that emptied out into an alleyway. “Cassidy, wait!” Connor’s hand grabbed mine and he brought me to a stop. “It does matter. You need to talk about it.”
My hand involuntarily tightened around his even as I tried to walk away. “Are you a therapist too or does it just come with being a detective?”
“Neither, but you’re never—”
“Stop with the hidden interrogation bullshit, Connor!” I cried “I know what you’re doing! You’re doing the same damn thing you did a week and a half ago! Only now you’re—you’re—you look like this!” I waved my free hand in front of him. “Did you follow me here? Did you think dressing like a normal person would help me open up to you? Were you even abused as a child or did you use that to get me to talk too? Did you just want to know my past so you could figure out if you made the right judgment on that call all those years ago? And why does it even matter anymore if they’re dead?”
His brows slanted down and he backed me up until I was pressed against the wall. “You think this is all some play to solve a case, Cassidy? A case that’s f**king closed? That was barely even opened? You honestly believe I would make up some sob story to get you to talk to me?”
“God, just stop! I know all of this was so you could find out the truth about my life! And I know you people do that, you lie about stuff to trick people into saying what you need them to, you make up stories so they think you’ll understand. So I hope you feel better now that you’ve gotten what you’re here for, but I obviously have nothing to hide from you anymore! And if you really want to know what I got out of the will, Detective Green, I got her money. I got a lot of it. Yeah, that probably makes me look even worse than before, but I couldn’t care less about the money! I was shocked that I was even in her will. And another thing: the fire was no accident, but you won’t be able to find the person who did it, because she killed herself in the fire.”
“What?” His eyes bulged and one brow raised.
“She left me a letter, and from what she said in it, she was going to make sure both she and Jeff didn’t make it out, but I don’t think Jeff had a clue. So I don’t know how or what exactly she did. But there you go. She killed herself and him. Burned that godforsaken house to the ground and took them with it. There’s everything, Detective Green—”
“Connor,” he all but growled.
“I know you don’t give a shit about me, so drop the act!” I hissed back. “I just found all that out before I walked into the shop, so now you know everything I know. And now you know that yes, we lied to you when you showed up at the house a few years ago, but I couldn’t let you take me away; I needed to stay near Tyler. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I turned to leave but his grip on my hand tightened and his other hand came up to my shoulder.
“Cassidy, none of this was a damn act!”
“Look, I respect that you love your job, and you’re good at it.” The hand that was somewhat free tried to flail out. “Obviously. But I’ve had a crappy week. I’ve had bad memories resurface. I’ve visited the—well—now-burned-down house that I wanted so desperately to escape from my entire life. If that wasn’t enough I have this annoyingly attractive detective who will not leave me alone, and I just found out that for the last nine months my mother was sober for the first time in thirteen years! And because she was sober her husband decided to start beating her. She couldn’t handle it, and she couldn’t handle what she’d done to me, so she decided to kill herself and him, for me! She thought she was doing it for me, Connor! If only she had called me, I would have done something. I could have done something, right? I would have gotten her away from him, but she didn’t, because she knew I wouldn’t answer, because she knew that I hated her. She killed herself knowing that I hated her, and did it for closure for me. So I could start a new life. I just—I don’t—why wasn’t I there for her?”