~Katharine Hepburn

PAST

SCARLETT

"Do you know the kind of trouble that old bitch has gotten me into?  Do you even care that you're messing with my career?  All I've ever done is care about you and try to do right by you, and this is how you repay me?"  Harris spoke to me in a low, mean voice, pitched quiet enough that his words didn't carry beyond his usual stalking booth in the diner.   

That was the first time I started to get a real sense that he was delusional.  He seemed to have some idea in his head of what our relationship was, and it was not even remotely close to reality. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said stoically.  I started to move away. 

"Vivian Durant.  She's been prying into my actions, questioning my methods.  She went over my head, to my superiors, and, because she's filthy rich, they're listening to her." 

Finally an encouraging development.  It made me feel brave enough to say, "Good.  Maybe you should stop bothering me every day.  Maybe you should give up on stalking teenage girls altogether if you don't want to get into trouble for it." 

I dodged away when I saw the look on his face.  If we'd been alone with him looking at me like that . . . I'd have been very concerned for my safety.  

Harris stopped coming to the diner after that.   

I thought that was the end of it.  I really did.  I stopped worrying about him, stopped dreading any possible run-ins, stopped letting fear rule my actions.

Gram had scared him off and that was that.  Yay for Gram.   

I put him out of my mind. 

But Harris was only biding his time.  He was patient, and determined, and he held all of the power. 

He showed up at school one day.  He had no trouble pulling me out of class.  All it took was a brief conversation with my English teacher and that was it. 

"Scarlett," Mrs. Cowen called.  "Detective Harris would like a word."   

The girl next to me muttered, "The hot cop is here for you?  Lucky girl."

I walked out into the hallway, turning to look at Harris.  I folded my arms across my chest, stance belligerent.  Expression belligerent.  Attitude belligerent.

He killed that little bit of defiance soon enough.  "Your boyfriend is finally being charged for that murder.  A warrant's been issued and some officers are planning to pick him up at football practice."   

I felt ill.  Literally.  I thought I might throw up.  I'd been so sure he was in the clear, that it was completely behind us, and now this . . . "Why are you telling me this?" I asked Harris carefully.  His motives, as usual, were baffling to me.

"I think you can help him.  Come into the station.  Give a new statement.  We can go over every word that creep said to you.  You remember all of those unsolved, violent rape cases in the county, the disappearances?  I think your attacker was our guy.  Help me fill in some blanks.  The more dangerous that bum looks, the more innocent your boyfriend will be." 

I was wringing my hands, looking at him uncertainly.  I really didn't want to go anywhere with Harris, but I wanted to help Dante more.  I felt myself caving.

"I know it's a pain the ass," Harris said with a friendly smile, "but it won't take long, and it might make all of the difference.  At least you get to ditch school for it." 

I agreed to go to the station with him.

On the way out of school, we saw only one person as we walked through the halls to the exit.   

Tiffany was at her locker, fishing something out.  She stopped and watched us as we passed her.  

Harris was walking just in front of me, but I slowed and let him get farther ahead as we came even with her. 

"If you see Dante, will you tell him that Harris took me out of school?  Tell him I need to talk to him as soon as possible."  I said the words in a quick jumble, not wanting Harris to hear. 

Tiffany nodded solemnly, looking back and forth between my earnest face and Harris's retreating back.  "Will do," she said.  She looked sincere.

It was the most civil exchange we ever had.  And the most damaging. 

I hurried to catch up to Harris before he realized I'd stopped to talk.  

I didn't trust him, but apparently, I trusted him too much. 

In my defense, I did not think he would do or could do what he did in broad daylight. 

But I did get into his car without a fight. 

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

"I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was.  Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.  They're in each other all along."

~Rumi

PRESENT

SCARLETT

I woke up feeling rested and almost . . . peaceful.  Crying yourself to sleep apparently made for a good night's rest. 

It didn't hurt that my head was pillowed tenderly against a familiar chest.  That I could hear the deep, throbbing beat of Dante's heart.  It was so comforting that I had myself half convinced I was still sleeping. 

It was one thing to wake up with him, another to be comforted by it. 

What strange new world was this?    

I couldn't believe he was real, that this was.  That after all of the war we could have a moment of real peace.

Or that we were looking at trying to carve out some kind of a future together. 

But was this even that?  Or was this just another temporary reprieve?