What would this trauma bring to Haley, so close on the heels of losing her mother and almost losing her own life? Anne was terrified at the possible psychological damage this might have done. She was going to have to think hard about her future as an advocate if there was any chance of putting her loved ones in harm’s way.
Of course, if she hadn’t been an advocate, Haley would probably have never come into her life at all.
The little girl blinked her sleepy eyes open and looked up at Anne.
“Mommy Anne? Are you an angel now?”
“No, sweetie,” Anne whispered. “I’m fine.”
“You fell down,” Haley said, tears coming. “That boy made you fall down!”
“But I’m all right now, sweetheart, and that boy will never ever come to our house again.”
“He’s mean like Bad Daddy!” she said, the anxiety building in her expression and her voice. She started to cry. Scrambling up onto her knees, she reached for Anne, and Anne pulled her close.
“Is that what Bad Daddy did to your mommy?” Anne asked, hating the need to do it.
Haley nodded against her shoulder, crying harder, edging back toward the hysteria that had gripped her earlier.
“Bad Daddy knocked my mommy down and hit her and hit her!”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so sorry you had to see that. You must have been so afraid.”
Anne held her tight as the terror of that night came back over Haley like a terrible black wave. She could see the picture in her mind’s eye—the black figure knocking Marissa Fordham to the floor, the arm rising and falling again and again as the killer plunged the knife into her body over and over and over.
“Were you afraid, sweetheart?”
Haley nodded, sobbing. “I-I-I w-w-a-s hi-ding!”
“That was a good thing to do,” Anne said.
“B-but then I-I said no!” Haley cried. “I said, ‘No, no, don’t hurt my mommy!’”
Oh my God, Anne thought. She could easily imagine Haley running from her hiding place, rushing to her mother’s side. The killer couldn’t leave her there alive to tell the story. Thank God he hadn’t turned on her with the knife.
Had she been able to see his face? Had it been too dark? Was he someone she had known and trusted or a stranger she had never seen before?
“Did Bad Daddy say something to you?” she asked.
“Noooo!” Haley wailed. “I want my mommy!”
Now the grief came, howling and tearing out of her like a wild animal. Anne held her tight and rocked her and offered what comfort she could. When a nurse stuck her head into the room to ask if she needed help, she shook her head no. She let Haley release the emotion instead of stopping it short.
It didn’t take long to run out. Her energy store depleted itself quickly, and she gave up and settled against Anne. Anne whispered to her and stroked her hair and told her she was safe, feeling like a liar in the wake of what had happened with Dennis.
A sense of security would be a long time coming for Haley ... and for herself. She felt as if what strides she had made in her own struggle with the aftermath of crime had been taken away from her, and she had been pushed backward down that long tunnel. The sense of despair that came with that was so heavy, all she wanted to do was lie down and escape into sleep, and pray that the nightmares wouldn’t follow her there.
85
“How long have you and Darren Bordain known each other?” Mendez asked.
For the first time since he had met Mark Foster, he saw a little crack in the man’s stoic good nature.
“Not this again,” Foster said, closing his eyes and heaving a sigh. “Darren didn’t kill Marissa.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“I’ve known Darren five or six years.”
“And how long have you been involved?”
“Involved in what way?”
“How long have you been lovers?”
“Oh my God.” He looked at Hicks. “You dragged me down here for this? What’s wrong with you people? Why are you so hung up on the idea that I’m gay? I’m not gay—not that it’s anyone’s business. Darren is not gay. And will you make up your minds? First you think he’s Haley’s father, but now you think he’s gay? And what would it matter? If he was gay, he really wouldn’t have any reason to kill Marissa.”
“He would if he didn’t want her spreading his little secret around,” Mendez said. “That information would be very valuable to him, I would think.”
“You know his mother,” Hicks said. “How would she react to news like that?”
“I have no idea.”
“You told us you know her really well,” Mendez said. “I barely know the woman at all and I can tell you she’s a narcissistic, racist snob. Homophobic wouldn’t be much of a stretch.”
Foster massaged the back of his neck, literally trying to rub out the pain that this experience was. “Is there a point to this?”
“Oh, yeah,” Mendez said.
“Will we get to it anytime soon?”
“What about his father?” Mendez asked. “He seems like that kind of macho man’s man who wouldn’t be too pleased to hear his son really doesn’t have his same interest in strippers and hookers.”
“I don’t really know Mr. Bordain.”
“You don’t run in the same circles.”
“No,” Foster said. “Really. Why are you asking me these questions? Why don’t you ask the Bordains? Why don’t you ask Darren? He’s here, isn’t he?”
“What would make you think that?” Hicks asked.
“He called me and told me before you brought him down here.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because a bunch of us were going out to dinner. He called to say he wouldn’t make it.”
“Thoughtful.”
“Yes. Is that a crime now?”
“No,” Mendez said. “Did he happen to mention to you that he’s wearing one of your shirts?”
“What?”
Mendez ran a forefinger along the breast pocket of his own shirt. “Monogrammed. M-E-F.”
“There must have been a mix-up at the laundry.”
“Mmmmm ... I suppose that could have happened. Or maybe you left it at his house the night Marissa was killed.”
Foster wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. He waited to see where Mendez would go with it.
“Here’s the thing, Mark,” he said. “We have Haley Fordham’s birth certificate with Darren Bordain listed as being her father.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why would you say that?” Hicks asked. “If Darren is straight, why wouldn’t that be possible?”
“Because Haley was already born before Darren ever met Marissa.”
“He says,” Mendez stipulated. “The problem with Darren’s story is that he doesn’t really have an alibi for the night Marissa was killed, and he potentially has two very strong motives to want her dead. Now, he says he was home alone, which doesn’t help him out. I don’t believe him. I think there’s someone who could corroborate his alibi. I don’t believe he was home alone. I think he was with someone, and he’s trying to protect that person.”
“If you’re that person, Mark,” Hicks said, “you can clear this up right now and everyone moves on with their lives.”
“Why would you believe me?” Foster asked. “Darren is my friend. I could lie for him. You would have to corroborate my story, and you’ll do that by going around asking everyone I know if I’m gay and if Darren is gay. Since you’re going to do that anyway, I might as well go home now and leave you to your work.”
“You’re not going to back him up,” Mendez said.
“He hasn’t told you he was with me,” Foster countered. “There’s nothing for me to back up. And there’s nothing for either of us to gain by me saying I was there.”