Chapter 1 - The Man Who Knew Our Tuesdays
The creepy man wouldn’t leave my mommy alone, no matter how many times she told him no.
Then Damian Cross suddenly stepped beside us and said, “Sorry I’m late, babe.”
But when he finally looked at Mommy’s face, he froze.
And whatever he recognized in her seemed to frighten him more than the man who had been following us.
I was five when it happened.
What I remember first is my ice cream dying.
It slipped from my hand and landed face-down on the pavement.
“Mama!” I gasped, staring at the pink-and-white mess spreading between the cracks. “It died!”
Mommy laughed.
For a few seconds, everything was normal.
The fountain in the middle of Bellweather Park glittered in the afternoon sun. Kids ran through the plaza chasing pigeons. People sat outside the little coffee shop under striped umbrellas. Somewhere behind us, a violinist was playing the same song he played almost every Tuesday.
Mommy crouched beside me.
“I think we can save this situation.”
“The ice cream?”
“No.” She smiled. “That ice cream is beyond medical help.”
Mommy was a nurse, so when she said something was beyond medical help, I believed her.
She bought me another cone.
Chocolate this time.
I took one lick.
Then Mommy stopped smiling.
She didn’t gasp.
She didn’t grab me and run.
My mother wasn’t that kind of person.
Anna Bennett could walk into a hospital room where machines were screaming and people were panicking and somehow make everybody else breathe slower.
So when her fingers suddenly closed around my hand, I noticed.
“Mia,” she said quietly. “Stay close.”
I looked up.
A man stood across the path.
Gray jacket.
Dark pants.
Black shoes.
Nothing special about him.
That was probably why I remember him so clearly.
He looked like someone you could pass in a grocery store and forget before reaching the next aisle.
Except he wasn’t looking at the fountain.
He wasn’t looking at the coffee shop.
He was looking at Mommy.
And he didn’t stop.
At first, I thought maybe he knew her from the hospital.
People recognized Mommy sometimes.
She worked long shifts at St. Catherine Medical Center, and I had seen former patients hug her in grocery stores.
But Mommy didn’t wave.
The man started toward us.
Mommy moved me to her other side.
“You come here every Tuesday,” he said.
Mommy’s hand tightened around mine.
I looked between them.
How did he know that?
“Do I know you?” Mommy asked.
The man smiled.
“Not yet.”
Even at five, I knew that was a strange answer.
He glanced at the empty chair across from Mommy.
“Have coffee with me.”
“No, thank you.”
“Just ten minutes.”
“No.”
His smile stayed.
His eyes didn’t.
“I think you’d enjoy talking to me.”
“I don’t think I would.”
That was when Mommy’s voice changed.
It became the voice she used when I had once fallen off my bicycle and sliced my knee open.
Calm.
Soft.
Almost too soft.
“Sir,” she said, “please leave us alone.”
He looked at me.
Just once.
But that was enough.
Mommy immediately stepped in front of me.
The movement was so fast my chocolate ice cream nearly fell again.
The man lifted both hands.
“I’m only being friendly.”
“My daughter is here.”
“I can see that.”
Something cold moved through me even though the afternoon was warm.
Mommy reached into her purse.
Later, she told me she was looking for her phone.
She never got it out.
Because someone behind her spoke.
“Sorry I’m late, babe.”
The voice was deep and calm.
Not loud.
It didn’t need to be.
The man in gray changed before I even saw the person who had spoken.
His shoulders stiffened.
His smile disappeared.
Mommy turned.
A tall man was walking toward us.
Dark coat.
Black shirt.
Dark hair that looked like the wind had pushed it backward.
He was the kind of man people noticed even when they pretended not to.
There were tattoos at the base of his neck and another disappearing beneath his shirt collar.
Beside him walked a little girl wearing a red raincoat.
The man didn’t rush.
He didn’t shout.
He simply stepped beside Mommy as though he had done it a hundred times.
I knew immediately Mommy didn’t know him.
She squeezed my hand so hard it hurt.
But the man in gray didn’t know that.
The stranger’s face had lost all its color.
“Mr. Cross.”
His voice sounded different.
Smaller.
That was how I first heard the name Damian Cross.
Years later, I would learn why grown men sometimes lowered their voices when they said it.
At five, I only knew that one second there was a creepy man bothering my mother, and the next there was a larger, scarier man pretending to be her boyfriend.
Damian looked toward the gray-jacketed stranger.
“You bothering my family?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Damian’s eyebrow moved slightly.
“No?”
“I didn’t know she was—”
The stranger stopped.
Damian didn’t ask him to finish.
The silence itself seemed to do something.
The man took a step backward.
Then another.
Mommy finally managed to pull her phone halfway from her purse.
But Damian was no longer looking at the stranger.
He had turned toward her.
Really turned.
For the first time, he saw her face.
His expression changed.
Not attraction.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
His eyes narrowed.
His jaw went still.
“Wait.”
The girl beside him peeked around his coat.
She looked at Mommy.
Mommy looked at her.
I felt my mother’s whole body freeze.
Her mouth fell open.
“Lily?”
The girl’s face lit up.
“Nurse Anna!”
She let go of Damian’s hand and hurried forward.
Mommy dropped to her knees just in time for Lily to throw both arms around her.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Mommy hugged her tightly.
“You look so good.”
Lily laughed.
“I can run now.”
“I can see that.”
Damian stood motionless.
The dangerous man who had frightened another grown man by simply appearing suddenly looked like somebody had removed the ground beneath his feet.
His gaze moved from Lily to Mommy.
“You’re Anna Bennett.”
Mommy rose slowly.
“Yes.”
His voice became quieter.
“You were there.”
Mommy nodded.
“Most nights.”
Damian looked at his daughter.
Then back at my mother.
“You saved her.”
Mommy shook her head.
“The doctors saved her. I was just her nurse.”
“No.”
The single word carried a weight I didn’t understand.
“You stayed.”
Lily reached for Mommy’s hand.
“You sang when I was scared.”
Mommy smiled faintly.
“I’m a terrible singer.”
“You are.”
That made me laugh.
Even Damian almost smiled.
Then the gray-jacketed man moved.
Just one step.
Backward.
Damian heard it.
The warmth disappeared from his face.
He turned.
And for the second time that afternoon, something changed.
But this time it wasn’t surprise.
It was recognition of another kind.
Damian stared at the man.
“You.”
The stranger stopped.
Mommy looked between them.
“You know him?”
Damian didn’t answer immediately.
His body shifted until he stood completely between the stranger and us.
The gray-jacketed man swallowed.
“Mr. Cross, this is a misunderstanding.”
“Is it?”
“I was only talking to her.”
“You followed her here?”
“No.”
Damian glanced at Mommy.
“Has he approached you before?”
Mommy hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Damian’s face hardened.
“How many times?”
Mommy’s eyes dropped.
“Three.”
My stomach tightened.
Three?
I had never seen him before.
That meant Mommy had.
And she hadn’t told me.
Or anybody.
The man in gray spread his hands.
“Anna, come on. I never threatened you.”
Damian turned his head slightly.
“You know her name.”
The stranger realized his mistake.
Mommy realized it too.
She stepped closer to me.
Damian’s voice became almost conversational.
“You knew where she’d be. You knew what day she came here. You knew her daughter would be with her.”
The man backed up again.
“Mr. Cross—”
“Who sent you?”
Nobody spoke.
A breeze moved through the white flowering trees.
Somewhere, the violinist stopped playing.
The stranger looked toward the street.
Damian followed his gaze.
A black sedan was parked across the intersection.
Its engine was running.
The moment Damian noticed it, the car pulled away.
Fast.
Damian watched it disappear.
Then he looked at the stranger.
The stranger ran.
Not toward us.
Away.
He pushed through a group near the fountain and disappeared between two buildings.
Damian made no attempt to chase him.
That surprised Mommy.
“Aren’t you going after him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants me to.”
Damian reached inside his coat.
Mommy stiffened.
He noticed and slowly removed only his phone.
He typed something.
“Someone else will see where he goes.”
Mommy stared at him.
“You have people following him?”
Damian looked at her.
“I do now.”
“I don’t want trouble.”
His eyes moved to me.
Then to Lily.
“I don’t think trouble is asking your permission.”
Mommy’s face went pale.
Damian softened his tone.
“How long has he been following you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Anna.”
She looked down.
“The first time I noticed him was outside the hospital about two weeks ago.”
Damian became completely still.
“The hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
“The second time?”
“Parking garage.”
“What did he say?”
Mommy hesitated.
“He asked if I remembered him.”
Damian’s eyes sharpened.
“And do you?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Damian looked away, thinking.
Lily squeezed his hand.
“Daddy?”
He glanced down.
His entire face softened for her.
“It’s okay, bug.”
Mommy noticed.
So did I.
It was the first thing about Damian Cross that didn’t scare me.
Lily tugged his sleeve.
“Can Nurse Anna come with us?”
Damian looked at Mommy.
Mommy immediately shook her head.
“We’re going home.”
“I think that’s a bad idea.”
Her expression changed.
“Excuse me?”
“The man who followed you knows your schedule. There was a car waiting for him. You don’t know who sent him.”
“And you do?”
Damian didn’t answer.
Mommy’s eyes narrowed.
“You recognized him.”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
Another pause.
Then Damian said something I would remember for years.
“From the night my daughter almost died.”
Mommy’s hand tightened around mine.
“What?”
“I saw him at St. Catherine.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Damian stared in the direction the sedan had disappeared.
“I never forget faces.”
Mommy looked unsettled.
“You were barely at the hospital. Lily was there for weeks, but you—”
“I was there more than you knew.”
He glanced at Lily.
“And so was he.”
Mommy’s voice dropped.
“Why would someone from the hospital follow me months later?”
Damian’s phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
Whatever he read changed his expression.
“What?”
He locked the phone.
“Nothing.”
“Mr. Cross.”
“Damian.”
“What did the message say?”
His eyes returned to Mommy.
“The man in gray didn’t run randomly.”
A cold feeling spread through my chest.
“Where did he go?” Mommy asked.
Damian paused.
Then he looked directly at her.
“Back to St. Catherine.”
And that was the moment our ordinary Tuesday ended.
Because the man hadn’t approached Mommy because he wanted coffee.
He had approached her because of something that happened inside the hospital months earlier.
Something involving Lily.
Something Damian Cross already suspected.
May you like
And something my mother had apparently seen without realizing it.
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