A Twisted Love Story(60)

Heath hasn’t had the most successful love life. Yes, there have been a lot of dates and a lot of women, each one more beautiful than the last. But no one “special.” His word. Ivy isn’t sure a fancy car will attract the right woman. At least by her definition.

“I’m so proud of you,” she says. “Everything seems to be going so well.”

“Thank you. It really is.” He leans back in his chair, smiling. “So tell me about this lawyer.”

“He’s expensive.”

“And you’re sure you need one?” he says. “It’s not like you’re a suspect or anything.”

“I know.”

Back when Ivy first took the job at the Fine Line, Heath was a billion times more supportive than Wes. At least he had talked to her about it, asking if she was nervous and if she really wanted to work at a strip club. But Wes didn’t even believe her.

Now, Heath doesn’t understand why she needs a lawyer, because he still doesn’t know the whole story.

“But you know how the police can be,” she says. “You say anything, and they just twist it around.”

“And Wes?”

“I’m sure he has a lawyer, too. Haven’t talked to him since I left his place.”

“In the middle of the night,” he says.

Another thing for her to regret. Not a good time to piss Wes off. “Yeah, that was wrong,” she says.

“Really? Of all the things you’ve done to Wes and he’s done to you, leaving in the middle of the night is the one that’s wrong?”

“I didn’t say it was the only thing I’ve done wrong,” she says. “It’s just the one I feel bad about today.”

“Okay, seriously,” Heath says. “Please get into a relationship that isn’t so dramatic. Come over from the dark side.”

“I’ve had other relationships. Wes isn’t the only guy I’ve been with.”

“And?”

“And,” she says, “I’d rather be with him. Not all of the time, but a lot of it. Most of it.”

“Yet you still left in the middle of the night.”

“Because I didn’t want to be with him right that second,” she says.

“You do know how . . .” He stops and clears his throat. “That sounds a bit contradictory.”

“Yes.” But also, no. Wes doesn’t make her feel stupid. Sometimes Heath does, though. He has a way of acting like the smartest guy in the room. And a lot of times, he is. But not always. “Are we done with the ‘shame Ivy for her relationship with Wes’ part of the evening?” she asks.

“Sorry.” He places his hand over hers. “I just think you could do so much better.”

“I appreciate that. Now change the subject.”

He does, and she makes a silent promise not to mention Wes again. Still, she knows Heath is counting the minutes until she breaks it.



* * *



—

It’s rare, if not unheard-of, that Karen sits in her home office, puts her feet up on the desk, and thinks about how well things are going. Tonight, that’s exactly what she does.

Everything is moving so much faster now.

Today, she walked away from Coral’s house with a new contact. Since then, she has spent some time researching Uncle Bobby.

He’s a former MMA fighter, now fifteen years past his prime, with an ex-wife—a former dancer—and a current wife, along with three children. He is built like a wall, most of it covered in tattoos, and Uncle Bobby also has committed a few crimes. Mostly small stuff, mostly beyond the statute of limitations, but there are a few things to work with. Enough for a little arm-twisting if it becomes necessary, though she hopes it won’t. Anyone who is forced to give information doesn’t make a great witness in a trial, and Karen fully expects there will be one. Wes isn’t the kind of guy who will take a plea deal. His ego is too big for that.

It’s uncanny how they’re all so much alike. Sometimes she feels like a profiler, only for abusers instead of serial killers. The FBI ought to look into creating a department for it. But until they do, she’ll be right here in the trenches of Fair Valley, fighting on her own.

Karen updates her file on Uncle Bobby. It’s a shame she didn’t get more information from Coral, and she crosses her fingers that he can provide more. She needs a break in this case. Badly.

Her phone vibrates, and she grabs it, hoping it’s Uncle Bobby.

No.

Her son. Seeing his name makes her heart jump, and not in a good way. Tonight is not their weekly call.

“Jack? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says. The words come out in a rush, like he was expecting the question. “Everything’s fine.”

She takes a deep breath. It feels like she went from zero to a hundred and back again, all within seconds. “Thank God.”

“But I have some not-great news,” he says. “I’m not going to be able to come up there for your birthday this year.”

Disappointment hits, spreading faster than gossip at the station. Her birthday is two weeks away, and she hasn’t seen Jack since Christmas.

“It’s work,” he says. “We’re on this big project, and I’m the new guy, so . . .”