A Twisted Love Story(74)

All these thoughts fly through her mind, bouncing off one another. Making noise. It’s enough to drive someone crazy. If she thinks about it for one more minute, that might just happen.

A knock at the door saves her.

Must be Heath. By now, Wes has made the news. His picture from the Siphon website is everywhere. His reputation in Fair Valley has been shot to hell, probably forever. No matter what happens next, he’ll always be the guy whose picture was in the news for all the wrong reasons.

She opens the door, expecting to see her best friend.

A woman is standing on her porch. Someone she doesn’t know. She has blond hair, curly spirals that tumble down to her shoulders. Round face, pink cheeks, and blue eyes that remind Ivy of a chambray shirt.

“Ivy?” she says.

“Who are you?”

“Clarissa. I’m Milo’s fiancée.”

Ivy takes a step back, physically trying to get away from Clarissa and whatever her problem is. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry to just show up like this. Your address was listed online, and I just . . . I have some questions. If you don’t mind.”

She minds. A lot.

“Milo has cheated on me before,” Clarissa says. “Once. And I know you said nothing happened between the two of you, but I keep thinking about how weird it is that you posted a picture of some random guy you met in a bar if you weren’t . . . involved. Does that make sense?”

“I’m not involved with him. Never have been, never will be.”

Clarissa glances behind Ivy, like she thinks Milo is going to be standing right there. “Seriously,” Clarissa says. Her voice is a little stronger. A little angry. “If you are having a thing with him, just tell me. Because the last woman denied it, too. She was lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Please. I don’t want a husband who’s going to cheat on me.”

“Then don’t marry Milo,” Ivy says.

She slams the door shut. Paces until Clarissa is gone.

When the coast is clear, Ivy leaves and gets in her car. She turns the music up to a deafening level, trying to drown out all the noise in her head, and drives without a destination. She makes random turns and goes in a circle without realizing it.

The circle becomes smaller and smaller until Ivy notices that she is at the police station, where Wes is being held.





61




Karen walks out of Wes’s arraignment with Jocelyn Hughes, the assistant DA who has been assigned to the case. She’s about thirty-five, with short black hair and the most incredible fingernails Karen has ever seen. Jocelyn is one of the more experienced lawyers they have. Sometimes the DA does know what he’s doing.

It’s late afternoon on Friday, and Wes is the last case for the judge. Karen wished it had been put off until Saturday morning so Wes could have spent the night sweating over whether or not he would be released. If he had been assigned a public defender, that’s exactly what would have happened. But Wes’s lawyer has all the right connections.

“That went better than I thought,” Jocelyn says. “Considering this happened seven years ago.”

Karen nods, though she doesn’t agree. She would prefer Wes had been denied bail. “Thank you for all your work on this. I realize it all had to be done rather quickly.”

Jocelyn smiles. “Doesn’t it always?” She pats Karen on the shoulder, telling her to have a good weekend.

Karen will definitely do that. She’s been riding a natural high since arresting Wes this morning. On TV, they talk about slapping the cuffs on the perp. Karen doesn’t think of it exactly like that. For her, it’s about getting a win.

A uniformed cop nods at her as she leaves. Perhaps a sign of respect, because he must have heard about this case. It’s not every day an old case is solved, especially not one so many people remember. She thinks about this as she finally leaves for the day. Instead of going home, she stops at a cop bar. No paying for drinks tonight. Not after her success.

The Parkside Tavern used to be next to a park. Now it’s a Costco, but the name of the bar never changed. Inside, the place is wall-to-wall police, and Karen recognizes most of them. She walks through until she comes across Louis Knox.

“Well, if it isn’t the woman of the hour,” he says.

She smiles and nudges him over a little, making room for herself. He motions to the bartender, getting her a drink. Jack Daniel’s, neat.

“I have to admit, when I heard you were looking into the Fisher case, I thought you were a little crazy,” he says.

Karen shrugs. “It came up during another investigation. Sometimes, you get lucky.”

“That kind of luck might land you in the homicide division.”

She doesn’t respond to that. Homicide is a double-edged sword for her. Yes, it would be a promotion and a bump in pay, but it wouldn’t do anything for her real mission. By the time an abuse victim turns up dead, it’s too late.

Louis points to the TV above their heads.

Wes.

His picture is front and center on the screen, and the chyron reads:

Local Businessman Arrested in Deadly Hit-and-Run.

It doesn’t mention that the case is old. Not surprising, no news outlet is going to lead with that when they can lead with death.