This Could Be Us (Skyland, #2)(14)
A group of agents stride to Edward’s office, where others are already rummaging through his desk and pulling paintings off the walls.
“Call Brunson,” Edward says as they march him toward the door. “Tell him I’ve been set up and I need him right away.”
The reality of calling our friend who is a lawyer to get Edward out of jail hits me like a semi, and I can’t breathe. Dumbly I take in the scene unfolding. Of Edward being hustled down our steps. Of my hydrangea bush being trampled by some careless agent checking the exterior of our house. Of our neighbors stepping out into their front yards, pulling curtains back, some standing boldly on the porch with folded arms and judgmental faces, gawking in the early-evening glow of streetlamps. I step onto the porch and blink at the tears standing in my eyes, not falling by sheer force of will.
“This is a mistake,” Edward screams as they walk him across our perfectly manicured front yard, I think as much for the benefit of the onlookers as to reassure me. His eyes are wild when they meet mine, and I’ve never felt less assured, less safe in my life.
A sob from behind me draws my eyes to all three girls huddled at the front door, faces thunderstruck, watching their father be dragged away. Watching agents swarm our house searching for God knows what.
“Girls,” I say, fighting the panic crawling up my throat and threatening to strangle me. “Get inside.”
“Daddy!” Inez screams, the word torn from her throat as she shoves past me and down the porch steps. She throws her arms around Edward’s middle, though he can’t hug her back with his hands cuffed behind him. She burrows into his chest, tear-streaked face buried in his shirt, her small frame shaking with sobs. I rush across the yard, picking my way through the agents encircling my husband and daughter.
“Hey, it’s okay, sweetie.” Edward bends to hold Inez’s tearful gaze. “It’s a big misunderstanding. I’ll be home in no time.”
I meet Edward’s eyes over her tousled curls, and I have no idea if we can believe the words coming out of his mouth. There’s too much smoke for there to be no fire at all, and watching my daughter come apart, watching our lives fall apart, I’m afraid we’ll all get burned.
An agent prods him toward the car waiting at the curb.
“Sol!” Edward yells, ducking his head when the agent nudges him into the back seat. “Call Brunson.”
“Okay.” I nod, feeling the weight of every eye in the cul-de-sac bearing down on us. “I will.”
The door slams, and Edward drops his head to the seat, not looking back when the car pulls out of our driveway.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper to Inez, my eyes fixed on the disappearing taillights. “Let’s go back inside. We’ll talk to your dad soon.”
We cross the yard, Inez clinging to my arm. Lottie and Lupe stand on the top step, tears streaking their faces. My heart pinches at their chorus of sniffles and sobs, and I shuffle them inside, slamming the door on the wave of curiosity and censure rising over our cul-de-sac. Herding them back past the marauding agents, through the dining room, and into the kitchen, I close the door behind us, blocking out the mayhem in our home and sealing us in this space where, for just a second, the madness can’t reach us.
“What did Dad do?” Lupe asks, her voice hushed.
“He didn’t do anything,” Inez says, her tearful words pebbled with anger. “You heard him. Judah Cross set him up.”
“Honey, we don’t know that.” I run a shaking hand over my hair, letting it slip from the haphazard pony I threw it in while making dinner. It feels like years ago that my greatest concern was whether the risotto had cooked long enough.
“Are you defending Judah Cross?” Inez’s face scrunches with adolescent indignation. “God, Mom. How could you?”
I slam my hand on the counter, the palm making a loud whack that jerks all three sets of startled eyes to my face.
“Don’t.” The word comes out quiet and flat. “I don’t have time for your histrionics, Inez. You know I support your father completely. We aren’t sure what’s going on yet, and while we figure it out, please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
A tear slips down Inez’s cheek, and she presses her lips together, sniffing and nodding.
“Look at me.” I tip her chin up and meet her eyes, the hard lines of my mouth softening, on the verge of shaking. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.”
“But Daddy,” Lottie sobs, her slim shoulders shaking. “They’re taking him to jail.”
“Hey.” I cup her wet cheek and look at the three of them one by one. “I’m not saying this won’t be hard. I don’t know what’s happening either, but there’s one thing I do know.”
I wait for them to quiet their sniffles and give me their full attention.
“I will take care of you.”
I pull the three of them close to me in a tangle of limbs and hair and tears. “You are my life, and I will take care of you. We will be all right. I promise you that.”
By the time the agents finish their search and ask me a bunch of questions I have no answers for, I’ve called the lawyer and persuaded the girls to go up to their rooms for the night. Needless to say, no school tomorrow. And Coach Krisensky can shove that five a.m. practice up his vaulting horse.