“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 . . .”
“So you have to stay there and work,” Karen says. “Of course you do.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“I understand. Everybody has to pay their dues.” Something she has said many times over the years, both to herself and to Jack.
“I’m definitely doing that.”
“Maybe I can come down to L.A. for your birthday,” she says.
“Absolutely,” he says. “We can celebrate both.”
After the call, Karen blinks back her tears. Tries to shake off the sadness.
Refocus all this emotion into her work: That’s what she needs to do. It’s the one good thing to come of this.
50
Wes closes his eyes and rubs his temples. After spending half the day trying to find a lawyer, he still has real work to do. Nine thirty at night in the office, his head is pounding, and there isn’t an Advil in sight.
He wishes, not for the first time, that he had told his sister everything. She would wake him up from this nightmare.
But, as always, he’s too ashamed to make that call. Imagining her disappointment when she hears about Joey Fisher is bad enough to keep him from picking up the phone.
He tries to focus back on his screen. The spreadsheet in front of him doesn’t look good. Siphon has taken quite a hit because of Tanner. Clients are quick to jump ship from a company that can’t get its internal business together. They aren’t wrong. Wes would do the same thing if he were a client instead of an employee.
“Hey.”
He looks up and blinks. Abigail.
She stands in the doorway of his office, her bag in hand like she’s on her way out. He thought he was here alone.
“You’re working late,” she says, walking in. She sits down.
“So are you.”
“No choice. I’m basically doing two jobs,” she says. “But that shouldn’t last much longer. We’ve been interviewing for Tanner’s position.”
“That’s good to hear.” Wes clears his throat. He hasn’t been alone with Abigail since that little talk about the night they spent together. It wasn’t comfortable then, nor is it now. Eventually, he hopes it will be. “It’s a tough time for everyone,” he says.
“Indeed. How are you doing?”
“Just trying to get through it, like everyone else.”
“We’re also scheduling interviews for Bianca’s job,” she says.
“Good. Then you can get back to yours instead of being stuck down here.”
“I hope so.” Abigail stands up, straightens her skirt. “I was going to stop and have a drink on the way home, if you want to join me.”
No. Yes. Definitely not. The way she asks sounds so benign, so innocent. Not suggestive at all. But that’s how it started last time.
“Probably not a good idea,” he says.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Her voice is sharp, like Wes is implying something would happen. Which he is.