“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.
Karen smiles a little. Wes may get out on bail, but he won’t be back at work. Siphon isn’t going to let him in the office now that he’s all over the news. Not right on the heels of Tanner Duncan.
Tonight is a much bigger victory than her colleagues realize.
* * *
—
Ivy didn’t intend to follow Karen; she wasn’t even looking for her. She had been waiting in front of the police station, thinking—hoping—she would catch Wes walking out after paying his bail. Assuming he got bail. She still hadn’t heard anything about that. Instead, Karen was the one who walked out of the building.
It was the smile. Ivy couldn’t stand seeing that woman smile.
She followed Karen away from the police station and then to a bar. Ivy had never been to the Parkside Tavern and didn’t plan to go, given how many cop cars were out front. She stays in her own car, down the street a little, and surfs through her phone, looking for information about how to post a bond. It surprises her that this can be done twenty-four hours a day, but first the bail amount has to be set.
She thinks about calling Wes’s lawyer but doesn’t, assuming he wouldn’t answer her questions anyway. She then thinks about calling her own lawyer but doubts he would pick up the phone at eight o’clock on a Friday night.
Helpless. That’s how she feels, and it isn’t an emotion she is comfortable with. Or familiar with, for that matter, because there’s always something you can do. Like sit in front of a bar waiting for Karen to come out. Somehow, this has to be useful.
When Karen finally does leave the bar, Ivy follows her again. All the way to her house on Nightingale Lane. Ivy passes by as Karen pulls into the carport, and she keeps going, wondering where to head next.
Not home. That will just make her mind spin again.
She could call Heath, but he would just try to get into her head again about Wes. This would become another reason for him to try and convince her that Wes isn’t worth it. Heath has no idea what Wes is doing for her right now, that he’s in jail but it should be her. He probably wouldn’t believe it if she told him.
Ivy turns up the music and keeps driving, circling her way back to the police station, because there’s nowhere else she can think to go.
When her phone rings, she almost hits the curb trying to answer it.
Wes.
No hello. No greeting. She doesn’t bother.
“Where are you?”
“Home,” he says. “I just got home.”
62
Wes never hears Ivy knock, because she doesn’t. She flies into his house and runs straight for the living room.
“Here,” he calls out from the kitchen. The first thing he did when he returned home was eat. He has just finished putting his dishes in the sink when she barrels through his door. The house is still a mess; he hasn’t bothered putting it back in order yet.