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“There’s more,” I say. “We both know there’s more to this.”
He cups my face. “I tell you everything. You know I do.”
“So tell me now.”
“Not now,” he says. “I have to meet the ADA for coffee in half an hour.”
“Can you push it back an hour so I can go?”
“No,” he says. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I’m a part of this, a big part of this,” I argue.
“Too big. You’re the one in danger.”
“I’m not in danger anymore,” I say. “You’re just—”
He kisses me hard and fast. “No. I need you to do this for me. Stay here.”
“On one condition,” I say. “You talk to me, really talk to me, when you get home.”
His lashes lower, and then lift. “We’ll talk,” he says, but he doesn’t say tonight. I catch that, but I let it go.
“So Roger is still in jail, for sure?”
“Yes,” he says. “I pressed the authorities to keep him there for a psych evaluation. We’ll know more about his mental condition tomorrow.” He kisses me. “I need to go. Savage is in the living room or I’d tell you to be naked when I get home. So, I’ll undress you when I get home.” He releases me and leaves.
I turn and once again, stare at the empty doorway where Cole was and no longer is. My beautiful, amazing man is broken in some way I do not understand. He’s not talking to me. He says he tells me everything, but he has not and I don’t know if I should push him to talk, or give him space and time. I just know that I have to decide before he returns.
Cole
There are things I have not told Lori, but it wasn’t intentional. There are things I don’t think about, that until now no longer existed, thus they were not a part of who, or what, I am. Except apparently, they are. Apparently, the ghosts of my past have knocked on the door and said hello by shoving a knife into my chest.
I’m about a block from the coffee shop, when I dial Savage’s boss, Blake Walker. “What kind of update do you have for me?”
“All is calm,” he says. “Lori’s mother is safe. The picketers apparently took Saturday off. Roger Adams is still in jail. Your client left the city. And yes, as you directed last night, we are looking for the real killer, and damn glad to do it. That lead you gave us, that tip-off about the real killer, it’s solid.”
“Do I need to get Lori out of town?”
“It depends on a lot of things,” he says. “I would assume Roger Adams to be unstable. If he gets the help he needs, he’ll be off the streets. If he’s set free, the problem you have is that he might just wait you out. I’m of the opinion that you just ride it out and if he comes at you again, we’ll get him locked up to stay.”
“If he comes at her,” I amend tightly.
“Man, I get it. She’s your wife. I get it.”
“And you’re going to tell me you’d keep your wife here?”
“She’s an ex-FBI agent that could kick most men’s butts, so that isn’t a fair question for me to answer. But I’m telling you my honest opinion, and I wouldn’t do anything to put anyone in harm’s way. Whatever you decide, though, we’re here.”
“Just get the killer. That ends this. I’m about to talk to the ADA and pressure him to do the same.”
“We’ll work with him. Just send him my way.”
“I’ll let you know. I’m at my meeting now. I’ll call you.”
We disconnect, and I enter the coffee shop, finding one man in the place at a back table. He stands when he sees me and I walk in his direction, assessing him as I go, impressed with his confidence. He’s tall, with sandy brown hair, and in fit condition. He’s in jeans and a T-shirt today, but still commanding. All good things. I want someone who catches a killer and puts him in jail, not something I feel every ADA I meet is capable of doing.
I cross and he offers me his hand. “Lance Miller,” he says.
