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“I’ll set it up,” he says. “Same time and place?”
“Yes. That works. Where is Ashley?”
“Smith took her home.”
We disconnect and I text Ashley: We’re home. We’re safe. We rescheduled your interview for Wednesday night. Are you okay?
She replies instantly: Yes. And thank God all is well. Just take care of Lori. I’ll see you tomorrow.
My phone buzzes with a text. I hit the number to auto-dial it and the man I assume to be Donovan Marks answers. “Marks.”
“This is Cole Brooks.”
“I won’t ask how you got my number. My client apologized to your wife. He meant her no harm.”
“While my wife believes that,” I concede, “I’m not as forgiving. I saw what he was like the day he attacked her and it was brutal. Get him to accept a mandatory ninety-day hospital confinement and I’ll drop the charges.”
“The hospital assures us he’s stable.”
“How many stable people have you seen commit violent acts? Because my list is long.”
“He will have financial concerns,” he replies, sidestepping a direct answer.
“Bigger ones when I put my best foot forward and lock him away for a few hard years.”
He’s silent for several beats. “I’ll talk to him.”
“You now have my number.” I disconnect, hoping like hell I’ve solved the Roger problem.
With my wife on my mind, I walk into the kitchen, pour her a glass of wine and head up the stairs. I find her neck deep in bubbles, her hair piled on top of her head. “How’s the bath?” I ask, closing the space between us, and setting the wine down on the ledge surrounding the tub.
“Heaven,” she says. “I already feel better. I swear I had this chill that just went to the bone.” She reaches for the wine. “Thank you.” She sips. “I know you have updates on Roger. Tell me.”
I sit on the ledge. “He’s in jail.”
She sets the glass down on the other side of the tub. “I knew he would be. I hate that he is. I truly believe that man just lost his mind with grief.”
“You aren’t remembering his face and eyes in that bathroom,” I say. “You can’t or you’d know he’s not someone we can dismiss.”
“But Cole—”
“Hear me out. I am giving him the chance to get help. I called his attorney, but I’m going to create layers in this deal to protect you. And all of this when I really want him behind bars. I can’t want to help a man I believe would have hurt you. I’m not made that way, but I love you. And I’m doing it this way for you.”
She softens. “Thank you, Cole.”
I squat down next to her. “How are you? Not how do you think you need to be. How are you?”
“I’m okay, but I get this need to do something when I feel out of control. I need—”
“To do more.”
“Yes. We aren’t even really looking at cases right now. I need a case. Honestly, I think you do, too.”
She’s right and yet I feel the resistance inside me. This fear that I’m still digging us out of one hole and we’ll land in another.
“Let me order the food and we can talk.”
“That feels like resistance.”
