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A new orchid, he remembered, making a note to himself to pick one up after work tomorrow. And then you just wait and keep on top of everything so that when she’s home, the house is perfect for her. Cornell stood, looking at the garden bed with an angry eye. But she should already be home, and he should be fucking buried in that.
The doorbell made Cornell jump.
When she’s home…
Hardly brushing his hands, Cornell sprinted, sliding open the screen and charging into the house. It had to be her. He’d open the door, and Ali would be standing there. She would come home, and this awful feeling of helplessness would disappear. Because then Cornell could take care of her, look after her, touch her—anything. And then his heart would be relieved to pour out all the love it had been holding onto heavily for her and her alone.
But it was Bobbi, holding containers of food. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first.”
Cornell shook his head and then carefully took some of the load from her, trying not to show her too much that he was glancing just beyond her shoulder into the fading light, looking for Ali.
“Ali was in the kitchen all day. She thought you might not be eating so well,” Bobbi said, placing a dish on the kitchen counter. Cornell saw her take in the empty bag of chips on the coffee table with a sigh.
“Is she… ” Cornell motioned back over his shoulder at the front door as he joined her in the kitchen, nudging Mowgli from the counter.
“She asked me to drop them off. I meant to come earlier so you could have a real dinner. I’m sorry. Traffic.” Bobbi looked at his dirty shorts.
Cornell placed the containers on the counter. “Sorry. Yard work. Thank you,” he mumbled, staring at the food. Food Ali had made for him. It should have made him smile, the thoughtful, kind gesture, the idea that she was thinking about him, worrying about him. But he frowned instead, because the last thing she needed was to be thinking of anyone other than herself.
Clearing his throat, Cornell fingered the foil covering the pie. Pecan. He could smell it. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“No, thank you. I can’t stay long. How have you been?” Bobbi asked, her stare forcing Cornell to look at her.
Great, he wanted to say. I’m great. I’m not having psychotic thoughts and dreams about bashing Graham’s head in and burying him in our backyard or nightmares about him ripping your daughter’s clothes off. All good over here.
“Alright.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “How is she?”
Bobbi patted Mowgli. “Better,” Bobbi said. “She’s up and about more with less pain. The neurologist cleared her.”
But none of those were answers to the question Cornell actually asked, and judging by the look on Bobbi’s face, she knew that as well.
“She’s okay. About what you would expect, I think. I don’t really know,” Bobbi said with a heavy sigh.
Cornell leaned against the counter. “Is she sleeping?”
This had to be the hardest thing for Cornell to relinquish. Because he understood now that the night Ali came home from the hospital, when she screamed and cowered terrified in the corner, it had nothing to do with the car accident. It had everything to do with the minutes before, when Cornell had been powerless to stop it.
If hell had a feeling, it had to be that.
“She is. John put her on a low dose of Ambien that’s been helping,” Bobbi said, pulling him from the walking-nightmare. “Maybe when she’s back in her routine, she won’t need it.”
Routine, Cornell thought. Not home.
Bobbi cleared her throat. “Cornell, is he… is he still here?”
“No,” Cornell said immediately. “He’s not.” Because if he was close, he’d be dead. His fists clenched tightly, and his face twisted as the rage burned its way up his throat.
“She doesn’t want to talk to the police,” Bobbi said, shaking her head. “I just… she won’t report it.”
It continued to tear at him. Because Ali deserved justice. Graham’s last victim deserved justice. And whoever came next, because Cornell was certain there would be more, deserved a chance to avoid this altogether.
“He’s not here anymore,” he reassured Bobbi, and she returned an appreciative smile and reached out to squeeze Cornell’s hand. “I just wish… ” I just wish this guy was fucking dead.
Bobbi squeezed his hand again. “I know. I do too. I don’t even know how this happened. Why Ali?” Her voice broke. “It’s disgusting and wrong for it to happen to anyone, but she was trying to help him. It’s not right.”
Because I wasn’t there and I should’ve been. Cornell wanted to let go of Bobbi’s hand to rub his chest. But he didn’t. You deserve to feel pain. This is nothing compared to what Ali feels.
“Don’t,” Bobbi said. “I can see it.” She stepped in front of Cornell, taking his other hand. “You’re as guilty in all of this as she is—not one ounce, do you hear me?”
