others involved, or to run, or to craft delays. Your friends suffered a loss, and the people who caused it are free to go about their lives and business. The legal system is very flawed.”
“That may be, but without it, chaos.”
From her experience, chaos came with it.
“Consequences, punishment, justice, should be swift and constant, without the escape hatches of money, clever lawyers and illogical rulings.”
“I imagine most mobs think that when they get a rope.”
She frowned at him. “You arrest people who break the law. You know they’ve broken the law when you do so. You should be frustrated, even angry, knowing one of them finds a way through a legal loophole or, due to human failure, isn’t punished for the crime.”
“I’d rather see a guilty man go free than an innocent one go down. Sometimes there are reasons to break the law. I’m not talking about our three current assholes, but in general.”
Obviously relaxed, Brooks stretched out his legs, gave Bert a little rub with his foot. “It’s not always black and white, right and wrong. If you don’t consider all the shades and circumstances, you haven’t reached justice.”
“You believe that.” The muscles in her belly twisted, vibrated. “That there can be reasons to break the law.”
“Sure there are. Self-defense, defense of others. Or something as simple as speeding. Your wife’s in labor? I’m not going to cite you for breaking the speed limit on the way to the hospital.”
“You’d consider the circumstances.”
“Sure. Back when I was on patrol, we got called in on an assault. This guy went into a bar and beat the shit out of his uncle. We’ll call him Uncle Harry. Now, we’ve got to take the guy in on the assault, but it turns out Uncle Harry’s been messing with the guy’s twelve-year-old daughter. Yeah, he should’ve just called the cops and Child Services on it, but was he wrong to break Uncle Harry’s face? I don’t think so. You have to look at the whole picture, weigh those circumstances. That’s what the courts are supposed to do.”
“Point of view,” she murmured.
“Yeah. Point of view.” He trailed a finger down her arm. “Have you broken the law, Abigail?”
It was a door, she knew, that he invited her to walk through. But what if it locked behind her? “I’ve never had a speeding ticket, but I’ve exceeded the posted limit. I’m going to check the lasagna.”
When he wandered in a few minutes later, she was standing at the counter, slicing tomatoes.
“I harvested some tomatoes and basil from the greenhouse earlier.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“I like to be busy. I completed a contract a bit earlier than I projected, so I rewarded myself with gardening. And I had visitors.”
“Is that so?”
“Your mother and sisters.”
He was on the point of topping off her wine. “Say what again?”
“They were out this way. They’d had what your mother called a fancy ladies’ lunch, and were going shopping and to drink frozen margaritas. They invited me to join them.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Mya explained they essentially came by to check me out. I liked her honesty, though at the time it was somewhat unnerving.”
Brooks let out a sound that might’ve been a laugh. “She can be.”
“They had Plato with them. Bert enjoyed playing with him.”
“I bet.”
“They laugh a lot.”
“Bert and Plato?”
“No.” And that made her laugh. “Your mother and sisters. They seem very happy. They seem like friends as well as relatives.”
“I’d say they are. We are.”
“Your other sister, Sybill, has a kind and gentle way. You appear to have qualities of both of your siblings. You also share a strong physical resemblance, particularly with Mya.”
“Did Mya tell you embarrassing stories about me?”
“No, though I would have been interested. I suspect she was more curious about me. She said when it came to women, to relationships …” Abigail paused a moment as she layered slices of buffalo mozzarella with the tomatoes. “In the past you tended toward the looks without necessarily much substance to back it up.”
Brooks watched her as she spoke, as she perfected the pattern on the dish. “I bet that’s word for word.”
“Paraphrasing can impart a different tenor, even a different meaning.”
“Can’t argue.”
“Is it true?”
He considered, shrugged. “I guess it is, now that I think about it.”
“I think it’s flattering.” And it also spoke to the novelty she’d brought up that morning. Novelty wore off.
“What surprises me is they had you three to one, and took no for an answer.”
“I was obviously, and honestly, deeply involved with the garden.” She picked up the wine now, drank. “Your mother did, however, invite me to an impromptu backyard barbecue this Sunday.”
He laughed, lifted his glass in salute. “See? They didn’t take no for an answer.”
She hadn’t considered that, and now saw Brooks was right. “Your mother seemed to ignore my reasonable excuse to decline. I thought it might be better to write her a polite note of regret.”
“Why? She makes great potato salad.”
“I have my gardening and household chores on my schedule for Sunday.”
“Chicken.”
“I’m sure your mother makes very nice chicken, but—”
“No. You’re a chicken.” He made a clucking sound that deepened her frown and stirred her temper.
“There’s no need to be rude.”
“Sometimes honest is rude. Look, there’s no reason to be nervous about hanging out in the backyard and eating potato salad. You’ll have fun.”
“No, I won’t, because I’ll have neglected my schedule. And I don’t know how to behave at a backyard barbecue. I don’t know how to have conversations with all those people I don’t know, or barely know, or how to meet the curiosity that would, I assume, be aimed at me because you and I have been having sex.”
“That’s a lot of don’t knows,” Brooks decided, “but I can help you with all of it. I can give you a hand with the gardening and household chores beforehand. You do just fine with conversations, but I’ll stick with you until you’re comfortable. And they may be curious, but they’re disposed to like you because I do, and my mother does. Plus, I’ll make you a promise.”
He paused now, waited until she lifted her gaze to his.
“What promise?”
“You give it an hour, and if you’re not having a good time, I’ll make an excuse. I’ll say I’ve got a call I have to handle, and we’ll go.”
“You’d lie to your family?”
“Yeah, I would. They’d know I’m lying, and understand.”
There, she thought, one of the complications that tangled into social duties and interpersonal relationships. “I think it’s best to avoid all of that and just send a note of regret.”
“She’ll just come fetch you.”
That stopped her slicing again. “That’s not true.”
“It’s gospel, honey. She’ll figure you’re too shy or too stubborn. If she decides on shy, she’ll mother you over there. If she decides on stubborn, she’ll push you every mile from here to there.”
“I’m not shy or stubborn.”
“You’re both, with some of that clucker tossed in.”
Deliberately, she brought the knife down on the board a little harder than necessary. “I don’t see the wisdom
