“Why do it?”
“They were supposed to be upstairs. Alex wasn’t home.”
“What was Christopher’s reaction?”
He rested his arms on his knees. “Ran. I tried to tell him he didn’t see what he thought he did. Stupid.” Abraham pressed his hand so hard against his skull I thought he’d crack it.
“What changed after that?”
“We were more careful for a while. Kid got more quiet. Wouldn’t look at me.”
“Were there any noticeable differences in his behavior toward Alex?”
He stared at me like I was asking the wrong questions. “Kept his distance from all of us. Except Dara. Only time he seemed normal was around her.”
“Was Shel afraid of anyone?”
“You mean Alex?”
“Anyone.”
“She was afraid of hurting him.”
“Did that bother you?”
He knotted his hands together. “Yes.”
“She loved both of you.”
“Yes,” he hissed.
“Did that strain your relationship?”
“What do you think?”
“Was Alex abusive to her? Mentally or physically?”
“No.”
“To the children?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Except the one time with Christopher.”
“I wouldn’t call that abusive.”
“Don’t say that on the stand.”
“I won’t lie.”
“Omission isn’t a lie,” I said. “I have to establish that you’re a good guy. You fell for your friend’s wife, but you loved her and the kids.”
He stood so fast the chair flipped over. Abraham leaned within an inch of my face. “No.”
“I’m not going to make you look like a criminal.”
“Don’t bring Shel into this.”
“You don’t think the prosecution will?”
“I told you about our relationship in confidence.”
“It’s part of the story. That can shift the motive to someone other than you.”
“I’ll rot in here before I make her look bad.”
I stood. “That may very well be exactly what you end up doing.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Marlow
“Can I have your desk?”
I spoke low, my eyes darting out of the office to make sure Holt wasn’t around.
“Yeah. Where are you thinking of putting it? I hope not upstairs in your house. It’s heavy. Even for the boys.”
I rapped my knuckles on the metal desk. “Here.”
Dad’s eyes lit. “I take it this is a surprise.” He spoke in a hushed voice.
“I want it to stay that way.”
He held his finger up to his lips. “I won’t tell anyone but Blake and Ella.”
“I already asked Andrew to talk to you about it. Before, when you and I weren’t speaking.”
“We were always talking, sweetheart. Just a little communication breakdown.” He put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
“What do you think about the floors in here? I talked to a guy about doing reclaimed hardwood, but do you think this is salvageable?” I led him over to the corner where I’d peeled up the carpet.
“That’s the same as upstairs.”
“Would you want the same flooring in your home and office?”
Dad scrubbed the side of his neck. “I don’t see why not. But we’ll have to figure out what the rest of it looks like.”
“I finished painting, so I thought I’d pull up the carpet today.”
“You don’t need to be doing that.”
“I’m pregnant, not helpless.”
“All this old dust can’t be good for you or Gummy.”
“You’re calling the baby Gummy too?” I smiled at my dad. It was really cute hearing him call her or him Gummy.
“Well, I guess. If you don’t mind. How did that come about anyway?”
“No. I don’t mind. I’m so used to it now thanks to Patrick. When he saw the baby on the ultrasound. Said he or she was the size of a gummy bear. And then of course, somehow that stuck.”
“Sounds about right.” He chuckled. I’d missed hearing his laugh. “Now, back to this flooring. The dust—”
“I’ve been wearing a mask.”
“What brings you by, old man?” Holt slapped our father on the back.
“These two wanted to see the place.” He motioned toward the stroller where Blake and Ella were poking at each other.
“Can you help me move this desk out of here?” I wrapped my fingers around one end.
“You’re not lifting anything. I’ll go get one of the guys.”
I grumbled. “It’s not heavy.” I lifted one end to prove my point. So it was a little heavier than I thought.
“Hang on two seconds.”
“You’d let Baker do it.”
“She’s not pregnant.”
“Fine. I’ll move it myself.” I shouldered it toward the door. The desk barely moved.
“I’ll help.” Dad started for the opposite end.
“No.” Holt and I spoke in unison.
“Being old disqualifies me.” He pushed the stroller out to the reception area.
“Dad, you’re not old,” I called.
“Holt said I was.”
“Where’d you get this stubborn streak from?” Holt bumped my hip. “Get on that side. I’ll go backward.”
We got it to the door when Holt set his end down.
“We have to turn it to get it out.”
“I’m ready.”
We tilted it until the edge hit the carpet. I grabbed a leg and tried to figure out where to best put my other hand in the awkward position.
“Let me get one of the guys.”
“Just give me a sec.” I bent to pick up the end. When I stood, shooting pain raced up my back. I dropped the desk and fell to my knees.
Holt rushed around. “Marlow. Damn it. I told you.”
“Not now,” I said through my teeth, pain radiating from my lower spine.
“Dad. We need help.”
“I’m fine.”
His worried face appeared in the doorway, but he couldn’t get through because of the desk. “Damn it, Marlow.”
“Call an ambulance.”
“I just pulled something in my back. Stop with the theatrics.” It hurt to talk. To breathe.
“What about the baby?” Holt touched my thigh.
“Fine. But do we have to do the whole ambulance thing?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t call Patrick. He’s busy and this is nothing.” I tried to get to my feet.
“Don’t move.” Holt clamped a hand on my shoulder. “What happened? Did you feel a pop or anything?”
“No, doctor. I picked up the desk and there was pain.” I grimaced. “It hurts, okay?”
“I won’t take anything you say personally.” He chucked my chin.
“Thanks.”
“Where is she?”
Patrick’s wild eyes searched the room. His suit was rumpled. Tie askew. Hair stood on end.
“I told them not to call you.”
Our gazes clashed. He rushed to my side, hands gripped the bed railing. “Are you okay?”
I lifted my hand to wave him off
