“Yes, sir.”
I tugged on the door handle and buttoned my cashmere coat as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk. I found a bench close enough so I could see without being noticed and dropped onto the frigid metal seat.
A few minutes later when Marlow emerged from the courthouse with Blake on her hip, I jolted to my feet, but stopped short. Her face was luminous, even if tear-streaked. Blake thrust a fist in the air, the remains of his shout garbled when they reached me.
Wicked made a beeline for the SUV. When she opened the door and found it empty, she looked around, said something to the driver before her expression clouded. He ushered her inside, followed by Andrew, Trish and Ella, Mr. Dixon, Mrs. Quinn, Holt, and Baker.
There wouldn’t have been enough room for me anyway.
And wasn’t that the most accurate summary of the situation? I’d finally felt I’d found my home, but I wasn't really part of them. They’d been welcoming, but when push came to shove, none of them had said they believed in me. But I hadn’t exactly taken any of their calls. I didn't want to hear their disappointment.
I remained glued to the concrete as the car eased past, following it with my eyes until the taillights disappeared. Whatever had filled me over the last day evaporated along with it, replaced by a hollowness I could hardly stand.
My life was in that car. But I wasn’t their life.
“I hope you look like you haven’t slept because you’ve been working on my case.”
I slung my briefcase on the table. “I hope you plan on telling me all the shit you’ve been hiding.”
“It has to be Christopher.”
I failed hiding my surprise at this revelation.
“Do you have anything concrete to substantiate that?”
“She chased him into the woods that day. He came out. She didn’t.”
“You were there too,” I pointed out.
He scowled. “I didn’t hurt Dara.”
“Let’s say for a minute it was the boy. And I think you’ve been pretty sure it was all along.” He remained unmoving, and I struggled to understand why he was so determined not to help himself. “Have you mentioned this to the detectives?”
He shrugged. “Can’t remember.”
“Why are you covering for him?”
He stared at the table. “I feel bad for the kid.”
“He may have killed Dara.”
“But he’s got that drug whore for a mother who loves smack more than she does him.”
“How do you know she’s on heroine?”
He glared at me. “She’s on some serious shit.”
“Is that an excuse? I understand his life is difficult. That doesn’t mean you hurt someone else.”
“What if it was an accident?”
I narrowed my gaze. “Do you know for certain it was?”
He dropped his chin. “No.” His shackles clanged as his rubbed his thighs. “It’s hard for me to picture him doing something to her intentionally.”
“If I can get enough evidence to point it toward him, will you cooperate?”
“No.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“Still haven’t heard from Shel?” There was that look like I was an imbecile. “Anyone else?”
“Just my father. No other visitors.”
“But you won’t see him.”
“If you already know who’s been here, why ask?”
“To see if we’re on the same page.”
“Are we?”
“To be determined.” I flipped through my legal pad. “Were Alex and the sister-in-law intimately involved?”
“You mean sleeping together? I don’t know.”
“You have your suspicions.”
“Yeah, but the only thing I’m sure of is she supplied him with oxy.”
“I’m putting Shel on the stand.”
“No.” His answer was swift, firm, and unsurprising. “This has been hard enough on her.”
“I’m not concerned with her.” I waved him off. “And you’re sure there’s nothing else you’ve forgotten to mention.”
He shifted in the metal chair, lip curled into a disgusted snarl. “Nope.”
“Then I’ll see you the day before the trial.” I gathered my belongings.
“What? That’s it.”
“You’ve told me everything you know.” I rapped the table with my knuckles twice. “See you next week.”
His chair scraped as he stood. “But you don’t have anything to get me out of here.”
“I’m still not sure that’s what you want.”
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Then it’s up to me to piece the rest together. I can’t do that here.”
“Don’t point the finger at that kid.” Abraham sounded almost desperate.
“I’m going where the evidence leads.”
I powered up my phone as soon as I exited the prison. A litany of chimes went off as a series of texts came in from my PI.
Instead of reading them, I pressed his contact.
“The girl’s into some serious shit.”
I scrubbed my forehead. “What girl?”
“The one you asked me to chase. From the shelter.”
My shoulders sagged. “Cricket.”
“That’s the one. Girl’s in deep with the kind of people who even scare me.”
Dread filled me at having to tell Trish the bad news. “Can she get away from them?”
“There’s only one way.”
Shit. “Do they know she’s working on the food truck?”
“They know every time she breathes. She thinks she’s got them fooled, but trust me, if they didn’t allow her to be at the shelter, she wouldn’t be there.”
“You think they planted her there?” I climbed into the back of the waiting car.
“My instinct says no. She tries too hard to ghost around when she comes and goes. But I wouldn’t rule anything out.”
“Anything else with her?”
“I saw her stick something into her arm.”
“What?”
“A syringe. No idea what was in it, but I got a pretty good guess.”
“Do you ever have good news for me?” My head thumped against the back seat.
“I’ve located your problem girl.”
“Terra Blunt?”
“Yep. Hiding out on Long Island. Has three kids, a dog, and a husband who is a pastor.”
“So she’s okay?”
“Better than okay from the looks of it.” He was quiet a second. “You gonna approach her?”
“Haven’t decided yet. Could look bad if I do.”
“You afraid if she sees you, she’ll go into shock?” Bastard.
“It’s been a long time.”
“I’ll text you the address.”
“Don’t. When I decide what I want to do, I’ll let you know.”
“Whatever, boss.”
“You mocking me?”
“Always.” His laugh was throaty from a lifetime of cigarettes. “That kid keeps going
