Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
I cross and he offers me his hand. “Lance Miller,” he says.
“Cole Brooks, and I’ll say it’s good to meet you after you tell me what you’re going to do about Roger Adams, among other things.”
“Understood,” he says, meeting my eyes, no flinch whatsoever. Also a good sign. He has a backbone.
We sit down and he says, “Look. Let me just start by saying, I didn’t agree with charging your client. Off the record, my boss responded to the fears that we had a serial killer and rapist. The incidents stopped when your client was arrested. That’s what I’m up against. He still thinks your man is the killer.”
“So unless someone else dies, you just walk away,” I snap.
“Give me something to reopen the case. I’d love to slam dunk this. You know that’s a feather in my cap morally and professionally and if I didn’t give a shit about catching the right people, I’d be in private practice making the big bucks like you.”
“You can still fight for the right side in private practice. If you choose to fight for free, that’s on you.” I move on. “Roger Adams.”
“You know what I’m going to say.”
My lips press together. “His record is clean and his attorney is good. He’ll claim grief got the best of Roger and he will get out.”
“But you’ll keep your restraining orders,” he says as if that’s a comfort.
“In other words,” I say. “Unless I solve this crime for you, my wife will need to look over her shoulder for the rest of her fucking life.” I stand up and I don’t say another word. I turn and leave, yanking my phone from my pocket.
I dial Reese. “Your ADA is a pansy-ass scared little puppy that bows to the DA.”
“His hands are tied. He’s really a good guy.”
“What are the chances Cat will do a write-up on the entire mess and put some pressure on them?” I ask, knowing her column is widely followed.
“She already wrote it,” Reese says. “Waiting on your approval in your inbox.”
“I’ll read it and I need to talk to Lori first. I want to get her out of town before it hits. I’ll take her to Houston with me and we’ll clean up that mess.”
“Sounds like a good plan. Call me.”
We disconnect and I start walking, knowing very well that I need to talk to Lori. I have no choice. I’m not myself and I’m not going to be myself until this is over. I love the fuck out of that woman, as Blake said of his wife. I just don’t really know what to say to her. This is just my own personal demon clawing its way to the surface. I need to beat it down and beat it down now. For her. For us. And so, I walk faster, not even sure where I’m going. I’m just not ready to see Lori and yet, all I want is to see Lori.
Chapter sixty-one
Lori
Idon’t know how long I stand at the bedroom window replaying every moment with Cole since that last night in Paris, reliving every tormented, erotic moment; looking for some clue to what has set him off, all too aware it started the minute he found out there was trouble here at home. I finally shake myself into action and make it to the shower, for no reason other than I want to be ready to talk to Cole when he returns.
I hyper focus on picking out my clothes to calm my mind; I settle on outfit number three, and dress in dark jeans, and a navy V-neck tee, with navy Converse, a decision that becomes ridiculously complicated. I’ve just finished flat-ironing my hair and applying a light touch of make-up and lip gloss when my phone rings and I all but jump out of my skin. I grab it, hoping it’s Cole, but it’s Cat. “Hey, you,” she says. “How are you?”
“I’m okay. Cole is not. I’m not sure what to do, Cat. He’s really in alpha, protect-me mode, but it’s—I don’t what it is. He’s just not himself.”
“He called Reese and asked me to do a write-up about the case, and pressure the DA to find the real killer on your case.”
I walk into the bedroom and sink into the chair in front of the window. “I guess I now know how the meeting with the ADA went.”
“As far as they’re concerned, you got a guilty man off. There is nothing more they can do.”
I puff out a breath. “Except he was innocent and the real killer is still out there.” I sit up straight. “Which is why you can’t write that article. What if the real killer gets fixated on you?”
“I covered this entire case while it was happening. For me to demand a real answer would absolutely be in line with what I do. I’m handling it by way of me reporting a tip I received.”