Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
W ell, that was weeks of her life that she’d never get back.
Lissa barely looked up as the inquest was finally brought to a close, almost two months after the last fateful night of her contract with Angela. She’d been cleared of all wrongdoing, of course — but it had been a hell of a process. Some other bodyguards she knew refused to carry guns on the job, explaining that they were deterred not by a lack of confidence in their ability to use them, but by a very reasonable distaste for the amount of paperwork and legal drudgery that was associated with their use. At the time, she’d reasoned that they had to be exaggerating — but now, after having been through weeks upon weeks of bureaucratic hell, she fully sympathized with their position.
She didn’t regret anything she’d done — aside from a few bitter jokes to herself about how it would’ve been smarter to barricade the safe room shut, of course. She’d made a careful written record of her memory of events as soon as she’d been able for maximum reliability, and she’d spent the days that followed the shooting going over the night from every possible angle, including with the help of a few close friends she could trust to be impartial. Even doing their absolute worst as devil’s advocates, they couldn’t fault how she’d acted — and neither could she. Danny had lost his life as a result of the shot she’d discharged — she’d killed a man, that much was true, and she knew from experience that that weight would stay with her for life. But in taking his life, she had no doubt that she’d saved the life of her client. Possibly her own, too — though privately, she doubted that Danny would have managed to do her much damage.
And despite all of the anger and screaming she remembered from Angela that night, a lot of the fight went out of the young woman once cooler heads prevailed and it became clear that Lissa had a lot more of the sympathy of the police and the courts than Danny did. The threats of pressing charges vanished quite mysteriously when Angela’s parents arrived in town, and their testimony — as well as that of the police officers who’d attended the scene and the toxicologist who confirmed just how much speed had been in Danny’s system that night — was more than enough to clear Lissa’s name.
Nevertheless, the weeks that it dragged on for chafed at her. Not for financial reasons, of course. Angela’s parents quietly but firmly insisted on continuing to pay her full wage for the whole duration of the legal proceedings, and when she checked her account, she was surprised to note a hefty percentage had been added to what was already an exorbitant rate. She definitely wasn’t going to be in a worse financial position once all this cleared up — and the ruling meant that there would be no tarnishing of her professional reputation or interruption to her license to practice.
But still, Lissa knew in her bones that she wasn’t going back to work. As she stood on the steps of the courthouse, smoking a guilty cigarette, an old vice that always reared its head when she was stressed, she simply couldn’t entertain the prospect of taking on another client. Her inbox was full of inquiries, and there was a prickling of guilt running down her spine at the thought of continuing to ignore them now that she didn’t have the excuse of the legal proceedings to rely on. You’re just tired, she told herself, though she had an uneasy feeling she was bluffing. Now all of this is out of the way, you’ll be back to your usual self after a good night’s sleep.
But she could afford, at the very least, to take the rest of the night off. Maybe Blake would come over, she thought with another prickle of guilt. She definitely owed him a nice, relaxing night. They’d only been seeing each other for a few months when all of the crap with Angela had started, and she knew she hadn’t been a particularly fun girlfriend since then. Not that she’d leaned on him much. The first time she’d talked about the toll that the hearing was taking on her she’d seen genuine panic in his eyes and backed off immediately. Since then, she’d kept it light, sticking only to brief reports that the case was going well, if frustratingly slowly. Her job and her general vibe meant that a lot of men never even tried talking to her — it was important she do her best not to scare off the ones that actually got past that first hurdle.
She’d just hit send on a text telling Blake that the inquest was finally over and that she’d love to celebrate with a bottle of wine if he was free when she realized she’d missed a notification — Blake had left a voicemail sometime during the day, probably while her phone had been switched off for the hearing. Her expectant smile quickly faded when she listened to it, replaced by a horrible, cold certainty as he stumbled over a few awkward sentences, then muttered something about sending her an email and hung up. Sure enough, there was an email waiting for her — in her work account. He must have Googled her name to find it. She never gave that address out to people she met outside of work. Was he really that much of a coward?
Yes, as it turned out. Three long, rambling paragraphs that had taken him the better part of an hour to write, judging by the timestamps on the voicemail and the email. Forty-eight minutes to say that he couldn’t handle what he referred to as her ‘drama’ — she wondered how many times he’d drafted and re-drafted the pathetic email, not sure if it would be worse or better if he’d just hit send on a first draft. From the way he described it, you’d think she’d had a hysterical screaming meltdown in the middle of his family reunion — rather than briefly mentioning that there was some stressful stuff happening at work before quickly changing the subject.
Yikes, she thought, too bewildered by his fragility to even feel angry with him. That would come later, if her usual patterns were anything to go by. Calm, clinical detachment for a few hours, then the rage would turn up, right on time. Well, that gave her enough time to get home without subjecting the drivers of Chicago to her road rage, at least. But first… she opened her text chain with him, typed out a quick “Just got your email — disregard previous”, then blocked not only his number, but his email address and all of his social media accounts, too. That done, she headed home.
It was dark by the time she reached home. She’d missed her little one-bedroom apartment during the time she’d spent at Angela’s uncomfortably luxurious borrowed mansion. It had felt good to be back home during the inquest, but as she stepped into her cramped little living room and tried to work out if there was anything worth eating left in her fridge, she couldn’t find any trace of the usual sense of comfort this place brought her. She just felt restless, and trapped, and — yes, there it was, a little earlier than usual but as familiar as a brother — anger. Anger for the man she’d started calling her boyfriend against her better judgment. She was angry with Angela for putting her through so much absolutely unnecessary legal crap, and even angry with the hapless Danny, whose parents would even now be grieving one of the most senseless, avoidable deaths imaginable. The only people in the whole blasted affair she had any sympathy for were Angela’s parents — but even they had to accept at least some responsibility for how sheltered, indulged, and mindlessly entitled their daughter was.
Right now, it felt like the whole damn world was full of children. When was she going to meet some actual adults? When would someone come into her life who was actually capable of handling her?
There wasn’t much to eat in the fridge, but that was fine by Lissa. Right now, she was far more interested in the unopened bottle of wine that had been sitting in the door of the fridge for a week. She’d been looking forward to sharing it with Blake in celebration of the end of the inquest — a dark, bitter laugh escaped her as she grabbed the bottle by its neck and unscrewed the cap. No need to stand on ceremony when you drank alone, was there? She took a deep, bracing swig of the wine right there in the kitchen, then took it with her to the couch, where her laptop was waiting.
“To hell with all this,” she muttered to her empty apartment as the screen lit up before her. “I’m going on a trip .”