37. Chapter 37
Iwake up with my head in a vice. My mouth is so dry my tongue feels like it is cracking, and my eyelids are suctioned to my eyeballs as I try to pry them open. I am lying face down sprawled across the bed, wearing a backward sleep shirt, my left arm dangling off the side. I pull it up and push myself over, so I roll onto my back, and am briefly startled by a little “Yip!” that sounds from behind me as I roll on top of Kennedy.
“Oh, sorry, buddy,” I croak out as I scooch over a little. He goes back to snoring.
Then I remember Knox is on the other side of the door, on the couch. Or at least that’s where I left him. Maybe he left already? I recall what happened last night, coming back here after Emily had the baby. I pull my hand up to my lips and touch them with my fingertips, remembering his mouth on them.
Then I quickly blink that thought away. It’s only lust, I tell myself, and I can’t get caught up in fixing my heart with our bodies. I pull myself up too quickly, my stomach rolls and as soon as I’m on my feet I stumble a few steps toward the dresser and crash into it, catching myself with my hands. The thud causes Kennedy to stir again, and when I hear him whimper I turn to see his head up, cocked to the side as he assesses me.
“I’m OK, bud. Not one of my best mornings, but I’m fine.”
Then my brain spasms as I hear a soft rap on the bedroom door. “Lizzie? You OK?”
So, Knox is still out there.
“I’m good,” I say. “Just getting my legs under me. Be out in a minute.”
“I’m making pancakes,” he says through the door.
Huh?“Um, OK. But I’m pretty sure there’s no flour … or eggs … or syrup, for that matter.” I rub my temple as I push myself to a fully upright position, so I’m standing on my own,
“I ran to the store and bought a mix. And orange juice. And a few other things since, well, it looked like you didn’t have much.”
“Yeah,” I cut him off. “I get it.” And then I mull over my current situation: My estranged husband is making pancakes and “picking up a few things” from the store to fill my cupboards, after we had hot hate/love sex, which he probably thinks was “welcome back” but to me was “goodbye.”
Maybe.
Possibly.
God, I just don’t know anymore.
I need to shower, but my stomach growls, and I really want some damn pancakes. So instead, I grab a pair of underwear and sweats from the drawer and tug them on. I glance at myself in the mirror and am horrified by the sight. Licking my thumbs, I try my best to swipe away the mascara smudged under my eyes, then I pull the hair tie out of my hair, gather it back up and try to slick down the fly-away pieces as I re-secure it.
The final result looks very much the same.
As soon as I open the door, Kennedy leaps from the bed and rushes past me into the main area of the apartment. He runs right up to Knox, who has his back to me as he flips pancakes at the stove.
“Hey, boy,” I hear Knox greet him, then see him drop a piece of bacon the dog snatches mid-air. When he turns and sees me, his eyes widen a bit.
“Don’t,” I say, putting a finger up. “Not one word about my state of being this morning.”
Knox pulls his lips between his teeth to hide his smile and whatever the hell was about to come out of his mouth. With a spatula he points to the stool at the island sitting in front of a plate that has pancakes stacked on it, and I take slow, steady steps in that direction.
“Juice?” he asks as I near. He’s already uncapping a bottle of water and setting it in front of me.
I shake my head. “Just water. And coffee. Lots, and lots of coffee. Please.”
Knox pulls a mug down from a top cupboard and fills it with coffee from the pot he must have brewed this morning. Then he grabs the half-and-half from the fridge, sets both on the island, and pushes them toward me.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
Knox rests his hands wide on the island on the other side of me, so he’s looking right at me. “You’re welcome,” he says, then waits for me to look up at him and meet his eyes, and he holds it for a moment before he turns back toward the stove and picks the spatula back up.
I pick up a pancake, tear off a piece and stuff it into my mouth, grateful for the dry, fluffy, sweet sustenance to put in my body. Anything else would surely be rejected this morning.
“What time do you have to be at work?” Knox asks without turning around.
I swallow a large bite, then take a sip of coffee after adding half-and-half. “Um, I don’t really have any appointments today, so I guess I can mosey on in whenever.”
After a moment of silence, I ask, “You?”
Knox turns to flop two more pancakes on the plate. “I told Tommy and Gino I’d be a little late today. But I should probably be there no later than ten. We’ve got roofers coming today and they need instruction.”
I swallow quickly. “Well, don’t keep them waiting on my account. You didn’t have to make breakfast. I mean, I’m grateful you did, but I can clean up if you have to run.”
Staring right at me, Knox waits a beat before he answers. “I’ve got time.”
I look down because I don’t know what to say. Then I pick up a pancake and toss it in his direction. He catches it awkwardly between his hand and his chest, then tears a bite off with his teeth. “Mmm, damn! I really do make good pancakes!” he says through a mouthful.
“It’s a box mix, Chef Gordon Ramsey. Don’t pat yourself too hard on the back.”
We both laugh, and then it’s quiet for a few minutes. Awkward.
Knox clears his throat, and I start to panic because I know that means he’s about to talk, and I’m sure he’s going to want to talk about last night, or us, or something else I don’t have the capacity to discuss right now, but thankfully our attention is drawn to Kennedy scratching at the floor under the fridge.
“Good grief, buddy, what is it? What is under there that you want so badly, huh?” I ask. “There must be food or something under there that he smells, because—”
“It’s your wedding band,” Knox interrupts me, and I just stare at him. “When you threw them at me, your wedding band rolled under there and I couldn’t get it. I tried, but my arms are too big.”
I think about it for a minute, stunned that we are going to talk about that night so casually, then shake my head. “That can’t be it. He can’t possibly smell my wedding band.” I get up and round the island and start trying to tug the refrigerator out of place.
“No,” Knox says, joining me. “But he can probably see it.”
“Yeah, but his scratching only just started,” I grunt out.
Together we heave the refrigerator, inch by inch, away from the wall and out of the little nook it sits in. Once it’s out of place we both stand there and stare at what’s underneath. There sits my wedding band, and next to it is a little baggie filled with clouded crystals.
Slowly, I bend down to pick up both the ring and the baggie. I trap the wedding band in my palm as I examine the contents of the bag, without opening it. Then I snap my eyes up.
“What the fuck is this, Knox?!”
He actually takes a step back, and puts up his hands. “Whoa! No! No way! That is not mine. Lizzie, I swear to God on … on … on my mother’s grave! That is not mine!”
For some reason, I believe him. “Well, then how the hell did it get here?”
Knox takes the baggie from my hands and turns it over in his own. “Looks like crystal meth,” he says, and my heart breaks at the realization that he even knows what that looks like. He must read the look on my face, because he shakes his head, his silent way of telling me he’s never touched that stuff. “It’s just a guess,” he says. “How long has Kennedy been scratching under the refrigerator?”
“Um,” I chew my lip in thought as I cross my arms over my chest. “Ever since the break in, I guess. Yeah, since Sanders and that other guy broke in.”
“Sanders? How do you know it was Sanders?”
“Oh, well, the chief showed me a shot from a surveillance video from down the street that shows Sanders and some other guy walking away from the apartment right about the time they believe the intrusion happened.”
Knox tosses the drugs onto the counter and runs both his hands down his face while leaning against the kitchen island, so he’s standing opposite me. “What about the other guy? Any idea who he was?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve never seen him before.”
“Why the hell would Sanders break into our apartment and leave drugs hidden here?” he asks. I chew on my thumbnail, and I know Knox can tell I want to say something. “What is it?” he insists.
I look at the ground before looking back up at him. “Does Sanders know you used drugs in the past? Could he be trying to set you up?”
Knox blows out a breath. “I mean, he’s friends with Bram. At least, I thought he was. Gonna have to have a conversation with Bram about that dude. But, yeah, Sanders’ stepfather is some big developer. Layton, Leeman? Anway, he could know, I guess—”
“Knox.”
He stops at my interruption. “What is it?”
“It’s just …”
He takes a step and crosses over to me, so his back is leaning against the same countertop mine is, so we are now side by side. “Say it. Ask it. Say or ask anything you want to, Lizzie. We need to figure this out.”
“Chief Scott told me he thinks Sanders stole drugs from the scene of the crash, when you hit that woman. They think either you or Jenny had drugs on you, and Sanders took it. They think Sanders has been lifting drugs from crime scenes for almost a year now.”
Knox turns and faces me, taking my shoulders in his hands as he waits for my eyes to connect with his. When they do, he says, sternly, “Lizzie, I promise you I had no drugs on me that night. I haven’t used in … God, years. I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. I don’t know if Jenny had drugs on her that night. It’s very possible. I don’t talk to her anymore, but I do know she was in a bad place back then.”
Knox starts to pull me toward him, but I quickly pull my shoulders out of his hold and turn away from him. I need to think, and I can’t do it with him so close.
Why? Why would Sanders, and some other guy, break into our apartment and leave drugs, not try to find them? Why would he leave drugs here when he’s taking them from crime scenes? Unless …
“Lawler?” I ask quietly, my back still to Knox. When he doesn’t respond, I turn to face him. “Sanders’ stepfather? Is it Lawler?”
Nodding, Knox says, “Yeah, that’s it. Why?”
I close my eyes as I try to harness all my thoughts. Then I open my eyes and declare, “He’s planting them.”
Knox pulls his brows together.
“Sanders is not stealing drugs, he’s planting them.”
Now Knox crosses his arms across his chest. “Why would he do that?”
I sigh. “Gerard Lawler wants to develop a new police station downtown, and I’m betting it would only help things along to make it look like the police are successful in their crack down on drugs. And to fabricate more successful cases of drug seizure, well, I wonder if Sanders is planting drugs so they can be confiscated by police. Hence, the wild uptick in drug arrests.”
Knox blows out a breath and runs his hands through his hair. “I mean, it seems plausible, but it also seems like it could be a long shot.”
“Definitely,” I concede. The wheels start turning in my head. There were no drugs found on Jerome King, or at the scene of Knox’s crash. Why wouldn’t Sanders plant drugs then? Can I trust that Jenny didn’t have drugs on her the night of the crash?
Suddenly, I’m filled with the need to finally get answers. “Uh, look, I’m gonna take a shower and head to work. I need to go through some notes and figure a few things out.”
“Yeah, of course,” Knox says. He turns to push the refrigerator back into its place, so I help him. Once it’s back in place I realize I still have my wedding band tucked in my left palm. I open my hand, and Knox and I both look down at it. Somehow it seems so heavy. Like it holds so much weight. It sits in my palm only two inches from where I can still see the dent in my finger from where I wore it for so many years.
“Liz—” Knox starts, but I quickly pluck the ring out of my palm with my other hand, bend down, and fling it back under the refrigerator. When I stand up Knox is staring at me. I can’t tell if he’s hurt, or confused.
That makes two of us.
Brushing my hands together, I say, “I just figure, it’s been safe under there since I took it off. So, I’ll keep it there until I decide what to do with it.” Then I turn and start toward the bedroom. “I have to shower and get to work. Lock the door on the way out.”
I take a step, and then remember the drugs sitting on the counter. I swivel and grab the baggie, then dump the contents down the garbage disposal before, once again, heading toward the bedroom.
I shut the door behind me and call Dee as I start to undress, and she answers on the second ring, “Whores for hire. How can I be of service?”
That gives me a chuckle. “You really are the weirdest woman on the planet, you know that?”
“It’s one of the things I’m most proud of.”
I sigh. “Any chance I can get another ride today?”
“Don’t tell me you have more car trouble?”
“No.” I grab a towel off the rack in the bathroom and turn on the shower. “I left my car at the hospital—”
“The hospital?!”
“Yes. Oh, shit, no! Sorry, I buried the lead.” I give her the Cliff’s Notes version of night, and she says she can give me a ride, no problem. I call Bram next, and Emily answers the phone. She informs me my car is still at the hospital.
I get out of the shower and dress quickly in tight jeans and a Foo Fighters T-shirt, then dry my hair so I don’t get pneumonia when I go outside. I still have a few minutes before Dee will be here, so I apply some makeup.
Truth is, I’m not going to work today. I have someone I have to visit. And it’s long overdue.
And I don’t want to look like shit when I get there.
I swing open the bedroom door to find Knox sitting on my couch petting a sleeping Kennedy, who is curled up next to him. “You’re still here,” I say as I come to a screeching halt.
He looks me up and down before he replies. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“No,” I shake my head. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. It’s just, I thought you would have left.”
“You don’t have your car here.”
“Oh, yeah, I called Dee. She’s coming to get me. She’ll be here any minute.” I head toward the coat closet and pull out my jacket, then shrug into it before grabbing my sneakers, and I lean my ass against the wall as I slip them on and tie them.
Knox runs his hand over his jaw as he works it back and forth, then splays his hands wide, his elbows resting on his knees. “Why wouldn’t I just drive you to get your car?”
I pull my hair out from under my jacket as I straighten up, then let out a sigh. “Because, Knox, we’re a little fucked up right now, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, believe me, I noticed,” he grunts.
I grab my purse off the counter and sling it across my body. “I don’t have time for this. Please lock the door when you leave.”
I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear Knox’s heavy footfalls behind me. I turn and see he is shrugging into his own coat. “Lizzie, look, I know we’re fucked up, as you so eloquently put it, but I think I should stay here until we figure out why the hell Sanders and another asshat broke in here and left drugs.”
“Yeah, not gonna happen.” I push open the door to the outside and find that, despite the snow on the ground, it’s quite a bit warmer than it was yesterday. And sunny.
“Then come stay at my dad’s with me. Or, you can stay at my dad’s, and I’ll stay here. Either way, I don’t want you to stay here by yourself.”
I spin on my heel to face Knox. “No, you see, you don’t get to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Try to rescue me!” I shout, arms outstretched. “You did this. You chose this.” Now I’m pointing my finger at his chest. “And you know what? You don’t get to ask me about a phone number you found on the refrigerator. You don’t get to know what’s going on in my life. You had plenty of secrets when we were together, so now you can live with the fact I’ll have some of my own.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t have any secrets!” Knox is now flailing his arms. “Jenny and I didn’t have a relationship. We weren’t screwing around. It was one dark, messed up time and you found out the very next morning.”
“After I found the used condom in your truck! Oh, and after you fucked me the same night!” We are both breathing heavily now. A beat goes by. “That wasn’t the first time you disappointed me, was it?” I can see the anger starting to boil behind his eyes, and I like it.
“OK. OK, so we’re digging up the past now? Is that what we’re doing?” Knox wipes a bead of sweat from his brow despite the chill in the air.
I can’t answer him.
“Tell me,” he pleads. “Tell me I’ve never been good enough for you. TELL ME!”
I jump at his sudden rage.
“Tell me I partied too much. Tell me I played fast and loose with the drugs. Tell me I couldn’t measure up to your college buds. Tell me all I was ever bound to do was hang onto my daddy’s coattails. TELL ME!”
“OK!” I shout. Clutching my fists to my stomach, I squeeze my eyes shut then blink them back open. “You were a drug lush. And, yes, you have always clung tight to your dad’s company but not because you weren’t good enough. You are so talented, Knox. You should branch off and start your own business. But you never will because you self-sabotage, and you make excuses.”
I see his brows rise, and I know I’m treading on thin ice, but I don’t care. I’m ready to rumble. “Well, you know what? It’s time to put your big boy pants on and grow the hell up.”
“Oh, I need to grow up?”
“YES!” We are now circling each other on the small plot of snow-covered grass in front of the apartment building, like jungle cats ready to pounce. I see the upstairs neighbor peeking out the window between the blinds, and a teenager shoveling snow on the sidewalk down the street has stopped to watch.
“Why did you even marry me, then? You knew who I was and what I brought to the table before you said, ‘I do,’ so why did you?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“Honestly,” I say softly, but sternly. “I’m asking myself the same thing right about now.”
I hear a car pull up and look over my shoulder to see Dee’s car idling on the street. Her door opens, and she steps out and looks over the roof at me and Knox, taking in the scene. “Everything OK?” she asks me.
“Can I just have a second?” I ask her.
She nods and gets back into the car.
I hear Knox shoot one last dagger my way. “I should have never asked, again,” he says. “After you …” He trails off, but I don’t let him get away with it.
“Say it,” I grit out.
“After we dodged that first bullet, and you ghosted me, I should have just stayed away. Saved myself a lot of fucking grief.”
My chest cracks open, both by his words and by the look on his face that tells me he already regrets them. But it’s too late.
Oh, I want you to incinerate, motherfucker. “Wow, your mother would be really proud of the man you’ve become, you know that?” I say.
Knox’s nostrils flare, he sucks in a sharp intake of air, and I swear his eyes water. I crossed a line. But I don’t care. I’m done caring. I don’t have any more care in me.
I turn and head toward the road and get in Dee’s car. She doesn’t say one word before she puts the car in drive and peels away from the apartment, and Knox, as fast as she can. She may not know exactly what went down, but she’s my best friend and that comes with enough intuition to know I need to get away, and fast.
Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth again and again as I look out the window, I remind myself there is a world beyond Knox. I existed before him, and I can exist after him.
Emily and the baby are both sleeping when I get to the hospital to retrieve my car, thankfully, because I have to pick up my key, and Bram is much less observant than Emily and doesn’t notice my mood or general unease.
Once I get in the car, I know I’m too fired up to waste this energy on someone undeserving, so I head right to the one place I’ve thought about going for months now. It’s already afternoon when I find a spot to park on the street and head up to the apartment building. I’ve only been here once or twice, but I know it’s the right place. I open the outside door and then hit the buzzer for the appropriate apartment number while I wait inside the entryway, behind a door that needs to be unlocked either with a key or from the inside.
I hit the buzzer again, and then a familiar voice answer. “Hello?”
The sound of her voice hits me in the gut, and while I remain silent, she answers again. “Hello? Anyone there?”
“Um, yeah,” I reply. “It’s, uh. It’s Lyzbeth.”
There’s a moment of silence, and I hear rustling coming through the speaker. “Look,” I say. “I just have to ask you a question about the night of the accident. It’s important. Can you come down?”
The line goes dead, and I wonder if that was her way of hanging up on me, but then I hear footsteps and see Jenny coming down the stairs. She has a long, thick, light gray open sweater wrapped around her, with her arms hugging her body, legs covered in skinny jeans. Her hair is piled in a messy bun. As she approaches the glass locked door she pauses, then hits a button, and it opens with a buzz. She steps into the entryway with me, and the door closes behind her.
Suddenly the air is thick, the space is small, and my hands are shaking.
So are Jenny’s.
She clears her throat and starts talking without looking at me. “I guess this visit is overdue,” she says softly. “Honestly, I thought you would be knocking on my door a lot sooner.”
“I’m only here because I have a very specific question for you, and after I get the answer, I really hope to never see you again. Never hear your name again. Never think of you again.”
She nods, her arms still crossed over her chest. “You said it has to do with the night of the accident?”
Now I nod. “Please answer me honestly. I will never ask you for anything else. Believe me, I don’t want to be here talking to you, but it’s important.”
Looking at her feet, a moment passes, then, “Ask me anything, Lizzie.”
I swallow, square my shoulders and look at Jenny’s face for the first time. She looks older. Tired, perhaps. “Did you have drugs on you the night of the crash?” I ask.
She hesitates for just a second before she answers, “Yes.”
I let out a breath. “Did Knox?”
“No.” This time her answer is immediate. “And he didn’t know I had the drugs on me.”
Now I cross my arms over my chest. I run my tongue along my top teeth while I look at the floor in thought. “Do you know a guy named Sanders? He’s an EMT. Friends with Bram.”
Jenny tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, actually. But I’ve only ever met him in passing. He does poker nights with some of the guys.”
I nod. “Do you have any idea why he would want to hide drugs in our apartment? Or, on the other hand, why he would steal drugs from crime scenes?”
Jenny shakes her head. “No. I have no idea. Do you know if it was just him?”
“No. Actually, there was another guy with him. The cops have a photo from video surveillance. The guy has short, spiky black hair and a lip ring.”
Jenny stills, and the color leaves her face. “Was he tall, and kinda broad-shouldered.”
“Yeah, he looked like a pretty big guy.”
Jenny swallows and curses under her breath. “Did you tell Knox about him? The other guy in the photo?”
I suck in a breath at hearing Knox’s name come out of her mouth. When I simply stare at her, she continues. “His name is Marcus, and he’s dangerous. He still hangs out at the pub we used to go to. He’s a dealer. Last I knew he was pretty low-level, but if I had to guess, he’s the one making Sanders steal drugs for him. As for leaving anything at your apartment, well I’d say that’s personal. He’s trying to get Knox into trouble.”
Hearing her use Knox’s name so carefree is giving me blurry vision.
“Why is it personal?” I manage to squeeze out.
Jenny looks away, and I suspect it’s because she doesn’t want to answer me. Then she draws in a breath. “The night of the accident, I got into trouble with Marcus, and Knox had to bail me out, so to speak.”
I shake my head. “I thought you guys went out with a bunch of coworkers that night?”
Jenny has the decency to look ashamed as I realize the lie I had been fed. I click my tongue and grit my teeth as a weight settles over us. I let out a huff. “Wow, so I’ve really been in the dark much longer than I thought, huh? You must think I’m really stupid.”
“No, Lizzie, it’s not—”
And before I know it, she is stumbling back and catching herself against the wall, holding the side of her face, as my hand swings across my body and I have to take a step to steady myself, as well.
I shake my hand out as she rights herself, rubbing her jaw and poking her tongue out the side of her lip, where a little blood has surfaced. “I deserved that,” is all she says. “Like I said, I’ve been waiting for it. And I don’t blame you. In fact, you want access to the other side? It might actually make me feel better to take a beating.”
I take a step back toward the outer door. “Do you remember the night you called me after that party years ago, and told me that Knox was on a bender, and I had to find him strung out and near death? Do you remember what I told you then?”
Jenny is nodding. Of course, she remembers.
“I meant it. You and I were never friends, and I should have never second-guessed my assessment of you.”
I push the outside door open, but I hear Jenny following behind me. “Lizzie, wait! You need to know what happened the night of the accident.”
“Actually, I don’t,” I say as I continue walking toward my car.
“It was all my fault!” she says behind me, and I stop. “It was all my fault, and if I could take away his guilt, I would do it. If I could turn back time, I would.”
I take the last few steps to my car and unlock the door, then turn and look at her one last time.
“Yeah, well, life isn’t a Cher song, Jenny. Actions have consequences.” Then I get in my car, and drive away.