Chapter Eight
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.”
“I know you covered the case, but calling on the DA to hunt down someone who thinks they got away with murder is a whole other story.”
“I called for that the entire trial,” she says. “I do what I do because I have the power to make a difference in ways just like this. You and Cole and even the ADA are tied up. I am the only one who can move the dial. My readership is vocal and loyal, which is an honor they have allowed me because I talk to them in an honest way. They need to hear this.”
“Cat, I don’t think—”
“I started writing the article before Cole even called and right now I’m almost to your place. I want you to help me put the finishing touches on it. I want to turn it in for tomorrow’s publication.”
“Yes, please. Come over so I can talk you out of this.”
“Your hubby wants me to do it,” she says, a smile in her voice. “See you soon.” She disconnects.
I immediately try to dial Cole. He doesn’t answer. He went to the jail to see Roger. I know he did. My mind goes to Savage and I hurry out of the bedroom in hopes he can find out. I all but run down the stairs and hear him cursing, which only serves to freak me out and quicken my steps even more. “What’s wrong?” I demand, and he stands up to face me over the top of the couch.
“Sports,” he says. “Sorry about that. I curse when my team wins and I curse when my team loses.”
I breathe out. “Okay. I think Cole went to the jail to see Roger. Can you find out?”
“Yeah, sure. Hold on.” He slides his phone from his pocket and punches a button. “Yeah man,” he says to whoever he connects to. “Where’s Cole now? Got it. Later.” He disconnects. “At the jail.”
“Which explains why he’s not taking my calls.”
The doorbell rings and I turn toward it and Savage protests. “Don’t even think about it. I already let you get attacked once.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
He scrubs his two day-ish dark stubble. “Damn sure feels like it was.” He heads for the door.
“It’s Cat,” I call out.
“I know that as well as I knew the bathroom was clear,” he replies. “I’ll get the door. You stay here.” He charges toward the entryway.
I wait anxiously and the minute Cat appears with Reese by her side, I focus on him. “He’s at the jail. Should he be talking to Roger by himself?”
Reese is the one cursing now. “I’ll go there now.” He kisses Cat. “I’ll call you when I can.” With that, he’s already headed toward the door.
I press my hands to my face. “What are you doing, Cole?” I murmur, as if he can hear me.
Cat closes the space between us and grabs my hands. “You okay?”
“Not until he’s okay. Please don’t write that article. I cannot have you end up in the line of fire, too.”
“I’m not going to get hurt. We need to catch a killer. That’s what we all do together. And I know Cole knows this, but there is always a risk, but it’s a limited risk. Come read it.” She pats her briefcase. “And then you and Savage can give me ideas.”
“I’m in,” Savage says, turning off the television. “I like to catch me a bad guy, always, and our team is in on this now.”
“Let’s go make coffee,” Cat suggests.
I nod and a few minutes later I’m sitting with both of them in the kitchen reading Cat’s article out loud, focused on one important section:
What is the role of the District Attorney? Is it to get a conviction at all costs, including the life of an innocent man, or is it to convict the right person? If you didn’t answer “convict the right person,” let me give you something to think about. If Edward Sullivan wasn’t guilty, and a jury says he was not, who raped and killed those women? And can someone like that just stop killing? Statistically, the answer is no, they will not. Maybe they moved on to another city, state, or even country, but that killer is out there. What if you, or someone you love, is the next victim?
A reliable source has told me that law enforcement, and I include the DA in this category, has leads they could follow up on to catch the real killer, but they have not. That would, of course, require that they admit they attacked and ruined the life of an innocent man. Let’s just face it. Even if you’re innocent, if you’re accused of raping and killing four women, you will always be a rapist and a killer. What do you say on a date? By the way, I was on trial for rape and murder, but don’t worry! I was innocent.
We must demand that the District Attorney, and our members of law enforcement, uphold their honor to protect us, and I for one, do not feel protected. I feel naked and exposed. If you too feel naked and exposed, I challenge you to tweet, call and even visit the offices of the people I will list out at the end of today’s entry of Cat Does Crime. Until tomorrow, stay safe —Cat
“That’s damn good and accurate,” Savage says. “Too often the politics of an organization win and the DA just wants to calm the public and ensure election year goes well. It’s an effed-up mess.”
Cat looks at me. “Well?”
“You’re saying ‘look at me’ to a killer.”
“I disagree,” she says, “but hey. If Reese wants to take me to Paris to get me out of town, like Cole just did you, I’m in.” She scoots her MacBook to the side. “Let’s talk about the suspects.”
“For what purpose?” I ask, growing more and more concerned about her putting herself on the line.
“For the purpose of my team following up,” Savage says, glancing at Cat, clearly thinking what I’m thinking as he says, “Right, Cat? Because this article is enough. We’ll take it from there.”
“Correct,” she says. “Reese and I agreed that I’d pull back after the article ignites fire for my readers.” She looks at me. “Let’s do what we do. Let’s investigate for a book we’ll write together later, after Savage and his people catch the killer.”
“There was a boyfriend of one of the victims and another professor who worked with our client, teaching in the same building,” I say. “We used them both in the trial to create reasonable doubt but I always believed it was the boyfriend.” I look at Savage and change subjects. “Can you check on Cole?”
“He’s fine,” he says. “My team has eyes on him.”
I stand up. “I’m going to try to call him again.” I punch in his auto-dial and start to walk out of the room, but I get his voicemail. I turn to face Cat. “Can you call Reese?”
“He’s not been gone that long,” she says, patting the table. “Come sit. I’ll order us cookies from the corner bakery and we’ll stuff our faces and solve this murder so your man can stop fretting.”
“Yes. Please. To all of those things.”
I’m standing in the holding room when Reese is brought in to join me. “You didn’t need to come.”
“If you kill the guy,” he says, “I’m out a new partner and that can’t happen.”
He steps to me, close enough to ensure anyone listening is tuned out. “You could make things worse.”
“Or I could convince him that we’ll find the real killer,” I say.
“Or you could jump over the desk and beat the shit out of him like I would if he attacked Cat, and end up in jail yourself.”
“It would be worth it.”
“No,” he says. “It wouldn’t. We’ll take this on together, man. You and Lori are family. We’ll do this together.”
Family. He hits about ten nerves with that statement, a few I didn’t know still existed until that bathroom, until I saw that man charging at my wife. “Lori is my wife.”
“And our family,” he argues.
The door buzzes and we both turn to face the guard. “He said to tell you that the only place he’ll see you is a dark alleyway and ‘fuck you.’ And yes, I’ll write up a sworn statement to that effect, but you shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.”
“We’re leaving now,” Reese assures him.
My jaw clenches and I look skyward, not sure if I really wanted to talk to that man or beat the shit out of him. I’m pretty sure the latter. Yeah. The latter. I was going to hurt him. I want to hurt him. I grab my briefcase and head for the door and I don’t stop until I’m exiting the building with Reese quickly stepping to my side. “My car—”
“No,” I say glancing over at him. “I’m walking. I need to clear my head.”
“Talk to me, man.”
“I need to clear my head.”
“Cole, stop.”
Fuck. I stop and face him. “I need—”
“I get it, but this is you and me. What is going on in your head?”
“Nothing good fun and fucking my wife won’t solve, preferably in the opposite order, but not yet. I need to think. I love you, man, but give me some space.”
He studies me a moment and reluctantly, it seems, he nods. “You know where to find me.”
“I do,” I say and I start walking again.
Two hours after Reese went after Cole, he returns, without Cole. Savage collects him from the door, and he joins us in the kitchen. “He’s clearing his head. He’ll be back soon.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’ll be home soon,” he assures me, but he isn’t home soon.
Two hours later, I’m still in the kitchen with Cat, Reese, and Savage, working the clues to the murders, but I’m barely hearing anything they say. I’m about to try to call Cole again when the front door opens and closes. I am immediately on my feet and before I can even leave the kitchen, Cole appears in the doorway, the lines of his handsome face, strained and hard.
His eyes meet mine, and I can’t read what I find there when I can always read Cole. “I need to be alone with my wife,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
There are murmurs of agreement and Reese motions to Cat to follow him. Everyone disappears from the kitchen but me, and I quickly pursue. By the time I’m in the living room, Cole is joining me, lacing his fingers with mine to walk us to the couch where he sits down and drags me on top of him. He doesn’t speak, he just tangles his fingers in my hair and says, “I have something to tell you.” But he doesn’t tell me. He kisses me. A deep, dark tormented kiss that says more than words.
He has to tell me, but he doesn’t want to.