Chapter Seven
Lori
Iblink into the sunlight of a new day, Saturday I believe, and find Cole standing at the bedroom window, hand pressed to the glass; he’s fully dressed in jeans, his impressive shoulders bunched with tension under snug a T-shirt. I sit up, his big T-shirt that I’d pulled from the suitcase after an early morning run to the bathroom, hugging my body. Throwing away the blankets, I sit up and eye the time, noting the eleven o’clock hour. Cole had been in bed with me, holding me a couple of hours ago. He wouldn’t let go of me all night.
Still feeling hung over from the time change, I stand up and Cole doesn’t turn. It’s odd behavior, but I have no choice other than to make a quick bathroom run, and then as it is also necessary, I brush my teeth and splash water on my face. I try not to think about the fact that I still have not started my period. Cat was right. I’m stressed and there was a time change. I’m not pregnant.
Exiting the bathroom, I’m shocked to find Cole in the exact same position. He hasn’t moved. I hurry toward him and when I’m by his side, I duck under his arm, stepping in front of him, my back against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Hey,” I say, resting my hand on his chest.
“Hey,” he says, his voice a rough timbre, but he doesn’t reach for me.
“How are you?”
He reaches up and brushes hair from my eyes, his touch as tender as the look in his eyes. “The question is, how are you?”
I have a momentary flash of that man charging at me that I shove away. Letting that screw with my head isn’t going to help Cole’s state of mind. “Except for worrying about you, I’m fine. What’s going on, Cole?”
“I’m meeting with the ADA handling the attack today and I might talk to your attacker. Roger Adams.”
“The brother of Rachel Adams, the final victim.”
“Yes,” he says, “and he still thinks our client was the killer.”
“He was her college professor, not her killer. The evidence showed it wasn’t him.”
“Agreed, but it’s easy to understand how the victims’ families feel. They thought justice was coming, but justice is not convicting the wrong man. It’s also not attacking the attorney that forces law enforcement to do their job and find the right killer.”
“About that,” I say, taking what feels like an opening that might actually be good for us all. “Cat and I were talking about writing a book on the case, and trying to find the real killer.”
His hands shackle my waist and he pulls me hard against him. “No. You will leave this alone. There’s still a killer out there, not to mention a man in jail who could have killed you. Do you understand?” He’s fierce, intense, out of his own skin.
“Cole,” I breathe out softly. “I think you need to talk to me.”
He stares at me two beats and then lowers his head, his forehead pressed to mine. “I found you,” he says. “I’m not going to lose you.”
My hands settle on his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere. We talked about this. Now tell me why this is so intense for you.”
He pulls back to look at me. “Because I love you and that’s new to me. Loving someone. Not wanting to lose them.”
“There’s more,” I say. “We both know there’s more to this.”
He cups my face. “I tell you everything. You know I do.”
“So tell me now.”
“Not now,” he says. “I have to meet the ADA for coffee in half an hour.”
“Can you push it back an hour so I can go?”
“No,” he says. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I’m a part of this, a big part of this,” I argue.
“Too big. You’re the one in danger.”
“I’m not in danger anymore,” I say. “You’re just—”
He kisses me hard and fast. “No. I need you to do this for me. Stay here.”
“On one condition,” I say. “You talk to me, really talk to me, when you get home.”
His lashes lower, and then lift. “We’ll talk,” he says, but he doesn’t say tonight. I catch that, but I let it go.
“So Roger is still in jail, for sure?”
“Yes,” he says. “I pressed the authorities to keep him there for a psych evaluation. We’ll know more about his mental condition tomorrow.” He kisses me. “I need to go. Savage is in the living room or I’d tell you to be naked when I get home. So, I’ll undress you when I get home.” He releases me and leaves.
I turn and once again, stare at the empty doorway where Cole was and no longer is. My beautiful, amazing man is broken in some way I do not understand. He’s not talking to me. He says he tells me everything, but he has not and I don’t know if I should push him to talk, or give him space and time. I just know that I have to decide before he returns.
There are things I have not told Lori, but it wasn’t intentional. There are things I don’t think about, that until now no longer existed, thus they were not a part of who, or what, I am. Except apparently, they are. Apparently, the ghosts of my past have knocked on the door and said hello by shoving a knife into my chest.
I’m about a block from the coffee shop, when I dial Savage’s boss, Blake Walker. “What kind of update do you have for me?”
“All is calm,” he says. “Lori’s mother is safe. The picketers apparently took Saturday off. Roger Adams is still in jail. Your client left the city. And yes, as you directed last night, we are looking for the real killer, and damn glad to do it. That lead you gave us, that tip-off about the real killer, it’s solid.”
“Do I need to get Lori out of town?”
“It depends on a lot of things,” he says. “I would assume Roger Adams to be unstable. If he gets the help he needs, he’ll be off the streets. If he’s set free, the problem you have is that he might just wait you out. I’m of the opinion that you just ride it out and if he comes at you again, we’ll get him locked up to stay.”
“If he comes at her,” I amend tightly.
“Man, I get it. She’s your wife. I get it.”
“And you’re going to tell me you’d keep your wife here?”
“She’s an ex-FBI agent that could kick most men’s butts, so that isn’t a fair question for me to answer. But I’m telling you my honest opinion, and I wouldn’t do anything to put anyone in harm’s way. Whatever you decide, though, we’re here.”
“Just get the killer. That ends this. I’m about to talk to the ADA and pressure him to do the same.”
“We’ll work with him. Just send him my way.”
“I’ll let you know. I’m at my meeting now. I’ll call you.”
We disconnect, and I enter the coffee shop, finding one man in the place at a back table. He stands when he sees me and I walk in his direction, assessing him as I go, impressed with his confidence. He’s tall, with sandy brown hair, and in fit condition. He’s in jeans and a T-shirt today, but still commanding. All good things. I want someone who catches a killer and puts him in jail, not something I feel every ADA I meet is capable of doing.
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.