CHAPTER 32
Luke tossed the plastic bag into the backseat of the car and ducked into the passenger seat. Annie already had the car running and backed out of her parking spot as soon as he closed the door, her unbraced hand crossing over her damaged one as she turned the wheel. Could Brian really be in jail?
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Luke asked, turning his body to face Annie until the seat belt pressed against his neck. He felt impatient; he wanted to get answers quickly, but sitting in the car together reminded Luke of their road trip and how close he felt to her on that drive home.
“I turned Brian in,” she said calmly, as if it wasn’t the bravest thing she’d ever done. “I’ve been compiling evidence against him for weeks now. I was going to use it if he ever hurt me again”—she held up her wrist—“but then Terry called and asked Brian about finding an experienced lawyer. I knew he was behind your arrest as soon as I saw his face. So, I put it all together, got my own lawyer, and went down to the police station first thing this morning.”
“And they believed you?” Luke asked. It seemed pretty far-fetched after twenty years on the force.
“It wasn’t that simple.” She shook her head, eyes fixed on the road. “They brought Brian in for questioning, and I gave them permission to search the house. Once they found the pills, I mean, the evidence tags were still on some of them, then they started to take me seriously. In the end, it was Brian who got you off.”
“He seemed pretty set on sending me away for a long time when he came to see me last night.”
“Oh God. He came to gloat? Did he hurt you?” She shot him a quick glance, checking him over with her eyes.
“No. I’m fine.” Luke pushed his hands farther under the hem of his untucked shirt. Self-inflicted wounds were far more embarrassing to explain. “He didn’t admit to anything openly, just implied it.”
“Well, he screwed up on the denial game during the interrogation. My lawyer was listening in, and he said that once they presented him with the evidence, Brian didn’t try to avoid the possession claim. His excuse was that the drugs weren’t for him. He’d borrowed them to set you up because”—she hesitated, embarrassed—“because you were sleeping with his wife.” Annie flicked on the turn signal and glanced an extra three times down the road to make sure it was empty. Luke chuckled despite Annie’s discomfort.
“Hmm. I’m guessing his fellow officers didn’t seem to find this a good excuse for stealing evidence.” Brian had been so sure that his time on the force would save him. Luke was relieved to see that his coworkers despised crime from any perpetrator.
“Nope. And this is serious stuff. He’s in big trouble.” She shook her head as she spoke, almost as though she were delivering bad news. “There’s so much evidence against him, no way he’ll be getting out anytime soon.” Her words turned up a little at the end, sounding almost boastful, but her eyes were moist. “At least I hope not.”
“You are so brave.” Luke looked at her with new eyes. Annie saved him. She was the reason for his freedom and why Brian was behind bars. After all these years of abuse, it took having to save someone else to motivate her to leave. Why was saving herself never enough? She was stronger than he’d ever been—she stood up to her abuser, freed herself. She was his hero. “I’ll help you. You’ll never have to face him alone. I promise.”
A blush crawled up the side of her face he could see, her lips twisted to the side hiding a smile. It felt so right having her back in his life.
“You know that letter Natalie sent me?”
“The one you told me I could never read right after you waved it in front of my face?”
“Yup,” she chirped.
“Nope, never heard of it,” Luke teased, feeling lighter than he had in nine months. It was gone, his obsessive desire to read any and all of Natalie’s letters. If he never saw another flash of blue when he collected the daily mail, he’d be okay.
“Do you want to know what it said? ’Cause there’s a lot about you in there.” She took another right turn onto the street with the shopping center with Kroger and a semidecent Chinese place he used to sneak Natalie egg rolls from. They were getting close to the hospital.
“Only if you want to tell me.”
“I want to tell you.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they pulled into the hospital parking lot.
“Then I want to hear it.”
The parking lot was nearly empty. Annie found a spot on the right side of the large, boxy structure, shut off the engine, and then turned to face him.
“She told me lots of things about the kids, about life, stuff that was only meaningful to the two of us. But at the end she told me two things.” She held up one finger on her braced hand. “One—that I deserved more than the life I was living.” Her gaze lingered on her brace, and she dropped her hand. “And, two”—another finger went up—“that I should be your friend. Not just a casual friend either. Close friends. Best friends.”
Luke covered Annie’s hand, and her fingers tightened around his. He dared to look her in the eyes. They were nearly transparent, like the sea glass Alex Kerks kept in his office when Luke’s dad still worked for him. Alex’s glass was cloudy, but Annie’s eyes were crystal, shining with tears.
“Soooo,” he dragged out the word playfully, “you’re saying Natalie forced you to be my friend?”
“No.” She smacked his arm, and he faked a flinch. “At first I thought she wanted me to look after you. Then, after our trip to Pentwater, I realized she wanted us to be friends because”—she paused and bit her lip—“I needed you too.”
The admission hung in the air, and Luke inhaled it like oxygen. All this time he’d been feeling guilty, selfish even, for feeling like he needed Annie. To know their relationship was symbiotic, that Natalie had recognized that fact long before either of them knew it was a possibility, almost made him forgive her for all the secrets she’d hoarded.
Luke sniffed. “I should really get in there.” He pointed to the five-story brick structure. “You want to come in?”
“I can’t actually.” She fiddled with the key chain dangling from the ignition. “Will is watching Clayton, and I promised I’d relieve him so he could get to cross-country practice.”
“Oh, that works,” Luke said, wanting to tell Annie about Jessie being Neal’s daughter and how he wanted her by his side the first time he met the man, but Annie jumped back in before he could say anything more.
“So, here’s the thing.” She turned her body toward Luke. “I care about you . . . a lot. And if you feel even a little bit of the same in return, then us, together”—she gestured back and forth between them—“could be great.” She bit the inside of her cheek, turning her hopeful smile into a smirk. Luke knew she was right. He could definitely fall in love with Annie.
“But?” he added, knowing it was coming.
“But”—her smile faltered—“I’m not ready to be with someone right now. I don’t think you are either.”
“I’m not looking to rush into anything.” Luke licked his lips, hoping what he said next wouldn’t scare her away. “But I don’t think you should stay away either. Haven’t we spent enough time apart?”
Annie picked at the leather stitching on her steering wheel. “Oh, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.” She pointed a long finger at him. “Now don’t be getting cocky. It’s the kids I find irresistible, not you.”
“You forget—I can tell when you’re lying.”
Annie tried to hold back a snicker, but failed. Luke promised himself he’d give her more reasons to snicker, giggle, or outright laugh. Then he saw his opening. “Tomorrow is Clayton’s birthday party. I’m not sure if everyone still feels up to it—it depends upon what happens with Jessie—but we will at least have cake. Would you want to come?”
“Actually, Terry already invited me before this mess.” She gestured at the air, frowning. She was trying to cover up her sadness, but Luke could still see it. “I told her no.”
He nodded, working very hard to be understanding. She was in mourning. It was different than his, but valid nonetheless. “Okay. Just text me if you change your mind.”
“I’ll let you know. Matt is flying in from DC for the weekend.”
“He is? That’s great news. He hasn’t been home for . . .”
“Over a year,” she said, finishing his sentence. “When he left for college, he told me he wouldn’t come back if Brian still lived there. I never told you.” Her eyes grew damp, nose quivered, about to break down. She threw a hand over her mouth like she was trying not to throw up. “I was too ashamed. I chose Brian over my own son. That’s messed up.”
“Hey.” Luke forgot the invisible line he was trying to respect and reached out to squeeze Annie’s shoulder. “I’ve been obsessing about letters from my dead wife. I think I win the award for ‘most messed up person’ in this car.”
“This is a strange competition.”
“Well, we aren’t exactly a normal pair, are we?”
“No.” Annie placed her cheek against Luke’s hand. “We’re not.”
They sat in silence for a second, the light pressure of her cheek against his fingers making it nearly impossible for Luke to remove his hand from her shoulder voluntarily. It only lasted a moment, a few strings of breaths inhaled and exhaled before she sighed, sat up, and broke the spell.
The familiar comfort of her company was proving harder to leave than he expected. With one last squeeze, he forced himself to release her shoulder and reach through to the backseat for his belongings. Reemerging through the space between the seats, he passed inches from Annie’s cheek. The scratches he’d wanted to kiss three weeks earlier were healed, leaving only faint white lines along her cheekbones and above her eyebrow.
Before he could stop himself, Luke leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek. It was only for a moment, not long enough to notice the texture of her skin or scent of her shampoo, but it was enough. He sat back, unlatched his seat belt, and opened the car door. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” She waved, and Luke pushed the door shut.
Luke walked with broad, sure steps toward the entrance to the hospital. Maybe he had been wrong when he told Natalie he could never love again. What he should’ve said was he couldn’t love anyone the same way he loved her.
He entered the lobby through the front sliding doors with a dead cell phone and no idea where Jessie might be. A friendly-looking woman with a plump face sat behind the information desk. She’d know where Luke should go, but what would he find when he got there? What would he say to Neal? His child was lying in bed, terminally ill. This might not be the right time for a confrontation. He’d play dumb—for Jessie’s sake he’d pretend he’d never heard of Dr. Neal Townsend, that he wasn’t the reason Luke’s daughter was buried in some shallow grave somewhere.