I considered his request. It would be a shock to him, no doubt, but maybe if he saw his brother, he could move on like he’d said. He was no good to his family like this, and I hated to see him in so much pain.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Yes. Please, Caroline.”
I ignored my misgivings and led him back down the hallway. He kept close to my elbow.
“He’s in here. But it’s not pretty. I don’t want you to regret this.”
“He’s my flesh and blood. I have to see him one last time.” He pushed through the swinging doors and walked to the sheet-covered body in the center of the room.
“I’ll give you some privacy.” I started to back away.
“No, please don’t.” His plea cut my already-shredded heart.
“Okay.” I eased closer to him.
He reached for the edge of the sheet with a trembling hand and pulled it down. Tyler’s face became visible inch by inch as the fabric fell back. Luke gasped and wrapped his arm around my waist.
“Are you okay?” I looked up at his light blue eyes.
He replaced the sheet quickly. “Do they . . . do they know anything yet? About what happened?” He was so quiet I barely heard him.
“Not yet, but they’ll catch him. The time of death proves it’s not Rowan, at least. So there’s someone else out there. I have my eye on a suspect that lived at the same boardinghouse as Tyler and Rowan. It could be him, but even if it’s not, it’s only a matter of time before the killer is caught. Wash and I won’t stop until Rowan is exonerated.” The lie of the statement hit me only after the words left my mouth. I wouldn’t be on this case anymore once I put in my notice. I wouldn’t be working for Rowan or helping find Luke’s brother’s killer. I’d be giving up. But it was either that or wait for the boot.
“Want to go somewhere for some coffee?” Luke offered. “Not to pry, but it looks like you might need it, and I definitely do.”
“That would be great, actually.”
“I know a nice spot where we can talk.” He took his cap off and scratched his head, his salt-and-pepper hair sticking up every which way. He’d always been so collected at his office. Now, Tyler’s death had destroyed Luke’s quiet confidence, and I hoped he would be able to recover.
We left the hospital and headed for our separate cars, after agreeing to meet up at a coffee shop in the Garden District. Maybe some coffee and a chat would help him recover from the shock and help me clear my head enough to decide what to do after Palmer & Granade.
I made a halfhearted attempt to grab my phone and check for messages, but it must have sunk to the bottom of my bag. I didn’t see it and didn’t want to be confronted with any texts or calls from Wash anyway.
Chapter Twenty
Wash
The car ate up the interstate between New Orleans and Angola mile by mile. The radio was on. I didn’t hear it. Trent’s threat to fire Caroline was still foremost in my mind. I was the one who’d made the mess, but she’d be stuck suffering for it. I couldn’t let that happen.
I’d told Trent Caroline was fired. Then I told him I was leaving right along with her. I didn’t care what it looked like or if it hurt the firm. She was it for me. I had never wanted anyone the way I wanted her. Her wit, her smarts, her kindness.
I couldn’t let her go, so I would have to go with her. I’d be damned if I was going to sacrifice her for my career. I’d already given up plenty to have my name on the door. Even so, Palmer & Granade could go back to being Palmer & Associates. I could go out on my own. We could. Granade & Montreat. Hell, even Montreat & Granade. I didn’t care which, as long as we were together.
I smiled and thought about how we would run our office. Maybe I could enforce topless Tuesdays when we didn’t have any client meetings?
The memory of the first time I saw her floated through my mind. She was clearly a law school student, her clothes too casual, her hair in a rough ponytail as she sat and watched me try a case. She had been impossible to miss, her wide eyes and eager expression. It had been years, but I recalled how her eyes had followed me as I walked the well in front of the jury, examining witnesses and evidence. I’d wanted to ask her to coffee then, but didn’t want to get the reputation as the sort of attorney who chased after hot law students. Still, she had stuck with me so strongly that I’d tracked her down, found out where she attended school, and put in a good word with Trent about her hiring. I’d brought her to me. And, I realized, I intended to keep her.
The rest of the drive to Angola was filled with considerations of how to separate my book of business from Trent’s, which other associates, if any, to take with us, and where we could get office space. But what if she said no? A sinking sensation rushed through me.