Reading Online Novel

Whiskey Beach(81)



“Do you have any suggestions on what to do about a duly authorized warrant?”

“Having to accept it isn’t the same as accepting it’s just the way life goes. I’m not a lawyer, but I was raised by one, and it’s pretty damn clear they had to push the envelope and push it hard to get a search warrant. And it’s just as clear that Boston cop did the pushing.”

“No argument.”

“He should be sanctioned. You should sue him for harassment. You should be furious.”

“I was. And I talked to my lawyer. If he doesn’t back off, we’ll talk about a suit.”

“Why aren’t you still mad?”

“Jesus, Abra, I’m making chicken from a recipe I got off the Internet because going around the house cleaning up cop mess pissed me off all over again, and I needed something to do with the mad. I don’t have any more room for the mad.”

“Looks like I do, and plenty of it. Just don’t tell me unfair and wrong is just the way it goes. The system’s not supposed to kick people around, and I’m not naive enough to believe it doesn’t sometimes do just that. But I’m human enough to wish it didn’t. . . . I need some air.”

She shoved up, strode to the terrace doors, and out.

Considering, Eli set down the knife, absently swiped his hands on the hips of his jeans, and followed.

“Not helpful.” She waved a hand at him as she paced around the terrace. “None of that was helpful, I know.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It’s been stuck in my gut since I heard, even though I put two enormous brownies in there with it.”

He knew the classic female reliance on chocolate, though he’d go for the beer instead. “How did you hear about it?”

“My morning yoga class, one of my students. Gossip’s her religion. And that’s bitchy. I hate being bitchy. Negative vibes,” she added, shaking her arms as if to shake those vibes loose to be carried off by the breeze. “It’s just that she’s so goddamn self-righteous, so concerned, so full of it. The way she talked it was like they’d sent in an assault team to pin down the crazed killer, who I have the bad judgment to sleep with. And she acts like she’s just worried for the community, and of course for me as you could smother me in my sleep or bash my head in or—

“Oh God, Eli.” She stopped short, appalled. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That was stupid. Stupid and bitchy and insensitive—three things I most hate to be. I’m supposed to cheer you up or support you—or both. Instead I’m snapping and slapping at you, and saying horrible and stupid things. I’ll stop. Or I’ll go and take my crappy mood with me.”

Anger and frustration flushed her face, he noted. Horrified apology lived in her eyes. And the breeze from the sea streamed through her hair so the wild curls danced.

“You know, my family, and the friends I have left, don’t talk about it. I feel them creeping around it like it’s a . . . not an elephant in the room but a fucking T. rex. Sometimes I felt it would swallow me whole. But they crept around it, didn’t want to talk about it any more than was absolutely necessary.

“‘Don’t upset Eli, don’t make him think about it, don’t depress him.’ It was damn depressing knowing they couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me how they felt, what they thought other than the ‘It’ll all be fine, we’re behind you.’ I appreciated knowing they’d stand up for me, but the screaming silence of that T. rex, and what they felt inside, almost buried me.”

“They love you,” Abra began. “They were scared for you.”

“I know it. I didn’t just come here because Gran needed someone in the house. I’d already decided I had to get out of my parents’ place, find a place—I couldn’t or hadn’t drummed up the energy to do it, but I knew I had to get away from that creeping silence—for myself and for them.”

She understood exactly. A lot of people had crept around her after Derrick had attacked her. Afraid to say the wrong thing, afraid to say anything at all.

“It’s been a terrible ordeal for all of you.”

“And back again because today I had to tell them what was going on before they heard about it from somebody else.”

Sympathy rolled through her again. She hadn’t thought of that part. “It was hard to do.”

“Had to be done. I played it down, so I guess that’s the Landon way of handling things. You’re the first one who’s said what you think, what you’re feeling, without filters. The first one who doesn’t pretend that T. rex isn’t right here, that somebody beat Lindsay’s head in, and plenty think it was me.”