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“So she decided to ruin my van,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, “and give them a chance to break into my apartment.”
“She didn’t tell me that,” Damien says, lifting up a broad palm. “In fact, she gave me a big sob story about her unfeeling daughter cutting off both her and her in-laws. But I get the sense your mother has a casual relationship with the truth.” He withdraws a drawing from the bag he carried in and sets it in front of me. “This guy look familiar?”
“No.”
“This is a near perfect likeness of a petty thief we’ve gotten to know pretty well. Our friend the sketch artist based it off Mrs. Longhorn’s description. I’ve already gotten in touch with the perp. He claims he had nothing to do with the break-in, but I’ll tell him we got him on camera. Which we do. He cased the place early in the morning a few days before the break-in. Probably to look at the cameras. He’s only on there for a second, but a second’s enough. He’ll talk.”
“To you?” I ask, dubious.
“To us,” Nicole says. “We can get anyone to talk.”
Shane’s jaw tightens again, and I hold back the desire to run my fingers over it. “Good. We haven’t heard from the police yet.”
“You will,” Damien says to him, then shifts his gaze to me. “There were prints on the scene. That’s to be expected. Your prints would be all over it, but I have a contact at the station who told me your mother’s prints are in the van too. She’s going to get called in for questioning. Maybe she’s already been called in. That means she’ll be running scared. She might ask the DA to cut her a deal if she turns in the people who pushed her to do it.” He lifts his eyebrows. “She might reach out to you.”
“She’ll regret it if she tries,” I snap. I can feel Shane and Danny both watching me.
“So you’re not inclined to give her a break?” Damien asks.
“No,” Danny, Shane, and I all say at the same time, as if we practiced it.
Danny looks at me; I look at Danny. “She doesn’t deserve any more chances,” my brother says, his voice firm. “She’s done enough.”
I take his hand and squeeze it. “I agree.” My voice doesn’t quaver either. Shane puts his hand on my thigh under the table—his way of telling me that he agrees with us and we’re making the right decision.
Damien leans back in his chair. “Mind, I wasn’t implying you should.”
Nicole waves a Twizzler she got from who-knows-where through the air like it’s a magic wand. “We wanted to know if we were dealing with stupid people. No one wants to waste their time on stupid.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s nervous and loud, and this is mine too—the ability to laugh when all life gives you is lemons, and you don’t have any sugar but the kind that comes from appreciating the absurdity. “That’s fair.”
Nicole nods in approval. “Family shit can be heavy. I only found out I have a half-sister when my old man kicked it and left us his house. It felt like I should have known about her, but Damien and I never tried to look for my dad. If we had, it would have been as easy as that—” She tries to snap, fumbles it, and scowls.
“There’s more than one of you?” Shane quips.
“I don’t think she’d appreciate the comparison,” Nicole says with a movie villain laugh.
“I don’t know,” Damien puts in, “she seems to be learning the way of things.”
I’m guessing she didn’t have much choice.
“Speaking of parents,” he adds. “What would you like to do about your ex’s?”
“Press charges,” I say, holding the side of the table.
If they cared about Izzy, they never would have sent someone—a criminal—to break into our apartment. The only thing they care about is her DNA. They don’t deserve her.
“Thank God,” Shane says, miming wiping sweat off his brow. Or maybe it’s real sweat; he seems genuinely relieved. “I was worried you wouldn’t want to get litigious.” Then he surprises me by adding, “I’ll ask Freeman to handle it. I’m too close to the situation.”
“So you trust the legal beagle?” I ask, the world narrowing to us. This feels like a change in him. A blossoming awareness that power isn’t the only thing that matters in a person. I’m hoping my special project will help with that.
“I do,” he says. His gaze holds mine, something like an entreaty in them. “It wasn’t ever about a lack of trust, Ruthie.”
No, it was more a lack of respect, and it would seem he’s gained some. For the legal beagle and for me.
“Say,” Nicole says, pausing in her attack on the Twizzler. “I hear you’re representing our associate Josie in her court case.”
Shane heaves a weary sigh. “No comment.”
