“Regan isn’t scorned—”
“She is listed as the spouse of the deceased. Even if Danielle’s claims of an affair with Luca are false, the jury will still see Regan as a scorned woman, meaning Danielle’s claim of being harassed by Regan after Luca’s death is plausible.”
My deep exhalation nearly drowns out what Dane says next: “You know the odds in these cases, Alex. For every juror we dismiss for their disdain of cheating, we have another who’s a glorified adulterer. I hate to tell you, man, but the odds are against you on this one. Danielle is claiming self-defense.”
Anger hits me like a hard blow to my chest. “How can she claim self-defense whenshewas the one who arrived at church clutching a pig’s heart?”
“The same way you should have refuted Theresa’s claims of being insubordinate—severe emotional distress.”
Apffttnoise vibrates my lips. “Severe emotional distress, my ass. Nothing I did this weekend was done under protest.”
“I know.” Dane’s tone isn’t as high as mine, his voice not as stern. “But Theresa doesn’t. She placed you in a predicament you weren’t trained for, therefore you didn’t know how to act. A simple mistake—any good union rep will argue the same on your behalf.”
That’s easy for him to say. He doesn’t know what Theresa is holding over my head. It isn’t just my job on the chopping block if I go against her. Dane’s livelihood is also at stake.
Believing my silence is due to contemplating his suggestion, Dane says, “You called for my advice, so here it is: go the deflective ruse. It’s an easy excuse. I glanced at the surveillance images logged this weekend. If I were there, I would havesoothedRegan in the same manner you did.”
The last half of his sentence comes out in a flurry from Kristin’s fist stealing the air from his lungs. It is lucky she’s quick to retaliate, as my response wouldn’t have been anywhere near as subdued.
A door being slammed shut rumbles down the line before Dane quickly pushes out, “Stop being so hard on yourself. Do you truly believe you’re the first agent to dive beneath the sheets with a target? It is a part of our industry.”
His reply stumps me—wholly and without constraint. I know him well enough to know his comment wasn’t metaphorical. He’s talking from experience.
“What the fuck, man? Does Kristin know?”
I try to hold in my anger, but, in all honesty, I can’t. Kristin is so much like a sister to me, anger minces my words, making me sound the most volatile and unhinged I’ve ever been.
“Don’t be an idiot.” Dane laughs as if we’re at a comedy club. I don’t know what the fuck he thinks is funny. This shit isn’t funny.
When I say that to him, he replies, “You need to remember who you’re preaching your godliness to. I heard the rumors. I know how you climbed the rankings so fast.”
Fury builds in my gut. “What the fuck are you talking about? I got where I am on my own merit. No one gave me shit.”
His mocking laugh adds to the wobble of my top lip. “Uh-huh, you keep telling yourself that, bro.”
When he disconnects our call, I clutch my cell as if it is his neck. This isn’t the first argument we’ve had, but it’s the first time I’ve regretted carting him down the meadow on my back. That man I was arguing with is not my brother. The Dane I know idolizes his wife. His girls are the apples of his eye. He’d rather die than hurt them. He doesn’t cheat and lie. He loves. I can’t put it any simpler than that.
I sit in silence for several minutes, torn on where I go from here. I called Dane because I needed advice on what to do with Regan. Our conversation started in the right direction until Dane gave me an update on Danielle’s charges. There is solid evidence that Danielle has been in Ravenshoe the past two months. She admitted to the arresting officer that she has a “strong dislike” of Regan, but the DA is still going in soft.
At this rate, she’ll barely get a slap on the wrist, let alone the sentence she deserves. It is like five years ago all over again. They’re handed the perp wrapped up in a shiny red bow, but instead of believing the evidence presented to them by a dedicated and well-respected member of law enforcement, they side with the criminal.
I guess that excuses my heated conversation with Dane. We’re both on edge. Dane has a bout of extensive physical therapy coming up—it’s costly and excruciatingly painful—and I’m still twisted up in knots over my somewhat arrangement with Theresa.
I don’t trust her. She’d throw a baby under the bus if it guaranteed she’d get her man. That’s not someone I want to side with. What I said to Dane was straight up honesty. Everything I’ve accomplished in my career I achieved myself. No one gave me a lending hand or a sneaky payment under the table.
My dedication to my job is why I’m at the office at god knows o’clock on my day off, seeking evidence in Isaac’s case. I know what I’m searching for is here; I just have to find it.
And I’ll do it without prying into Regan’s private life.
* * *
A few hours later, I throw an evidence folder onto my desk in frustration before raking my fingers through my hair. I’m fucking exhausted. With my run-in with Theresa playing on my mind all morning, I didn’t get a wink of sleep before starting an impromptu sixteen-hour shift at the office.
I’m also dying to call Regan, but since I’m striving to keep the lies to a bare minimum, I don’t know what I could say. Even asking her something as simple as how her day was could substantiate corruption when I eventually come clean. Her day-to-day life intertwines with Isaac’s, so until that is unraveled, a humble conversation is out of the question.
I’ve never felt so fucking torn in my life, and Dane’s confession isn’t helping matters. He cheated on his wife. Like. . . fuck. If he can do that, what else is he capable of?
Now I understand what Regan meant about not lying to the people you love. I’m hurt by Dane’s betrayal, and I’m not the one he deceived. And although my deception isn’t as deep as Dane’s, at the end of the day, I’m still lying to Regan.
