“Vinny Ray was paroled.”
She swallowed a stream of screams as her heart rate shot into the triple digits. “What? I thought he was still in prison.”
“I’m sorry. Someone provided you with incorrect information.”
She felt like she was going to pass out. “So, Ray was released four years early? When did this happen?”
“Last month.”
Rubbing her forehead, she started pacing. “How?”
“State funding crisis paired with an overcrowded prison. Ray was a model prisoner and earned early release. Keep in mind he was foundnotguilty for the vehicular manslaughter charges.”
“C’mon, Jim. You and I both know he got off because the police mishandled the case.”
“But hewasconvicted after the anonymous caller tipped police to the bags of cocaine in his apartment.”
Not so anonymous if you knew what he did to my home.“He’s a career criminal, not to mention a murderer. I cannot believe he’s free.”
“His parole officer confirmed Ray checks in regularly and has already secured a part-time job. He’s in Pennsylvania and if I recall, you’re from Ohio. He won’t risk his freedom by breaking parole.”
He already did.She thanked Jim for the call, and with shaky fingers hung up. Her worst fear had been confirmed. Vinny Ray was free and looking to make good on his threat. He’d broken parole once. What would stop him from doing it again?
That evening,Brigit drankmore than she ate.
“You okay?” Taylor asked.
“Nevvr beddrrr.” She shoved a forkful of roasted golden potatoes into her mouth.
Taylor set down her fork. “Ryan is coming home with me for Thanksgiving. My parents are local, but we’re staying the night. If you don’t already have plans, please join us.”
“You-n-Ryan.” Brigit smiled. The grin felt lopsided, like she’d gotten a shot of Novocain. “How sweet. You twos ennyjoy tha hollyday.”
After dinner, Brigit staggered downstairs to the home theater room. She selected her favorite Hitchcock movie, “Dial M for Murder,” flopped onto the recliner and snuggled beneath the throw. As the movie started, she laid her head on the arm of the cushioned chair.
Brigit silencedher annoyingphone alarm and winced from the pounding in her head. Vanessa hovered over her. Recoiling in the chair, Brigit gasped. “What the—what are you doing?”
“Going to work out,” Vanessa said. “The lights were on. It’s almost seven.”
Brigit cradled her throbbing head.
“Have a good day.” Vanessa took off for the gym.
In search of aspirin, Brigit trudged upstairs before getting ready for work.Maybe it’s time to ease up on the wine.
During the morning teleconference with the Francesco team, Marjorie asked both teams to email her their vote, which she’d tally and provide to Colton. Brigit typed two words in the body of the email to Mrs. Mic:White Knight.
Defeat was a bitter pill to swallow the second time around, too. That afternoon, her phone buzzed with a text from Colton.No more alcohol. You shouldn’t be drinking at all.
“What the hell?” she said out loud to herself. “You don’t get to boss me around.” She didn’t reply.
On Thanksgiving eve, an eerie silence replaced the normally bustling home. Everyone but Chad and Vanessa had already left for the holiday. For the first time since Brigit had moved in, she’d dressed in sweats. Since the Clothing Czar wasn’t there to bark orders, she took advantage of the nonexistent dress code. She joined them for a quiet dinner in the kitchen. While neither were dressed as casually as she, Vanessa’s conservative black pants and black turtleneck sweater were the most appropriate attire she’d worn since Brigit had started working there.
“What are your holiday plans, Brigit?” Chad asked.
“I have none,” Brigit said. “How about you?”
“Family reunion at my aunt’s lake house in Virginia. I’m outta here in ten. It’s a two-hour drive and I-95 will be a parking lot. How ‘bout you, Vanessa?” Chad asked.
