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I don’t answer. I hit three buttons on my phone.
“Who are you calling?”
She’ll find out soon enough.
“Nick, who are you calling?” she repeats.
I hop off the foot of the bed and walk out my bedroom, putting some badly needed distance between us.
She follows me, but I think I’m far enough away.
She can’t hear who’s on the other line, and soon, it won’t matter.
25
Closing Statements (Reese)
I get out of the car and walk back into Sutton’s office, following my instincts.
I walk up to the receptionist’s desk. “Do you think I could talk to Mr. Sutton again? I promise to be quick.”
She drags her mouse and looks at her computer. “Maybe. I don’t think his next meeting started yet.” She goes to his office and knocks on the door, ducking inside for a moment before she returns. “He’ll see you.”
“Thanks.” I give her as much of a smile as I can manage, but I’m out of smiles today.
Sutton looks up at me from his chair.
“Is Mr. Brandt okay?” He pauses.
Ha. I wish I knew.
“He’s fine.” I think. I hope. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“When someone talks to their attorney, no one else is around, right?”
“Correct. No one else knows what my client says to me. It’s not their business,” he tells me.
“But when I see Abby, we’re in a room full of people?”
He nods. “That’s normal security protocol. Folks in jail aren’t allowed total privacy with friends and family.”
“It’s just—I think if there were less people around, I could get her to talk.”
“I can go with you. I can’t promise they’ll let us in together. Sometimes they will, and sometimes they won’t. But we can try.”
“I feel bad asking this next question, but...is there any chance we could go today? Like now. Nick’s freaking out about something, and he really wants my sister to talk.”
Sutton smiles. “We all want that. If you think today’s the day, let me get my coat.”
I decide to leave the Maserati parked where it’s more secure.
He calls a cab and has us delivered to the jail in no time. We’re escorted to a private room without any holdups, thankfully. The desk and chairs are metal and bolted to the ground.
“That was easy,” I say.
“Well, this next part is yours. I hope you have more luck with her than I did,” Sutton tells me.
Me too. Millie still has nightmares a few times a week.
Nick is imploding.
Between worrying about the three of them—Abby included—I’m barely holding it together.
Abby comes in a minute or two later with cuffs around her arms and legs.
I swallow harshly. It’s hard to see your own sister chained up like a dog.
She sits down across from us with one question that’s become almost predictable. “Where’s Millie?”
“With Miss Tiffany for now,” I say.
“The nanny?”
I nod.
“I wish you’d brought her.” Abby looks through me. It’s obvious every day locked up wears her down a little more, sucking her life away.
I bite my lip. “Abby, you can see Millie again. You can go back to being her mother...if you think it’s time to tell us what happened. We both know that’s easier if she isn’t here.”
Abby jerks her head away for a minute before turning back to meet my eyes. She squeezes her eyes tight and a tear streams down her cheek. Holding her cuffed hands up, she brings them as close to her face as she can and leans forward to wipe a stray tear.
It’s my turn to look away.
God, this is brutal.
I find her gaze. “What happened? We’ll keep you safe, sis, I promise.”
For a long moment, she hesitates.
Just when I’m losing hope, she looks up, a new energy in her eyes.
“Okay. My biggest mistake was trusting Will when he barged back into our lives. He swore he’d changed though, and...and he is Millie’s dad. He said he wanted us to be a family again. For some stupid reason, I believed him.” She pauses, her voice hitched. “But then he started leaving big boxes around the apartment. He’d drop them for a day or two before they disappeared. They were work stuff—tools, he’d tell me, whenever I asked. We argued about it when I worried it was something Millie could get into.”
Again, she draws a shaky breath, lowering her eyes before she looks at us again.
“He...he finally told me it was weed, and this was his last run. He said he wanted just enough to build up some savings and leave us comfortable until he found a better job. Of course, I said hell no and told him to get the shit out of my house. I’ve been clean for too long. I wasn’t risking going backward, not to mention involving the cops or CPS. I wouldn’t give them any excuse to put Millie in the system—” Her voice rises.
“Shh. I know. It’s okay,” I offer gently.
