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Peter frowned.
“I can’t remember anything,” I said. “I woke up in the art room when the cops called but everything before that is a blank.” I could tell he was skeptical of my response but I would be too if I were in his shoes. “So, what evidence do they have?”
Peter looked down at the folder and started flipping through the pages, I noticed he had photocopies of what seemed to be actual detective notes. How he got them was a mystery to me, but that was why he was my lawyer. “It says here they have tire tracks that don’t match Victoria’s car or the passerby that called 911. A cufflink with your initials and the smoking gun is blood they found near the bushes away from the field of the accident that has yet to be identified.”
That’s when another memory came flooding back to me, overpowering my thoughts and forcing me to block everything else out so I could process it. I remember waking up in Victoria’s art room with a small gash on the back of my head. When I answered the phone, I remembered thinking that I needed to get my head looked at but once I got to the hospital that got pushed back to make room for more pressing issues.
“Chris, Chris, Chris, you okay?”
I refocused my thoughts. “Sorry, something important just came back to me but I still don’t know how it fits into anything at this point. I am fucked, I need to remember what happened that night.” I recounted what I remembered to Chris; I hoped hearing the words out loud would help me recall important details.
Peter soon added to my frustration, “Well, there should be a search warrant soon, for your car tires and the other cufflink. Do you, have it?”
At that point, I decided to keep the mystery of the missing cufflink to myself. “I haven’t seen that thing in about two years. I have no idea how it got to the crash site. Hell, it could have fallen out of Victoria’s car.”
Peter gave me a disapproving look. “Make sure if they search the house, they don’t find it. That would be hard to explain away.”
“What about the blood? Will they want to take a sample from me?” I was now curious.
“No judge would grant that with this little evidence. Nothing to worry about just yet with that but the cops seem to have a hard-on for you.”
“Shit, they can get in line.” I was annoyed and angry all at the same time. “Is there anything else? I have to pick Natasha up from ballet practice.”
“No, that’s all for now. I will keep you posted if something else comes up.”
“Thanks, brother.”
Peter stood up to walk me out but I declined his hospitality. “I’m good, just need some time to process all this.”
Peter sat back down. “I understand.”
I exited the office building and headed briskly to my car. I was ready to be alone. The drive back to Highland Park was a blur, and I was now rummaging through my brain for my lost memory. I was deep in thought when another piece came flooding back.
I remembered arguing with Victoria over the phone, but I could not make out what I was saying. I just remembered sitting in the art room with a piece of paper in my hand. Victoria was crying and I was shouting. I was also drinking. In the middle of the conversation, I dropped the paper, grabbed my car keys, and headed to the Tesla. Victoria was still on the line.
My memory stopped there and I was now starting to believe that I was involved in the death of my wife.What was I reading and where did it go? This shit is getting too close for comfort.
CHAPTER 8
SAMANTHA
Iwalked out of Chris’s office feeling more in control of my feelings and the situation. Thank God Brandon knocked on the door. Otherwise, I would have been on my back, on the couch, begging him to fill me with every inch of his…Get your head together, Sam.This is not the time to lose your cool. The subcontractors must have sensed I was thinking about something else because they kept glancing at my now-flushed face. I needed somewhere private to think, but I also needed to get colors finalized for the art room and make sure all the new appliances were properly installed. It was now five weeks into the eight-week project and I had to quickly get the kitchen wrapped up.
My next task was to get the master bedroom closet organized with just Chris’s clothes, change the curtains, get the accent wall completed, and finish the carpet replacement and paint. That was all scheduled for next week, but there was still a lot to get done in the master bedroom before we could start. As I made notes on my project timeline, my mind wandered back to my missed birth control pills and whether I may have complicated my life by not stopping things with Chris before it went as far as it did. How would I explain this baby to my mom or Lizzie? I can just imagine their disappointment. I was still waiting for my period so it wasn’t time to start panicking.
Well, what is done is done. I would find it hard to explain initially but my baby would be loved. I contemplated whether I should tell Chris about not being on my birth control pill, but after what he told me today, the last thing he needed was news of a potential pregnancy. It would come off as desperate and convenient. Poor girl meets a rich guy and all of a sudden, she is pregnant. I did not want Chris to think I was after his fortune.
I must have been deep in thought because I didn’t realize Brandon had walked up and was now looking over my shoulder. Thank God I had my timeline sheet pulled up and seemed engaged with the next phase of the plans.
“Hi, Ms. Walker, how is it going?”
“Hi, Brandon. It’s going well. Just getting ready for the master bedroom. Chris gave me the color palette to work from so I can now move headfirst into that next week.”
He gave me a questioning look. I am guessing it’s because I said Chris and not Mr. Brooks. Shit, did he know? I quickly started elaborating on deliveries, timelines, and more technical aspects just so I could move past any questions he may ask that I was not ready to answer.
“So, what were you discussing with Mr. Brooks this morning?”
I was caught off guard by this question. “We finalized color choices for the master bedroom, why?” Brandon’s question was off and now it was his turn to seem ready to move along. “Nothing in particular, I am just glad he made a decision.” I wasn’t sure what that was about but, with my secret escapade in the closet, who was I to start throwing stones? Brandon soon seemed disinterested in anymore small talk and excused himself. I was glad to get back to my own thoughts.
