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“It’s going to be okay, whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”
I lay silent, my head resting in Lizzie’s lap while she ran her fingers through my hair to comfort me.
“Everything is so fucked up.” I repeated the words over and over again. I could tell Lizzie was puzzled but she didn’t want to push me either. She kept my head on her lap and tried her best to console me. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “I promise. Whatever it is, I am here for you.”
“I don’t know what I am going to do, Liz.”
“Start from the beginning,” Lizzie was getting impatient. She was ready to hear the problem so she could start helping me fix it.
“I am being investigated for the murder of Victoria Brooks, and I am pregnant with Chris Brooks’ baby.”
CHAPTER 15
CHRISTOPHER
You are not the father.
How had I ended up in an episode ofJerry Springer? My mind was preoccupied with the letter from the genetics lab. Victoria and I had been married for two years before she got pregnant with Natasha, and that meant one thing. She’d been cheating on me. I now resented her. Not only was I being accused of killing her, she also ripped Natasha away from me. My mother was probably rolling over in her grave. Even in death, Victoria was a bad choice. I didn’t love Natasha any less, the only problem was the fact that this could strengthen the police’s case against me. If Detective Parker got his hands on this, he would use it to bury me under the prison.
I was headed to Grapevine to pick up Sam. I owed her the truth. She was now wrapped up in some serious shit, no fault of her own. I had to protect her at all costs but I also had to be honest with her. My mind darted back and forth between the genetics lab results and Sam’s face when I dropped her off yesterday. Just another person to add to the list of mydamagedlife. I couldn’t help but feel inadequate, I had disappointed everyone closest to me. As I merged onto I-35E North my phone started ringing. It was Peter.
“What’re your plans today?” he asked.
I had a lot of plans, but I was cautious over the phone; you could never be too careful. My conversation with Peter was privileged but I had very little trust in the legal system. “I’m headed into the city now. I swung by the ranch for some documents after taking Natasha to school. I plan on staying at the loft until things calm down. Did you need me for anything?”
“Can you swing by the office today?”
“Sure thing, I will call when I am on my way.” Peter hung up and I was back to my thoughts.
My plan is to park my Tesla at the loft, I hired a car service so the press couldn’t follow me. I went into the loft one way and came right back out through the back alley. I kept looking behind me to make sure I wasn’t followed. The driver picked me up 2 blocks from the loft and we headed to Grapevine to pick up Sam.
I started getting nervous the closer I got to Sam’s apartment. I wasn’t sure how she would be feeling today. I was still struggling with my part in her breakdown yesterday. I was hoping she felt better or at least pretended to. I spotted her before I pulled up. She was wearing a blue Texans t-shirt and shorts that hugged her hips. I grew aroused. I had never seen her dressed casually before, but I liked it. I opened the door and she slid into the back seat with me.
“Good morning, Chris.”
She sounded better, but I braced myself for the worst. “How are you feeling today?”
“A lot better than I did yesterday. I spoke with Mr. George this morning. He spoke with the detectives and there are no charges filed against me.”
“Their case had no merit against you,” I said. “They were clutching at straws.” I could tell she was feeling better. She was smiling and she had a glow that made her more radiant than I could remember. “Well, where do you want to go for lunch?” I asked. “My treat. It’s the least I can do after what I put you through yesterday.”
She paused before responding. “Do you mind if we got out of the city? I need a break from the media frenzy”
I was a bit relieved. After the raid yesterday, the society pages and news channel were buzzing with gossip and rumors centered around the arrest. I wanted to lay low as well. “I know just the place.”
We drove in silence. I owned a small vineyard in the Design District north of the city. I was overdue for a visit and thought this would be the perfect place for us to sit and have lunch away from the media frenzy. It was only a twenty-minute drive from Sam’s apartment. Pulling into the long driveway reminded me of the times I visited with my dad. This was his love project; he bought the property fifteen years ago from the previous owner who sold it for pennies on the dollar to cover legal expenses. My dad was not happy about the acquisition but I remember reveling in the poor schmuck’s misfortune. I was young and naive when my dad said time was a cruel mistress. I didn't understand at the time, but now I do. Coming back to the vineyard seemed climactic with the weight of my own legal problems. I wondered what happened to the previous owner. I have to google him when I get home; he may have some wisdom to impart.
I pulled up to the entrance of the vineyard. I’d called ahead to let Roy Barnes the vintner know I would be visiting. He met us at the gate and started his tour of the compound.
The vineyard sat on ten acres of land and was a fully functioning vineyard and winery. The vineyard employed over 50 field associates who took excellent care of all the vines on the property. Roy explained the science behind the soil, underlying rocks, altitude, slope of terrain, sun and temperature all made up the terroir that gave the wine its unique flavor.
Sam dressed adequately for the tour and seemed intrigued by everything that was said. We walked for about an hour before heading into the winery. There were small private booths used to facilitate meetings for clients who wanted to do business with us. Roy, the vintner, had one reserved for me and Sam. Sam slid into the booth first and I slid in right beside her. I was intoxicated by her smell and longed to brush my arm or leg against her. This was my opportunity. I ordered a glass of red wine and Sam ordered water. I pushed the thoughts of intimacy to the back of my mind. It was time to start telling her the truth.
I began with my memory loss. “The night Victoria died; I woke up in the art room with a terrible hangover. I remember having a headache and a gash on the back of my head. I don’t remember how it happened but I just thought I stumbled and hit my head somewhere. When I got to the hospital and found out Victoria was gone, I forgot about investigating my head wound.”
Sam turned her head and looked at me. “So, I am guessing that’s where the blood came from in the art room?”
I paused for a second, “I think so but without getting the blood analyzed, I can’t be certain. I also have been suffering from memory loss since the accident. I have been having flashbacks of being on the scene but none of what I remember makes sense. While I was in the holding cell, I remembered seeing someone else at the scene. The person was pulling Victoria out of the car. I am sure it was her because I saw the rose tattoo on her hand.”
