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“Then you’re as sick as he is.” He started toward the door.
“You don’t understand,” she cried, getting up and hurrying behind him. “He’s not what you think. He’s being framed. And the only thing they have on him now is your testimony.”
“Is that what he told you?” He speared her with his eyes. “He’s a liar, Ang. I’m not the only cop who saw those photos. And even if I was and I agreed to change my testimony... that is what you’re asking for here, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t hold his eyes, so she lowered hers and nodded.
“Even if I did, there would still be the small matter of those photos locked up safe and sound in the evidence room. Your slimy boyfriend’s going down, Ang.”
She blinked slowly. “I don’t understand. Vinnie said—”
“Just understand this—I wouldn’t change my testimony if your damn life depended on it. You got that? Because these are kids.Kids,Ang. Kids come way higher on my list of priorities than my drug-addicted ex-wife’s love life. Deal with it.”
“Damn you, why can’t you just listen?”
He went to the door, opened it wide. The bells on the wreath jingled like mad. “Get the hell out.”
“I have a chance to be happy, Jim. Don’t take it away from me.”
“Yeah, it’s all about you,” he said, holding the door. “I’m testifying against this pervert because I can’t stand the thought of you being happy with someone else. You keep believing that.”
She leaned toward him, pressed her hands to the front of his shirt. “Don’t you care about me anymore? Even a little bit?”
He closed his hands around her wrists to remove them from his chest. “Care about you? You got high and took my baby son down two flights of stairs, Angela. Twenty-four stairs pounded his tiny body. Twenty-four. You broke his little legs in seven places, twisted up his spine, split his head open, and he’s still suffering from it. Every time I take Tyler in for physical therapy and listen to him cry in pain and beg me not to make him go through it, I hate you more. That’s what I feel for you. Now get out. And if you come within a mile of my son again, I’ll find a way to put you behind bars.”
She’d backed away from him as he’d pummeled her with his words. When he finished, she lowered her head and moved slowly through the door. “You never loved me. Not really. Not the way he does.”
“You think so? Tell me something, Ang, when did you meet this slimeball?”
She stopped in the doorway, head hanging low. “A few months ago.”
“Before or after I arrested him?”
“A-after. But it’s not—”
“And where did you meet him? Did he drive his Porsche to one of the gutters where you sleep, one of the dives where you drink? Did he walk up to you in his designer suit and ask for a date?”
She shook her head. “It’s none of your business.”
“Was he a John, Ang?”
She shot him a wide eyed look.
“I’m a cop, you think I don’t know? So he picked you up. You, out of every working girl out there. The ex-wife of the cop who busted him. You think that’s some kind of coincidence?”
She blinked fast, tears springing into her eyes. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know he’s using you to get to me. And it’s not gonna work. You wanna get clean, you do it yourself. Get into rehab. Stand on your own two feet and take control of your life for a change. But don’t see this guy as some fairytale prince to your Cinderella. He’s trouble, Ang.”
Her tears were flowing now. “You’re wrong!” she shouted. “You’re wrong and I hate you. Ihateyou!”
She surged through the door, ran down the hall to the big double exit doors, getting to them just as they opened and his partner stepped through in a whoosh of snow and wintry wind.
Colby Benton sent a puzzled look at the woman as he stomped his feet and brushed at his sleeves. She pushed past him, out into the snowy Chicago night. The doors swung closed behind her and Colby gave his balding red head a shake, brows raised as he met Jim’s eyes.
“Tell me that wasn’t a date with one of your mommy candidates,” he said. “And if it was, I hope it was ablinddate.”
“Didn’t you recognize her, Colby? That was Ang.”
