* * *
Rebecca put her sticker name tag on her jacket and read the numbers above each door. The hallway was unnaturally quiet for a building filled with children, but she could see kids doing different activities through the narrow rectangular window on each closed door—an art class, some kind of martial arts, a computer room. The building was showing its age with its battered bulletin boards and scuffed-up floors, but there were colorful posters lining the walls and student artwork on display. The place was trying to be cheerful even though there was a police officer parked out front and metal detectors at the doors.
She knew most schools, not just these types of after-school programs, had higher security these days. Long Acre had helped launch that new era. Those measures saved lives. But part of her hated that these kids would never get to experience the blissful ignorance she’d had her first few years at Long Acre when the biggest threat at school was dealing with someone you didn’t like or getting a mean teacher or having your heart broken by first love. The ugliness of the world encroached far too early now.
She rubbed the chill bumps from her arms and caught sight of the number she was looking for. She took a steadying breath and headed that way. She’d been more than a little shocked when she’d gotten a call from Wes late Monday afternoon. He’d been on her mind since leaving Marco’s on Sunday. She hadn’t been able to shake the things he’d told her or the thoughts he’d put in her head. She’d spent that night going through the file for his divorce, studiously ignoring copies of the illicit photos and reviewing how the case had shaken out.
Reading through the notes had brought a lot of it back. His ex, Brittany, had gotten a monster settlement. Wes had been a few months away from opening a farm-to-table restaurant in a hip area not far from Rebecca’s house. There’d been write-ups about it, lots of buzz, slick photos of Wes looking edgy and gorgeous in his chef’s coat. He’d been considered the hot new chef on the scene. But he’d built up too much debt getting the place ready and had apparently been counting on the grand opening to pay it back. Losing so much in the divorce had probably meant bankruptcy for him. Rebecca had looked it up, and the original property had been bought by another chef and was now a high-end barbecue joint.
While Wes worked here, teaching in an after-school program for at-risk youth, which probably paid less than a line cook’s salary at one of those places.
He hadn’t broken his marriage vows, but he’d lost everything anyway. Rebecca had helped crush his dream. Even though she knew she’d only been doing her job and working with the information she had from her client, the knowledge that she’d played any part in that had kept her tossing and turning the last two nights.
So when Wes had called her, she’d almost wondered if she was imagining it because she’d been considering calling him. She didn’t need more debts on her conscience. That bill was already long enough. But he’d told her he needed to talk to her about something, so she was going to take the opportunity to say what she needed to say as well.
Before knocking, she caught sight of him through the window in the door. He was in a black chef’s jacket, pen clenched between his teeth, and his attention was focused on a notepad in front of him. She let herself take a moment to stare. He really was unfairly good-looking. She usually veered away from that type. Sure, men like that were nice to look at, a glossy page in a magazine. But she’d learned that being too handsome often meant an entitled personality to match. She didn’t get that vibe from Wes.
The man from the photos was still in there. If he looked up and smiled like the world was his, it’d be those newspaper photos in the flesh. But the world wasn’t his anymore. That world had beaten him down, and she’d been in the attacking crowd. With a sigh, she raised her fist and knocked.
He glanced up, his gaze colliding with hers. Her heartbeat picked up speed, as if her body couldn’t decide if there was danger present or if this was something to get excited about. The moment hovered between them for a long second. Friend or foe? She had no idea what awaited. All she knew was that it was suddenly warmer in the hallway.
Instead of calling for her to come in, Wes got up and walked to the door. When he swung it open, his somber expression looked anything but welcoming, answering her question. “Thanks for coming.”
She hiked her purse up higher on her shoulder. “Yeah, sure. Sorry I couldn’t get here until today. I’ve been in and ou
t of court since Monday.”
“I understand. I know you’re busy. Come on in.” He stepped back and let her inside. The office was small with cream-colored cinder-block walls and a window that looked out onto a scrubby patch of grass and a graffitied wall of another building. He had a bookshelf in one corner that was stuffed with cookbooks, old and new. And on the wall next to his desk were a certificate from a culinary academy and a photograph of him, Marco, and two older people she assumed were their parents.
She took the seat across from the desk and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m glad you called, actually. I’d planned to get your number from Marco so I could call you.”
“Call me?” Wes lifted his brows as he settled behind the desk. “About what?”
“About what happened Sunday,” she said, not wanting to dance around what needed to be addressed. “I’m sorry about the things I said to you. Regardless of what I knew about you from the case, you’d been nothing but kind to me up until that point. You helped me. You made a horrible night not so horrible. I had no right to judge you or make assumptions.” She concentrated on plucking a piece of lint off her pants. “I have…strong feelings about cheaters, and I’m not so good at hiding that.”
“You’ve been on the other end of it?”
She smirked despite herself. She’d never had anything serious enough with a guy for that to matter. Friends with benefits arrangements didn’t come with commitment clauses, just a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. “No. But my mom left my dad—and me—for someone else, for another family, when I was a kid and never looked back. And in my job, I get to see people tear apart their marriages all the time for a quick thrill.” She looked up and met his gaze. “The whole idea of infidelity makes me seethe. I don’t understand why people who want to keep their options open don’t just stay single. Why destroy other people and families in the process? But it wasn’t fair to make it personal, especially without hearing your side.”
“Rebecca—”
“And for what it’s worth, I won’t apologize for doing my job, but I am sorry that I helped your ex get something she didn’t deserve. If I’d known the whole story, I wouldn’t have taken her money. Or helped her take yours.”
Something softened in his expression and he nodded. “Thank you. I owe you an apology, too. I wasn’t fair to you. My disaster of a marriage was on me and my ex—as is the aftermath. I think seeing you and realizing who you were just brought all that crap rushing back. I was an asshole about it. So I’m sorry.”
She absorbed his words and nodded. “Thanks.”
“But that’s not why I called you.”
She frowned. “No?”
“I wish it were.” He leaned back in his chair and let out a breath. “One of my students came in Monday morning with an injury. A dog bite.”
The words were like cold water in her face. “What?”
Wes rubbed his brow, his face weary. “I don’t know if it’s related, but from what I remember of your attacker, it could’ve been him. And this kid…he’s a smart kid. Talented in the kitchen. But he’s gotten into trouble before, and I get the impression his home life is not great. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that he could be involved.”
She sat back, her fingers curling around the arms of the chair. “Jesus.”