I pored over it for two hours. I’ve taken copious notes, but I don’t feel like I’ve gotten anywhere. I keep circling back to the old man who lived next door and to Marion’s thoughts on Jolene. Those two pieces of the puzzle seem to be the key to delving further into this.
I need to talk with them.
Oh, God.
I need to meet Luke’s wife.
My phone rings.
Luke.
“Hey, sexy man. How’s your night?”
“It’s busy as hell here. I doubt I’ll get out of here early tonight.”
“So no sexy times tonight? Geez, dude, you’re letting the team down. Two nights in a row.”
“Go to bed now. You’re going to need some energy when I get home.” Bossy Luke.
I squeeze my legs together. “A girl can dream.”
“And Callie?”
“Yes?”
“Be ready for a long night.”
“You kill me, Mr Hardy.”
“I’m just repaying the favour, baby.”
My conscience wars with itself after our call, Jolene’s file still glaring at me from the couch.
She’s guilty. Walk away now.
You just want her to be guilty so she can’t rock your happy little boat.
She can’t rock my happy boat. Luke doesn’t love her anymore.
But he wants a family for his son.
He can have me. I have mummy skills.
Yeah, but he’s always wanted the mother and father together with the child. He wants what he never had.
I hate you. Why the fuck did you have to bring that up?
Luke slides into bed around four-thirty the next morning. I’ve had the worst night’s sleep and have tossed and turned for hours, so I’m half awake when he gets home. His arm snakes over my waist and pulls me tightly against him while his leg rests over mine. I wait for him to make his move, but he doesn’t.
“Long night?” I ask.
“Yeah, a long fucked-up night. Nothing but problems.” His exhaustion weaves itself through his words.
I turn to face him and press a kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry you had such a shitty night.”
“I’m sorry I’m so late.” His eyes find mine in the dark.
“Go to sleep, baby,” I whisper.