Divorced, Desperate and Dead (Divorced and Desperate Book 5) (36 page)

“No. She wasn’t there.” Pause. “Is something wrong between you two?”

“No.” He ran a hand though his soapy hair. “Can we talk later? It’s been a long day.”

She paused. “Are you sure . . . ?”

“Kelly I’m fine. I promise. I need to go.”

“No. I won’t talk about . . . that.” There was a long pause. “Pooch isn’t eating again. And he snapped at Bella.”

“Kelly, I’ll write you a check for the damn dog the next time I see you.”

“I’m not asking for a check, Peewee.”

The use of his nickname hurt his ears.

“Love you. But I gotta go.” He hung up.

He went back to the kitchen and grabbed another beer. An hour later, sitting naked in his leather chair, shampoo still in his hair, bruise on his ass and his ribs, he’d finished two more beers. One for each unreturned message he’d left for Chloe.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Three days later, on Thursday morning, Cary stood outside Darrel Brooks’ office, waiting for Turner and Danny to show. Power in numbers, he hoped. Danny and Turner had agreed to meet him there to try to make their case to the DA for J.D. Andrews.

Cary had been trying to get in to see Mr. Brooks since Monday, but the man’s daughter in New York had given birth to his first grandbaby and he and his wife had gone up for a few days.

“Hey,” Turner said, walking in.

“Where’s Danny?” Cary asked, looking at his phone to check the time.

“He called and said he was running a few minutes late.”

“Late? What the hell?” Cary growled.

“He’ll be here.” Turner said, and studied Cary. “Is everything okay?”

Damn, but he was tired of answering that question. “It’s great,” Cary lied.

“You look like shit and you’re grumpier than Reese’s grandmother. And believe me, it’s hard to be grumpier than her.”

“I said I was great!” Cary snapped.

Turner didn’t look convinced. “What happened to Chloe?”

“Nothing.” How did Turner know anything was wrong?

“Right. You two break up?”

“No, she’s in Florida. Her grandmother is having some health issues.” He dropped a hand in his pocket.

“You’re not back on the schedule for a few days, why don’t you fly down and check on her?”

“I don’t want to be stuck in a hospital.” He’d been telling himself that, hoping to lessen the sting of Chloe not wanting him to come. Of her not calling him back.

“She might really appreciate it.”

No, she wouldn’t.
“Stop, okay?” Cary seethed.

“Stop what?”

“Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Damn, you’re almost as bad as my sisters.”

“Fine. I’m done talking.” Turner held up his hands. But in true Turner fashion, he wasn’t done. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I think I know what you’re going through and I know it sucks.”

“You don’t know shit,” he growled.

“I know that Reese and I had a rocky beginning. She nearly didn’t give me a second chance. And I know that until I got things fixed with her, I was in a bad place. And a piss poor mood, as you and Danny should know because you two had to put up with me.”

“Yeah, but if I remember correctly, you admitted to screwing up with Reese.” All of a sudden, all the angst bottled up inside him started pouring out. “I haven’t done anything. At least, I don’t think I have. Then again, how the hell would I know? I’ve called her a dozen times and texted about fifty. She’s not answering.”

“You must have done something,” Turner said. “Don’t get me wrong, women can be unreasonable. Reese included. But, generally speaking, when she’s upset, I just go ahead and apologize. Because nine times out of ten, she’s right. And for some reason, I think Chloe is a lot like Reese.”

“That’s just it, I don’t think I did anything wrong. The only thing I can think of is that she made a statement about her being worried about me being a cop.”

Turner made a face. “Shit. You can’t do much about that.”

“Tell me about it.” Cary raked a hand over his face. “I’m a cop, I can’t be anything else.” He paused. “But you know, I could really just be blowing this whole thing out of proportion. She could just be devastated about her grandmother.”

“Could be,” Turner said, but Cary could tell his friend agreed just to make him feel better. “Just hang in there.” “When she comes back in town, take her flowers, sit her down, and have a long talk with her.”

“Yeah. I don’t even know when she’s going to be back.”

“Doesn’t she run that bakery?”

“Yeah, but she said she has an assistant and that friend of hers, Sheri something.”

“Maybe you should call Sheri. Ask her for the hospital name so you can send flowers.”

“Shit.” He hit his own head with his palm. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re not as smart as I am.” Turner chuckled and slapped him on the back. “It’ll work out.”

“Hey.” Danny walked into the office.

“About time,” Cary said, finding a target for his frustration.

“Did I miss the meeting?” Danny asked.

“No. We haven’t been called back yet.”

“Then why are you jumping on my ass about being a few minutes late?”

“Ten,” Cary said. “Not a few.”

Danny glanced at Turner. “When did he get promoted to the Time Police?”

“This is important,” Cary snapped.

“Yeah,” Danny added. “And I would’ve been here on time if I hadn’t had a damn flat tire. So get off my back.”

“Why didn’t you just say you had a flat?” Right then, Cary got a text and he moved a few feet away to read it.

His breath lodged in his chest when he hit the message button, hoping Chloe would tell him she was coming home and assure him things were good between them. Then he saw the name of the sender. Paula. She’d texted three times since Sunday. Three times more than Chloe, but he hadn’t even read them.

Seeing Paula was the last thing he wanted to do. He started to read her text, when . . . “Mr. Stevens?” The lady at the desk called out. “Mr. Brooks can see you now.”

• • •

“You do know this is ridiculous, don’t you?”

Chloe hurried up her apartment steps. “What’s ridiculous?”

“You can’t keep this up. Just tell him you’re back and you don’t want to see him.”

“I’m still a little messed up, okay? But this will help.” As soon as she put this behind her, she would call him.

“What will help? You still haven’t told me what we’re doing here.”

“I’m getting the dress and the two presents and donating them to Goodwill.”

Sheri’s eyes widened. “You paid over five thousand dollars for that dress.”

“I don’t care.” Chloe opened her door.

“Let me put it on eBay or Craig’s list.”

“No, I don’t want to have to explain why I didn’t use it.” Chloe went straight to her bedroom. The dress was on the bed where she’d left it. Looking in the mirror, she envisioned Cary standing behind her, telling her it had been the right dress, just the wrong guy.

Had he been trying to tell her he was the wrong guy, too? He sure as heck should have been.

“You don’t have to tell anyone what happened.” Sheri appeared in the doorway of her bedroom.

“They’ll ask. You know they will.”

“Fine. But I have to say, I love that dress on you.”

Chloe picked up the dress, slipped the hanger inside and pulled the plastic cover over it. She draped it over her bedroom chair.  “I love it, too. And someday, I’m gonna buy another one. I’ll find the right guy.”

“Of course you will.” Sheri plopped on the edge of the bed. “Do you think you’ll still be at my place this weekend?”

Instantly, Chloe felt terrible. Sheri invited her for one night. Had she overstayed her welcome?  “No . . . I’m sorry. I can come home now.”

“No, I don’t mean you’re in the way. I was . . . I called Kevin and asked him to come down. Told him we needed to talk.”

Chloe heard the pain in Sheri’s voice. “I’m sorry,” Chloe said.

“You should be,” her friend said. “It’s your fault.”

“What’s my fault?”

“Seeing you trying to dodge facing something made me realize I’m doing the same thing. It might even hurt more than I’ve been telling myself it will. I really loved him at one time. Oh, hell, maybe I still love him and I’m just telling myself I’ve stopped because I know he’s stopped loving me. I’m so confused.”

Chloe plopped down beside her and put her arm around her best friend. “I guess we’re both still mixed-up bitches.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

• • •

“He shot a cop.”  Mr. Brooks, the DA wasn’t known to give a lot of breaks, probably why he was called the Iron Fist behind his back.

“Yeah, and that would be me, sir.” Cary leaned forward in his chair. It squeaked, needing some WD40.

“Read the report,” Cary continued. “I’m telling you, this isn’t a bad kid. He’s had a rough life. His father died before he was born. His mom turned to drugs. His stepfather beat him. CPS finally found his paternal grandmother who hadn’t seen him since he was born, and put him with her. He did okay for a while, then she died. Then the system put him in foster care. And, by the way, the family who had him was accused of abusing their other kids and are no longer working for the program. Give this kid a chance.”

“A chance, as in a light sentence, yes. But parole? You’re telling me you want to let the kid who shot you just walk away?”

“Because of him, we have solved two murder cases,” Turner spoke up.

“One that he was involved with,” Mr. Brooks said and rested his hands on his rather large middle.

“Did you read his statement?” Danny asked. “The kid was forced to go along with the gang. The tape even shows him puking. He didn’t want to be there.”

Cary spotted the cigar with a light blue wrapper around the middle. “You had a grandson?” he asked.

“Yeah.” He touched the cigar and pride flashed in his faded gray eyes.

“What do you want to bet that your grandson is going to have a good life? Good parents. Grandparents. He’ll grow up and go to the finest schools. He’ll have it made. This kid, J.D., he didn’t have any of that. And yet he’s trying to do the right thing. Give him the break he deserves.”

Mr. Brooks dropped his head a bit and stared at his hands still propped up on his belly. He didn’t speak for a long beat.

“Fine,” he finally said, “but he finishes school. And gets involved in some volunteer program. You get him to agree to go back to the foster care program. Tell CPS they better set him up with someone who gives a damn this time. And if I hear he gets in any trouble, I’ll hold you,” he pointed at Cary, “responsible.”

Cary nodded, and rushed out to give J.D. the good news.

Chapter Forty

“You’re kidding me,” J.D. said, and then his light blue eyes grew a little wet. “Tell me you’re not joking.”

“I’m not joking,” Cary said. “Now, there are some conditions. We’re going to get you back into the foster program.”

He tensed. “I don’t want to go back to the same family. I hated it there and they pretty much hated me.”

“I know that. I promise I’ll personally make sure it’s a good fit.”

J.D. nodded, but still looked scared. “What other conditions?”

“You’ll go back to school, finish, and do some volunteer work.”

“I’m really not going to prison?”

“Really,” Cary said.

The boy looked toward the wall for a second. “Are you good to everyone who shoots you?”

There was a touch of humor in the kid’s voice and Cary smiled. “I don’t know. You’re the only one who’s shot me.” He hadn’t realized how much helping the kid meant to him until he saw the emotion in the boy’s eyes. Right then, he took that positive energy and told himself things with Chloe were going to work out. He’d fix this. She meant that much to him.

Feeling successful and hoping his next venture would prove equally fruitful, he gave the boy a pat on his shoulder and walked out to call Chloe and get to the bottom of their problems.

• • •

Chloe hadn’t purposely avoided his call. She’d left her phone in the car while she’d taken the items into the Goodwill Store. Now, hiding in her office at the bakery, she discovered she had another message from him.

Hey . . . Chloe, what the hell is going on? I don’t think I’m being paranoid anymore. You’re avoiding talking to me. And I thought . . . What is it? Are things bad with your grandmother. Or is it . . . You didn’t like shower sex? You’re scared I’m a cop? Damn it, let’s talk
.

Sheri walked into her office.

Chloe swallowed a large toad-size lump down her throat. “He knows.”

“Okay . . . I can surmise that ‘he’ is Johnny Depp. But the knowing part, I’m iffy. Does he know you aren’t in Florida?”

She hiccupped. “I don’t know if he knows that. He knows that I’m avoiding him.”

“I would hope so. If he didn’t, I would worry he’s dumber than a fence post in east Texas.”

“You know what this means? He hasn’t seen her or talked to her.” Chloe said.

“Her?”

“The pantiless woman.”

Sheri came over and sat on the edge of her desk. “And you’re happy about that?”

“No . . . Maybe. Why? Do you think it means something?”

Sheri just shook her head. “I think . .. I think . .  Look, he’s not giving up. Your heart’s not giving up. That has to mean something. Why don’t you go see him? Get everything out in the open. Maybe . . . he’s not the complete asshole you think he is.”

“I never called him an asshole. I called him a liar.”

“No. You called him a womanizing bastard with about as much merit as monkey shit.”

“That was after I drank an entire bottle of wine,” Chloe said. “That doesn’t count.”

“Okay, then call him.”

• • •

Cary walked into his condo, plopped down in front of his computer, and pulled up outgoing flights to Clearwater. Then he called Danny and left a message asking him to call right back.

He went ahead and made a reservation for tomorrow’s flight. His finger hovered over the pay button. Was this stupid? Buying the ticket before he even knew for sure if he could get her address from Sheri? Yeah, it was stupid. But damn it, he needed answers. If something was wrong, he wanted to fix it. If Chloe was simply torn apart about her grandmother’s illness, he wanted to be there for her. He could still hear the pain in her voice when she spoke about losing her father. He hit the button to pay for the ticket.