Page 33 of Duress
Shaking my head, I realize I completely missed what hejust asked me. “Uh, sorry, I think that migraine is coming back.”
“I said, do you want to come? It’s in New York.” It takes a moment for me to process his words. It’s been a long, long time since he’s invited me on a work trip. Is this bad timing? Is he suffering from a guilty conscience too? Or is he afraid to leave me alone? I desperately do not want to go on this trip with him. This is too good of an opportunity.
“I don’t know, darling.” The endearment tastes bitter on my tongue. “I feel like I might be coming down with something. I think that’s what triggered the migraine. I think I’ll just stay home and rest.” I let my body sway slightly, forcing him to steady me. The briefest flash of something crosses his expression. Annoyance? Relief? Suspicion? It’s gone before I can decipher it. “I was just going to lay down. Let’s talk about it tomorrow if I’m feeling better.”
“Of course.” Bryce nods and pulls away, the concern that I thought I’d seen moments ago, gone without a trace.
There he is. The detached, work obsessed, callous bastard that my husband has evolved into. I let my lips turn up slightly in a demurethanks for understandingexpression before making my escape to our bedroom, my mind thinking of ways to look sicker tomorrow, so he will buy my excuse when I ask to stay home.
CHAPTER 28
EVERLY
The problem with snooping through my husband’s office and work files for evidence of criminal activity is that I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking for, or what will be enough of a smoking gun to put him away.
Bryce has powerful friends who owe him favors. It’s how he’s moved through life, elevating his status and position. He does someone a favor—gets their son out of a DUI charge, makes a rape accusation go away, pleads down a potential career-ruining felony to a misdemeanor. In turn, they introduce him to the governor or recommend him to a wealthy client, let him be the attorney on retainer for the millionaire owner of the local strip-mining company.
I’ve spent a lot of time this week reflecting on our life together, his career trajectory and his biggest cases. I can’t believe I was so fucking oblivious to never notice how ruthless his ambition was. Even that first Thanksgiving we spent together, when I had hearts in my eyes, excited to finally bring a boy home the Honorable Judge Strausswould approve of, he was using his charm to ingratiate himself to my dad.
Notjust because he wanted to be with me. But because of what being in my father’s orbit could do for him and his career.
A fresh wave of bitter resentment makes my stomach flip, as I wonder if Bryce ever truly loved me. For now, I force myself to believe that he did. That at one point we truly were in love. Because the thought that I gave the better part of two decades, the best years of my life, to a man who never really loved me is devastating in a way that can drive a person to self-harm. And with nightmares of Jake plaguing me already, I don’t think I can handle that level of heartbreak.
So instead, I choose to think Bryce lost himself along the way. Does it excuse him? No. But if he’s truly been horrible the entirety of our relationship, what does that say about me? Wouldn’t that mean I’m complicit? Because I benefit from his cutthroat ambition? Is this why I am trying to find something for Dane to use against him? To prove I’m a better person? So when the truth about his father’s death inevitably comes out, I can pray this is enough to earn his forgiveness?
Thanks to the near constant state of moral crisis I’ve been in since losing my mind and sleeping with Dane, it wasn’t difficult to fake illness when Bryce asked me about the trip again. I had spent the night fighting sleep and forcing myself to stay awake, hoping the exhaustion would make me look more like death in the morning. My planworked, and Bryce left this morning. Now I have the next three days to search.
I’ve spent the last three hours combing through the files in his desk. Many of them were old case files, from the early days of his career. But there are a few newer ones as well. I don’t know why he would choose to hold on to some in his personal home office. If there is a connecting thread or pattern for these cases, I don’t see it.
Getting frustrated with how little I understand about his job and how the sociopolitical machinations of Birch Falls works, I reluctantly come to the conclusion that I’ll need Dane’s help in finding the evidence that we need. I had hoped I could do this without spending more time with him and falling further into this fucked up web of lies. I keep telling myself it’s because I am protecting his heart for when he finds out the truth about his father’s death and that I knew. That I don’t want him to hurt. But the truth is, I can’t stand the idea of seeing the look of betrayal in his eyes. Not after the way he looked at me like I was the sunset, as we lay in bed together, basking in the morning sunrise. Like I was precious and important to him. I don’t deserve to have him look at me that way.
But, in order to get justice for Jake, I’m going to have to bring Dane in and risk breaking both of our hearts.
CHAPTER 29
DANE
My palms are sweaty, and my knees feel weak as I pound my fist on the front door of Everly and Bryce’s house.
She called me today as my shift was ending, her voice timid and uneasy, so soft I almost couldn’t hear her. I had to cover my free ear and stop walking to hear her when she asked me if I could come over tonight.
She said Bryce had left for the weekend to attend a conference. The prospect of having three days alone with Everly made my heart soar, but the caginess in her tone had me worried Bryce had done something. Something I might have to kill him for. The fact that I even had that thought and how little apprehension it gives me, should be a blaring alarm that my head is in a completely fucked up place and I should take some time off from work. That or go see a psychologist.
When Everly opens the door, my heart falls. She’s pale, dark circles rimming her bloodshot eyes. Her hair is piledin a messy bun on top of her head. She’s in an oversized sweater, a dark hunter green that makes her eyes deepen so much they resemble a coniferous forest at night. She looks…broken.
“Shit, baby, what’s wrong. What’d he do?” I rush in, cupping Everly’s face in my palms, kicking the door closed behind me. Her eyes widen in surprise, her hands come up and clasp mine but don’t move, like she’s uncertain if she wants to hold them closer or pull out of my grasp.
I thread my fingers into her silky hair, tightening my grasp on her ever so slightly so she doesn’t try to pull away. I’ve been dying for her touch and out of my mind with worry for the last week as she’s held me at a distance. My eyes scan every inch of her face, looking for any evidence or even a hint of physical harm.
“I’m okay, Dane. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” It takes a few torturously long seconds for her words to register.
“You’re okay? Are you sure? Did he?—”
Everly puts a hand over my mouth to stop me.
She narrows her eyes at me, and her voice hardens. “I said I’m fine. Please, let go.”
I’m so stunned by her coldness, she slips out of my fingers when she takes a step back. I immediately feel cold as she moves away from my touch.
