Page 61 of Love Always

There is always something about this line that makes me want to laugh and say, “Okay, I need to be Joe.” I grew up reading The Hardy Boys.

“Mr. Gutiérrez?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m in the car—”

“Alone?”

“Yes, but—”

“I just had this conversation with your boss, but I want your assurance as well.”

“I’m listening.”

“There was a gun found in the car of another student, a young woman named Laurel Russo. I want your word that you will do everything you can to make sure that girl gets what she deserves. My son did not kill anyone. He couldn’t kill anyone.”

I grip the steering wheel a little harder. “Well, Mr. Proctor, the detective on the case believes the gun was planted in the car. Ms. Russo found the body. I was actually there and took her back to her house because she couldn’t drive she was so upset.”

“That’s not my concern. I want my son protected. Am I clear? If you find something that points in her direction you promise you will report it?”

“Where is this coming from, Mr. Proctor? We have an excellent rapport with the local police, Portland, and Boston city police forces. We wouldn’t hold back information related to a case.”

His silence is long and then the reason for the call comes into sharp focus: “It has come to my attention that this Laurel Russo is connected with Colton Security.”

“You mean, is she the sister of Finn Colton’s girlfriend?”

His “Yes” is delivered in a grinding baritone.

“I can confirm this, yes. But I can also tell you our clients take precedent. You don’t have to worry, Mr. Proctor, I will not incriminate your son for the sake of Laurel Russo.”

He’s convinced. His tone changes and he starts backpedaling, saying he didn’t mean to infer any malfeasance and of course he believes in our integrity.

What I said is the truth—whatever evidence turns up, gets turned over. Period. Nothing is compromised. Ever.

As I turn off the highway, my mind races with thoughts and ideas and what-if’s. I don’t usually spiral, but I’m doing it now. What if I did find some evidence? What if something happened that pointed at Laurel, would I hide the information?

Of course.

Why?

Because I know damn well she didn’t do it, and I’ll do anything to make sure she doesn’t get hurt. I know this truth, it’s at my core, I know it instinctually, but later, when she lays in my arms, warm and supple, her body nestled with mine, I feel it and it scares the shit out of me.

΅

I pull up to The Inn and park. It’s a little after two which means Laurel is still at work at Weaver’s Grocery Store “and Lindy’s Deli” she always reminds me.

My leg itches like crazy and I need to get some more silicone gel, though I’m pretty sure they don’t carry it. But I’ll take itching over phantom limb pain any day. I don’t get it often, but when I do, it hurts like hell. It feels like the ankle I don’t have is twisted out, broken, then the pain wicks up my leg, moving from the phantom to the real knee and upper thigh. It’s always the same type of pain: like a burning, swirling, knife.

It often starts with itching though, so I need to deal with this.

As I cross the street onto the asphalt, the sun shines brightly for the first time in about three days. The sky, for this moment, is wiped clear of clouds. Gulls wheel above, their cries soft, hailing warmer air currents. Mid-afternoon is a quiet time down on the Wharf. There’s a boat fueling up at the end of the pier, but the fishermen and women are out and won’t come back in until early evening. There are two families down at the other end of the beach before the tumble of rocks in the lighthouse. I turn my collar up, telling myself I’m just here for the silicone gel, but knowing I’m hoping to catch a glimpse of Laurel.

She’s actually the first person I see. The second person is Professor Cruz. She’s standing behind the cash register, one hand on the keys and one on the counter. He’s buying a box of crackers, some cheese, a bottle of wine and grapes. Jesus this guy is so obvious.

In the nanosecond the bell tinkles, she sees me and before I can open my mouth or say anything, she shuts me down with a look. This is when I realize she now knows the guy’s a creep. Now she knows those weren’t innocent texts. I unbutton my coat and my suit jacket, just so this jerk can get a view of my shoulder holster. I don’t usually do this sort of thing, but the guy’s an ass. I can’t chase him out of here but I can intimidate the hell out of him. Even though I carry, I’ll be the first one to say we need stricter gun laws. The reason most people have guns is to hunt. The second reason people have guns is to intimidate. I’m about to play that game. I’m not proud about it, but it’s necessary.

I walk slowly, quietly down the aisle to try to get within earshot of them. She throws one more glance in my direction, begging me not to interrupt.

Cruz is talking quietly, and I can’t hear anything he says. Then he leans forward, stretches out an arm and puts his hand over hers.