All Fall Down. Erica Spindler
me in.”
“Name’s Thomas Weiss,” Melanie said, handing her the report. “Batterer. Put his live-in girlfriend in the hospital. And not for the first time. However, this time it was bad enough, the girlfriend’s ready to charge him.”
Veronica looked the case over. She jotted the victim’s name, address and place of employment on her legal pad, then did the same for the accused.
She met the policewoman’s eyes. “It says here he owns a restaurant.”
“The Blue Bayou. In Dilworth.”
“I’ve been there. Nice place. Good food. Cajun.”
“That’s the one.”
“And she’s one of his bartenders.” Veronica pursed her lips. “He’s done this to her before?” “Yes.”
“But she’s never pressed charges?” “She has but dropped them. She won’t this time.”
“How do you know?”
“He threatened to kill her. She’s really scared.”
Veronica made a sound of regret and tossed the file back onto the table. “Sorry. No go.”
“No go?” Melanie repeated, stunned. “But why? It’s a good case.”
“With what you’ve got, we can’t win. And I’m not willing to start the clock ticking until I’m confident we can. Look at it this way, you’ve got nothing here but the girlfriend. One who’s scared silly at that. Scared girlfriends with a history of taking a hike on a case do not make good witnesses.”
Melanie leaned forward, her expression eager. “She won’t change her mind this time. I’m sure of it. This time—”
Veronica held up a hand, stopping her. “If the victim waffles, if she shows the slightest bit of hesitation, the jury thinks ‘So what?’ This guy looks squeaky-clean on paper. He’s the owner of a popular area restaurant. He’s the picture of the successful, educated citizen.”
“So he can get away with beating up his girlfriend?”
Veronica met the other woman’s gaze evenly. “Yes.”
Melanie made a sound of frustration, collected the report and stood. “This sucks.”
“Tell me about it.” Veronica followed her to her feet. “I’d love to nail this creep, Melanie. Trust me on that. Bring me more and I will. A witness to corroborate. A neighbor, kids. Another woman to stand up. If you can do that, I’ll nail his ass to a stake. And that’s a promise.”
9
Ashley let herself into Mia’s house, using the key her sister had given her for emergencies. She closed the front door behind her, relocking it. She glanced at her watch and frowned. At nearly five o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon, she had been certain she would find Mia home.
She would be soon, Ashley decided, crossing the massive foyer, moving toward the kitchen. In the meantime, she might as well make herself comfortable. First stop, the refrigerator and one of Boyd’s expensive, imported beers.
The click of her heels on the marble-parquet floor echoed, and Ashley paused, suddenly aware of how quiet the house was. No ticking clock or purring cat broke the silence. No drone of a TV inadvertently left on or muffled sound of children playing next door. She had always found Mia’s home mausoleum-like. Had always thought it beautiful but cold. Unwelcoming. A kind of gilded cage.
Now, after what Melanie had told her about her sister’s marriage, she realized just how on the mark her feelings had been.
Maybe she wasn’t completely losing it, after all.
Maybe she was hanging on by a thread, instead.
It had been exactly one week since she’d argued with Melanie about Mia and her marriage and Ashley had been unable to put the confrontation behind her. She had been unable to forget the way the argument had made her feel—angry and resentful. Bitter.
She couldn’t understand why Melanie refused to see the truth, why she refused to acknowledge that Ashley might be able to see the situation more clearly because she wasn’t a part of her and Mia’s little clique. Their little twin’s club.
Three was a crowd.
Wannabe idiot. That’s all she was. All she had ever been.
Her sisters and nephew were everything to her. They were the most important part of her life. The only part that meant anything.
But they had more in their lives. So much more that she sometimes thought they didn’t need her at all. Thought that if she fell off the face of the planet, they would hardly notice she was gone.
Ashley sucked in a sharp breath, hating her thoughts, denying them. They weren’t true. Melanie and Mia loved her. Her alienation was of her own creation. Her loneliness had nothing to do with other people—only herself. With her displaced anger.
Wasn’t that what the shrink she had seen for a while had told her? That she would always be alone until she faced the truth about her past?
Ashley dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and crossed to the refrigerator, but didn’t open it. On the appliance’s shiny black front was a photo of her and her sisters, taken on their thirtieth birthday. Their arms were linked, they were smiling. Three women, strikingly attractive in identical flame-red dresses, near mirror images of one another.
Ashley settled on her own image and an ache of loneliness and longing settled in the pit of her gut. Near mirror images. Not exact.
Her part of the mirror contained a distortion. Subtle, true. But it set her apart. Ashley, the one who was different. Ashley, forever the outsider. The outcast.
Tears choked her and she cleared her throat, fighting them off. Wishing she could fight off the ache in the pit of her gut as easily, wishing she could find something to fill the empty, hurting place inside her.
Ashley passed a hand over her eyes. What was happening to her? It was as if she was becoming a person she didn’t recognize. One filled with fear and rage. At times vengeful, others repentant. One who wanted to fit in but who always felt alienated, who longed for love but was afraid to allow anyone near her.
Why couldn’t she let down her guard? With a man or anyone else? Why couldn’t she let herself be loved?
Ashley blinked against the tears that blinded her. As she did, her vision cleared. Beside the photograph, also held by a refrigerator magnet, was a note from Boyd, informing Mia that he was going to be very late and that she shouldn’t wait up.
The note’s meaning registered and her equilibrium returned. Fall in love and end up like her sisters? One constantly fighting for her independence, the other too dependent even to try?
Making a face, Ashley opened the door and reached inside for a beer. As she did, she heard the sound of the garage door rumbling up. Mia. No doubt trunk loaded with packages. Her sister loved to shop and spent a good portion of her days enjoying Boyd’s seemingly endless supply of money.
Ashley shook her head. Doctors. Overpaid, self-proclaimed kings of the universe. She played nicey-nice with them day in and day out—save for a few who were authentic healers, she could do without the lot of them. Her esteemed brother-in-law as well.
Ashley opened the bottle of imported brew, then fished around in the cabinet for a glass. The front door opened and closed; she heard the rustle and crackle of shopping bags and Mia humming under her breath. Ashley smiled. Her sister was nothing if not predictable.
Grabbing a handful of mixed nuts from the jar on the counter, she took her beer and headed toward the living room.
She found Mia there, back turned toward her as she bent over the coffee table, still humming under