Page 48 of Dirty Liars

“How do I start?” he asked.

“I’ll make some calls,” I said. “And then you’ll need to pack a bag.”

The misery in his eyes broke my heart. Along with the self-loathing was a grief so deep it was palpable. A grief over the woman he’d never get a chance to love.

“Dickie,” I said. “I believe Chloe did love you.” I held up a hand before he could argue. “No, wait. Listen. We’ve uncovered some things in this investigation I can’t really go into, but we believe Chloe felt she had no choice but to marry Theo. There are witnesses who say they knew of your relationship with her, that Theo knew about it too and he didn’t care. Because he wasn’t in love with her. But she did believe that he could help keep her safe.

“The last time the two of you were together, I don’t believe it was her being cruel. I believe it was her loving you as best she could and saying goodbye. Maybe you and Chloe had more in common than you realized, both of you trapped by the pain of your past and unsure how to break free.”

Tears had been trailing slowly down his cheeks, dripping onto the table.

“It’s easier thinking she might have loved me, despite being me,” he said. “So thank you for that.”

“I promise to be here, every step of the way,” I said. “The rest is up to you.”

I felt something shift between us—not just friendship, but a deeper understanding. We’d both faced our demons. Maybe now, finally, Dickie was ready to face his too.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

I’d madea lot of helpful connections during my short stint at Augusta General—when I’d still been working with the living instead of the dead. So it hadn’t taken long for me to make a few phone calls and get Dickie set up for next steps. The center in California specialized in addiction treatment for high-profile clients. They had discreet intake procedures, no press access, and a success rate that justified their astronomical fees. Dickie wouldn’t bat an eye at the cost, but the real price would be confronting the demons he’d spent a lifetime avoiding.

Martinez and Cole still hadn’t arrived—neither had Jack for that matter—and I was starting to wonder if something had come up. I was used to cop hours and cop life, so I didn’t give it too much thought. I’d told Doug I’d be back in about an hour, and then I’d driven Dickie back to his place, helped him pack a bag, and then taken him to the airport in Richmond so he could catch the last flight of the day to LA. My friend Louise was going to pick him up at the airport. The choices Dickie made after that were his to decide, but at least he had a starting place.

By the time I got back to the house, the driveway was full of cars, so I pulled around to the side and parked over by the garage that held all of Jack’s man toys. His Tahoe was parked in its usual spot, so he was back from his trip to see Ambassador Vasilios. The fading light of evening cast long shadows across the yard, and I felt the weight of the day settle into my bones. I was exhausted, but I knew we were far from done.

I walked into the comforting chaos of home. Oscar barked excitedly at so many people coming to visit, and the smell of food wafted from the kitchen. I’d lost track of the time somewhere along the way and realized it was almost seven.

“Hey,” Jack said, coming from the back of the house. The lines around his eyes had deepened since this morning, and there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. Whatever happened with Nicholas Vasilios hadn’t gone well. “Where have you been? Doug said Dickie stopped by.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Long story. I’m really hoping he’s not a viable suspect at this point because I just took him to rehab.”

Jack looked at me surprised. “Of his own free will? Or did you have to tie him up and kidnap him?”

“He said it’s what he wants. I called a friend and got everything set up for him. He’s got a chance, Jack. A real one.”

“Well,” Jack said, rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion. “At least I know where to find him if he needs to be questioned again.” He softened slightly. “And I hope it works out for him. I’d like to see him break the cycle.”

“What happened with the ambassador?” I asked. “Why are there so many cars out front? Who’s even here?”

“Also a long story,” Jack said. “I just walked in the door myself, so I’m guessing Doug is hosting something that revolves around food in our kitchen. I did see that Cole and Martinez are here, so maybe we can get some work done. I need aspirin.”

I put my hand on his shoulder, feeling the knots of tension there. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s been an interesting day. It’ll be easier to tell everyone at one time what’s happened.” He covered my hand with his for a moment, drawing strength from the contact. In that brief touch, I felt what he wasn’t saying—the strain of watching bodies pile up, of racing the clock against a killer who seemed to be one step ahead.

I followed Jack into the kitchen and noticed the pizza delivery guy had made another trip. There were pizza boxes stacked on the island, and half a dozen people stood around the granite slab, eating and talking. The easy camaraderie of law enforcement—making jokes over food while discussing death. It was how we all coped. I was glad to see there weren’t as many people as it had sounded like when I’d first walked in.

Cole and Martinez and Derby were there, all in comfortable off-duty clothes, though Cole had switched out his Stetson for a baseball cap. I hadn’t seen Martinez in a week, not since we’d closed our last case. He’d taken some personal time off, and I had to say I couldn’t blame him.

Our last case had involved a child who’d been sold as part of a trafficking network. There were some cases that weighed heavier than others, and there were some victims that would stay imprinted in your mind forever. That had been one of those cases.

But Martinez seemed to be in good spirits tonight, and he was in jeans and a black T-shirt, which was very unlike Martinez to wear something so casual. His black hair had been freshly cut, and he wore a gold chain around his neck, so he wasn’t a complete slouch like the rest of us. The week off had done him good.

I understood why the cops were here. I was a little hazy on Lily and Sheldon.

“We got invited for the food,” Lily said, reading my mind. “Hope you don’t mind. But after we picked up the body in Newcastle and dropped him off, Cole said Doug invited everyone for pizza and Sheldon was hungry.”

“My mom made tuna casserole,” Sheldon said with a shudder. “It doesn’t agree with me, so pizza is the more preferable option. Did you know casseroles are the official food of funerals across the country? Why don’t we serve casseroles at viewings instead of cookies?”

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