Page 84 of It's One of Us
Perry quits hovering over Olivia and stands behind Park. “Anything new?”
“Other than this asshole has been stalking us?”
“For how long?”
Park sits back in the chair, running a hand over his chin. “At least a month. My feed only goes back so far. Even if I reached out to the security company, they’d only have it for so long, too. He’s been waltzing in and out of here like he owns the place.”
“Has he taken anything?” Perry asks.
“I think he’s been taking my clothes,” Olivia says.
The brothers respond as one. “What?”
She shifts her sling, looking utterly miserable. “I’m missing a few things. A top. A bra. Some panties. I just assumed they were lost in the wash, or the dry cleaner screwed up.”
“It’s time to call the police,” Perry says.
“Actually, it’s time to talk to Erica Pearl,” Lindsey says. “She just rolled up. Liv, why don’t we get you upstairs. Even with my mad makeup skills, you’re not looking up for this.”
“I’m staying.”
The three Benders meet eyes. All three of them know how stubborn Olivia can be.
“Maybe this isn’t such a great idea,” Perry says, but Park puts up a hand.
“Stow it, okay? There’s no right or good decisions in this. I want my side of the story out there.”
“You should call the damn police and tell them about this.”
“They’ll hear about it in five minutes when I bring it up to the reporter. They haven’t done us any favors. Why should I help them?”
“Park, he has a point,” Olivia says.
“So you’re taking his side against me, is that it?”
Olivia bites her lip. “Please stop attacking me. I am just saying that in light of this new information—”
The reporter shows up at exactly the wrong moment. Or maybe the right one, he doesn’t know. All Park can do is stow his worries, his hurts, and put on the show he knows he must give. There will be time later for them to talk. He realizes they haven’t been properly alone in days. Haven’t had anything more than an argument all week.
He misses his wife.
The worst thing? She doesn’t seem to miss him.
“Hi there!” a bright voice calls from the hallway. Lucía enters the room, followed by Erica Pearl, who swans around the den, looking around at the floor-to-ceiling shelving surrounding the fireplace, the shiplap and stone, the comfortable sofa and chairs. This is a relax space for them, a place to chill, watch a movie, play a game of cards with friends. It’s always been one of Park’s favorites, but it’s becoming decidedly less so right now.
“Are you all set? The light is pretty good. If you’re comfortable, we can chat here. I like this room. It’s homey. Less showy.”
“This room is fine.” Olivia says. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“We haven’t. I’m Erica Pearl, Channel Four. My goodness, are you all right?” The teensiest bit of accusation lingers in the air—did your husband do this to you? Park bristles, but Olivia smiles, graciousness personified.
“Car accident. I hit a deer. I’m fine.”
“Oh, that’s so scary. I’m glad you’re okay. You sure you’re comfortable giving an interview right now? I could always reschedule.”
Like hell they’re rescheduling, Park thinks. They need to get this over with.
“We’re good,” he says, watching Perry out of the corner of his eye. His brother slinks from the room disapprovingly.
