Page 35 of Fight for Me

His eyebrows lift in surprise before he looks to the side, “I don’t think so. But I knew your parents. We’ve been friends back in the day...”

My eyes widen at the man when a realization hits me. “You’re that Robert. Robert Barnett.”

The man looks taken aback by the fact that I heard about him and doesn’t respond, so I continue, “Mom told me about you. She said that you were in the military with my father.”

“Did your mom... say anything else?” Robert seems uncomfortable as he asks in a low voice.

Seeing how flustered he is at the thought that I might know about their affair back in the day makes me shake my head in negation, and I notice the way he breathes in relief.

“So how did you end up leading this case? Isn’t this some kind of conflict of interests or something if you and David were friends?” I ask to preoccupy my mind with something before I shatter. I can feel the grief trying to swallow me, but I need to put it aside for the moment. I need to know what happened.

Happy with the subject change, Detective Barnett returns to his professional mode. “Obviously I can’t share every detail of the investigation with you, but the fact was, your father wanted to expand his business all the way to Madison. He wanted to enter the game against some bigger players, so to speak. For that, he needed someone trusted here...”

“Risky,” I mutter.

Robert nods before continuing, “We kept in touch throughout the years, but I wouldn’t say at that point that we were best friends. Anyway, during our meeting he was acting weird, talking in riddles, then we started talking about our families... things went downhill pretty fast. I looked at him more closely and quickly caught on to what our meeting was meant to be really about.”

“The trafficking,” I supply.

“Yes, basically,” he murmurs, looking down at the open files. “I know this must be really painful for you, but there are some questions I need to still ask you about your mother, that can help us catch her killer.”

I fiddle with my hands under the table to stop them from shaking and say, “Ask away, I want to be done with this.”

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I WALK OUT OF THE STATION in a daze, not really seeing what’s around me. I squeeze my hands into tight fists and walk through the parking lot toward my car. Before I can get there, a wave of nausea hits me, and I bend toward the nearest bush to throw up my lunch. Violent heaves shudder through my body as hot tears slide over my cheeks.

“Oh God,” I gasp and rest my hands on my knees, so I don’t fall over. My mother is dead. She was murdered. Brutally. In cold blood. She’s gone, and I will never see her soft smile ever again. My son will never meet her. I truly have no other family left apart from Henry.

I straighten from my position and quickly wipe my face with my sleeve, just as a distressed voice reaches me, “Jennifer, are you all right?”

It’s Robert. He runs in my direction with a bottle of water in hand, then uncaps it and extends it to me with a worried expression on his face. “Here, dear, drink this.”

I nod in appreciation and take a small sip, so I don’t get sick again. My hand is still trembling slightly, but the initial shock is over for now.

“Rob, is everything all right there?” I hear being called from some distance behind me. It’s a voice I thought I would never hear again in my life. I stiffen and involuntarily squeeze the bottle I’m holding, making the water spill onto my palm. Before I can even think about it, I turn on my heel and there he is.

“Brody?” I mutter disbelievingly and swipe at my eyes, thinking I’m so wrecked that I’m starting to hallucinate.

The man who’s been haunting my dreams for the last three years freezes in place when his eyes jump from Robert to my face, and I see the confusion on his face before it gets whipped away and cold indifference sets in its place as he walks toward us.

His jaw is clenched when he says to Robert, “Sorry, I didn’t take your calls, man. I was on a job. You didn’t have to send your guys to get me. So, I hope it’s important.”

Brody glances toward me and then gives the detective a meaningful stare, like he’s angry at the man that I’m here. That’s not a reaction I would anticipate from him in a million years at seeing me again, and I try not to let it show on my face, but damn does that add salt to the wound in my already bleeding heart.

I open my mouth to address him but am cut off by Robert. “It is important. It’s about Wallace.”

I flinch a little in surprise when Brody hisses, “What the fuck? You know I’m done with this shit. I told you...”

“We found Marissa Wallace. She’s been murdered,” Robert says bluntly, but his eyes are tormented. I grimace and involuntarily squeeze the bottle again, which reminds me that I’m still holding it. Brody’s shocked gaze slams into me, regret written all over his face.

I clear my throat and turn to Robert. “Thanks for the water... I need to get home now. I’ll... let you two get back to it.”

Not waiting for a response, I get in my beat-up car and drive away.

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AFTER I COME BACK FROM the station, I feel completely drained and detached from reality, so I don’t even as much as frown at Rita’s yapping about me being late and talking about what a shitty mom I am. I ignore her and put the electric kettle on to heat some water.

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