Vindicate (Recovered Innocence #1)(70)

I discovered it early during one of my first visits with him at Chino Men’s. He threw it out there—The Number. Sixty-three. He said, “I’ve been here for sixty-three days, but it feels like forever.” He was right. It did feel like forever. It was forever. More than two thousand days later, I’ve learned the hard meaning of forever and what failure really is. Because I’m not just counting the days, I’m counting the ways I failed him. Every day a new way. I can’t turn my back on him. And I can’t move on until Beau can move on too.

I don’t look at the bedroom door as I pass. I don’t glance back at it when I go in to feed and take care of Oliver. If I see it I’ll want to go through it, and I don’t know what I’ll find on the other side. More than that, I don’t know what I’ll do if I cross over the threshold. I might decide to be selfish and choose him over Beau. If I go after him I might give up on someone who everyone has given up on and left behind. I can’t do that. I can’t look at that door.

Oliver lives in a cat’s paradise here and I live in a perverted sort of hell. He looks at me just like he always does, with a mixture of tolerance and loathing. He hasn’t been the same since Cassandra died. None of us have. Does she know? Can she see what we’ve all become? What would she say?

I’m not just fighting for Beau. I’m fighting for Cassandra too. She’s been gone more days than Beau’s been in prison. I can’t give Cassandra her life back. I can only give her justice. And take care of Oliver as best as he’ll let me.

I put a hand out to pet him. He doesn’t move away, so I touch him lightly, stroking from his head to his tail. He head-butts my wrist. I pet him again. We do this two more times and then he walks away. He’ll only let me in so far and not an inch further. I get the parallels between us. The irony isn’t lost on me.

I leave Oliver and go into the spare bedroom. This time last night I climbed into bed next to Leo. Tonight I’ll sleep alone. It’s better I make the transition sooner rather than later. Before I get used to it and can’t sleep without him.

I tell myself this and other lies over and over for the next couple hours. It’s because the sheets still smell like him. I’m not used to sleeping in such a large bed. This isn’t my house. I’m not used to the sounds it makes. The bed’s colder because we’re closer to the ocean. I’m anxious about Beau’s case. I’m lost because there’s nothing to do but wait.

—

I wake up in the morning rusty-eyed, with a headache. The sun is barely over the horizon. I throw on a sweatshirt and go in search of something hot to drink to soothe my aching throat. There’s a box of doughnuts on the counter and a take-out coffee cup. Leo must’ve gotten up early too. I lean over the cup and inhale. Earl Grey. Damn his thoughtfulness.

“You’re up.”

He looks as bad as I feel. I can only imagine what I look like.

“Thanks for the tea. You didn’t have to.”

“Habit, I guess.” He shrugs and takes a sip from the cup in his hand. “My dad called. He has some news for us. He’s on his way over.”

“Okay.”

There’s a knock at the door. Leo goes to answer it. I don’t know what to do with myself. This is so much more awkward than I imagined it would be. I want to say something to Leo, but there’s nothing really to say.

Mr. Nash comes in looking like he had almost the same night we did. The look on his face when his gaze swings to mine makes my stomach do a painful swoop. “You’re going to want to sit down for this.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “What happened? Is Beau okay?”

Leo pulls out a stool for me. He doesn’t put his hand in mine like he usually would to reassure me. Instead, he moves to the other side of the counter and leans against it.

“It’s not about Beau,” Mr. Nash says. “It’s about Mrs. Wheeler.”

Leo comes off the counter. “What about her?”

“Someone broke into the retirement home she lives in last night. The guy knew exactly which room was hers. He used a pillow to try to kill her. She managed to get to her call button and the nursing staff came in and interrupted the attack.”

“Oh, my God,” I gasp. “Is she okay?”

“Fortunately, she was moved to another room earlier that day. The woman in her old bed has some bruising, but she’ll be fine.”

Because of Leo. He had her moved to a room with a window. She could’ve been hurt or worse.

“He followed us,” Leo says. “He saw exactly which room we went into. Son of a bitch.”

“It’s not your fault, son. This guy’s a pro.”

“Did they catch him?” I ask.

“No. He got away. But they got his license plate.”

“Let me guess,” Leo says. “California license plate number 6TPW001.”

Mr. Nash nods. “The very one.”

I leap off the stool. “Who owns that car?” I have to know his name.

“Detective Paul Winfro.” Mr. Nash sets a file on the counter and opens it.

Leo and I both lean in for a closer look. Our gazes collide.

“Oh, my God,” I breathe.

“He’s one of the officers who showed up when your apartment got broken into.”