Pretty Little Wife(75)
THE CROWDS OUTSIDE LILA’S HOUSE MORPHED FROM AN ANGRY mob to a cheering squad virtually overnight. The reporters remained, and their ranks swelled. No one jeered or lobbed threats at her from the safety of the street. Banners and signs sprang up. One called her a hero. Another said, WE BELIEVE IN YOU, and the newest thanked her for doing the justice system’s job.
She hated all of it.
When the doorbell rang, she only answered because Christina texted first to say she’d just pulled in the driveway and needed to come in. Lila cracked the door wide enough to hear a cheer and people calling her name. She ushered Christina inside and slammed and locked the door behind her, blocking out the sounds that disturbed her silence.
“Wow.” Christina’s eyes went wide as she repeated the word two more times. “It’s wild out there.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘nightmare.’” Lila rested her back against the door, determined to physically and emotionally put a barrier between them and her.
“It’s a good sign for you. People no longer believe you’re evil.”
Lila groaned instead of answering. She gestured for Christina to head into the family room.
“I guess all of this means you’re even less likely to come back to work.”
“I’m afraid so.” The idea of burying herself in paperwork and negotiating deals sounded like a dream. But no, she wasn’t ready to drag her butt around town, pretending to be okay. She’d never been the type to live a happy, carefree life, but she’d managed to eke it out and be fine. Solid and workable. She had things she liked to do and a job that kept her just busy enough.
Aaron’s secret life blew a hole through what little balance she’d attained and rattled her security. She’d done and thought things over the last weeks she’d never believed would have been possible. He’d burned through the last of her humanity, leaving her hollow and empty. A shell of a person, without drive and with no clear vision on how to move forward.
“I refuse to feel sorry for him. I’m talking like a thinking, breathing real person. A mom with two girls under sixteen who now doesn’t have to worry about her kids being preyed on at school.”
“You do, and you will. Aaron being dead doesn’t eradicate all evil in New York.” If only, then maybe she could function again.
Christina snorted. “It helps me sleep better at night. That’s the point.”
“Tell Ginny that,” Lila said.
“I did even better. I wrote the prosecutor and my congressman.”
Lila froze. “You didn’t.”
She waited for Christina to laugh her comment off as a joke . . . but she didn’t. Lila’s amusement faded. Stunned respect took its place.
“Of course I did.” Christina’s bracelets jangled as she moved her hand around in the air. “Screw the people in charge who prioritize the rights of the pedophile over the rights of the kids to be secure and alive.”
Lila rubbed her forehead, trying to fight off a building headache. “I’ve spent close to two months trying to wrap my head around the man he really was.”
“Months?”
Lila closed her eyes at the slip. When she opened them again, she smiled. “I meant weeks.”
“Did you?”
All those feelings welling inside her, the same ones she tried to tamp down—anger and frustration, disappointment and surprise, the lack of regret when she turned on that gas and watched Aaron drift off forever, how she felt nothing when his body was found but surprise that someone stabbed him—bubbled up and poured over. She tried not to think about the twisting and turning inside her or talk about it because she couldn’t. But for that one moment, she let the words slip out.
“I thought I’d feel relieved,” she whispered into the quiet room.
“He ripped your life apart.” Christina sighed. “Blame him, not you.”
Christina always knew the right thing to say.
Lila never put much stock in friendship, even female ones. The one thing she’d learned over the last few weeks was that she’d been wrong not to take the lifeline when some women reached out over the years. Some people did deserve her trust.
Chapter Fifty
ROLAND WANDERED INTO GINNY’S OFFICE JUST BEFORE EIGHT with Chinese food. The smell had her head snapping up and her stomach growling.
He didn’t lecture her about her work hours or cause a fuss. He sat down across from her and started unloading the white containers.
“You retain your title as best husband in the world.”
“Of course I do.” He handed her a set of chopsticks. “And this is the part where I remind you that you—your work—is responsible for finding Karen and returning her to her parents. You did an amazing thing and have earned a night of rest. Everything else, all the other details, can wait.”
He knew what ate at her, the failures that poked and tore at her. He always knew. “Finding her now, after all this time, doesn’t feel as great as you think. It’s little consolation to her family.”
“Ginny, that’s not true. You brought her home. You gave them closure.”
She tried to open the carton, but her fingers tapped against the cardboard, not getting the leverage she needed to get the job done. “I was too late. We spun around in circles, looking for Aaron, thinking he was a victim, and—”