The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(18)

Benny squeezed her and kissed the top of her head. “How’s she handling it?”

“I’ll know more on Sunday.” Steffi eased away. “I’m meeting her for lunch.”

“I can’t believe it.” Benny crossed his arms and looked off into the distance, head shaking. He’d been only a year ahead of them in school, so he’d hung out with Peyton and Claire almost as much as Steffi had. This had to hurt him a little, although Steffi knew he wouldn’t show much emotion. It just wasn’t in the Lockwood DNA. “Tell her I’m pulling for her.”

“Of course.” Steffi pressed her hands to her face, then shook off as much of the sorrow as she could.

“Disaster can strike anyone, anytime.” Benny frowned. “News like this makes you check your priorities, take risks . . .”

Steffi had always thought Benny’s life was exactly as he wanted it. “Sounds like you’ve got a question mark in there somewhere. Is something up?”

He looked away. “Nah.”

“Now who’s hiding?” She poked his shoulder.

He batted her hand. “I’m a guy. That’s what we do.” And then, before she could prod further and turn it into a real discussion, he said, “Race ya back to my house.”

“Hey!” she called, now chasing him to catch up, fresh salt air pumping in and out of her lungs. With each step, she thanked God for her good health. For her family and friends. For the ability to do a job she loved. All in all, her life and priorities were pretty good, as long as she didn’t think about her nonexistent love life.

Ryan’s surprisingly concerned expression resurfaced.

Maybe Benny was right. Maybe she should take a risk before her time was up.



Ryan dumped the file on his desk before collapsing onto his chair and scrubbing his hands through his head. His new job meant handling more serious cases, like this newly assigned rape case, State of Connecticut v. Owen O’Malley.

The alleged victim claimed that Ryan’s client, O’Malley, had raped her. After reading through the file, Ryan had his own theory.

The victim had prior arrests for prostitution. Meanwhile, his client had an IQ of seventy. His gut told him that the victim tried to take advantage of O’Malley, and when O’Malley didn’t pay, she cried rape.

His client’s IQ ought to be low enough to argue diminished mental capacity, which would undercut the requisite intent needed for a guilty verdict. The really hard part was that his client had become enraged when pressed for the money and hurt the victim when he pushed her aside to flee the scene.

This wouldn’t be the first case where a prostitute filed rape charges. Prostitutes did get raped sometimes, but he didn’t believe O’Malley raped this one. Maybe the guy had hurt her in his angry retreat—he was a big, bulky man—but that wasn’t rape. The fact that his client had become so agitated when pressed for payment supported Ryan’s theory that O’Malley didn’t understand that she was a prostitute.

He thumbed through the police report again. While he read the victim statement and took notes, the phone rang.

“Val?” He looked at the clock. Emmy shouldn’t be home from school yet, so she couldn’t have called Val for anything. “What’s up?”

“Are you free to come to a mediation meeting next Monday at nine a.m.?”

He leaned back in his chair, tossing his pencil on the desk. “What’s this one for?”

“You’re the lawyer. Don’t ask me why everything needs to be so complicated.” He heard her sigh and imagined her raking her hand through her hair like she did when she got frustrated. “I just want to settle the money stuff so we can move on.”

The money stuff, as opposed to the custody stuff. Why she needed money was beyond him. She’d moved in with her rich lover. According to Emmy, their home was a sleek penthouse overlooking Boston Harbor and the Financial District. Probably cost a few mil.

Ryan, on the other hand, certainly wasn’t rolling in dough working for the government. He couldn’t get his own place until he had a better grip on his finances, so he flipped through his docket calendar. “Looks like I can make it.”

“Good. See you then. And before you complain about having to come back for these meetings, remember this can be over quickly if you’re fair.”

Fair? In his mind, he smashed the phone against the desk while laughing maniacally. Looking back, his entire life with Val had been a string of impulsive, out-of-control events. Rebound sex, unexpected pregnancy, quickie wedding, baby blues . . . He’d love to rein in his life, sooner than later. The first step would be giving his daughter stability. “Speaking of fairness, I know you’re off having a blast and all, but could you try to remember to call Emmy every night before she goes to bed?”

“I’ve been calling her.”

“Not last night. And you missed a night last weekend, too.”

“She goes to bed at eight o’clock. I’m not always available in the evening.”

“Then call her after school, but call her every day.” Reminding himself that he had to have a decent relationship with Val for Emmy’s sake, he swallowed his pride and softened his tone. “Don’t let her think you don’t care. It’s brutal having to dry her tears to get her to sleep.”