The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(64)

Benny rolled his eyes. Their dad had never forced his opinions on people. That trait—like most—had its pros and cons, but Steffi knew his ambivalence drove Benny crazy at work. She appreciated her dad’s faith in her decision-making, but every once in a while, she wouldn’t mind him dispensing some advice. Her mom and then Molly had given loads of it back in the day.

“At least say something to Matt. He’s a doctor. He might have some insight here,” Benny said.

“No way. I don’t need him to be all over me. I went to my neurologist. He isn’t jumping up and down with worry, so I won’t, either.” She stared at her brother. “Promise me you won’t go behind my back.”

“Fine.” Benny pushed his empty beer away.

“Now, I hate to cut our family time short, but Claire’s waiting for me. We have to finish working up a proposal tonight. I’ll run with you tomorrow, Benny. Can’t make it tonight.”

“Just as well. I think I might’ve pulled a groin muscle last night.” He rubbed the inside of his thigh. “I should rest for a night.”

“Or lay off hooking up with Melanie Westwood for a while,” Steffi mumbled, while tossing a crumpled napkin at his head.

“Ha ha.” He threw it back at her.

Their dad didn’t react to the banter. Sometimes she wondered if he even listened during these dinner conversations. She gathered her dirty dishes. “See you guys later!”

On the way to the kitchen, she passed her favorite photograph of her mom—the one at Candlewood Lake, where they’d rented a house for the Fourth of July weekend one year. Her mom was sitting on an Adirondack chair at sunset, reading a book, with a glass of wine on the chair’s arm. Whoever took the photo must’ve said something that tickled her, then snapped the photo precisely at the best moment to capture the beauty of her mother’s laughter. Shining eyes. Pretty teeth. Dimples.

Time was funny, the way it could slip around like quicksilver, especially when it came to grief. In the immediate aftermath of a death, the ache of loss consumes the body until you doubt you’ll ever find a reason to smile again. The intensity of that yawning emptiness fades with time but can still sneak up on you in the moments when you want to hear the person’s voice or advice. Nowadays, Steffi no longer yearned for her mom’s touch or smile on a daily basis. But today, after lying in that noisy MRI tube, facing her own mortality, she’d thought about her a lot. Her mom would push her, like Benny.

Her dad, on the other hand, never thought his kids needed counseling, not even when their mom was sick. He always said life’s hard knocks help a person grow, and shrinks coddle and overmedicate people.

The Lockwoods didn’t coddle each other. That sense of independence and strength had always made her proud, but now she wondered if it had been a liability.



“I’ve been digging, but we’re not getting lucky with this one. The whore—” Billy began.

“The alleged victim,” Ryan corrected. He had no problem digging for evidence to discredit the woman’s testimony, but he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect. He and Billy weren’t in a position to judge her or even understand what drove that woman to prostitution. In his book, an uneducated prostitute who is buying groceries for her kid was a better person than an overeducated politician who harasses female employees.

“Yes, her.” Billy cocked an eyebrow. “Despite a bunch of arrests for solicitation, she’s never filed a rape claim. I hung out around her neighborhood this week to see what else I could learn. Aside from mild recreational drug use and a scuffle with another prostitute, she’s unremarkable. Then there’s your client. No one overheard them transacting. And some might say that, technically, it was rape since O’Malley didn’t pay. I feel bad for the guy, ’cause O’Malley’s kinda fucked.”

When Ryan grimaced, Billy said, “Bad pun, sorry. But physical evidence proves O’Malley screwed her. She’s bruised from when he pushed her out of the way to run from the motel room. My gut says Owen didn’t understand that he was supposed to pay, though. Too bad he freaked out instead of going to an ATM.”

“Too bad our belief isn’t enough, you mean.” Ryan rubbed his forehead. “We can use her prior arrests for prostitution to show a pattern of behavior, but I’d really like to get my client out of solicitation charges, too. O’Malley didn’t have the requisite intent, nor did he try to dupe her into a freebie. I’m convinced he just thought he was getting lucky.”

Owen’s low IQ would make jail that much harder for him. And then to live as a registered sex offender? The guy’s life was already complicated enough.

“One thing is bugging me, though. Why didn’t she get the money up front? Isn’t that standard?” Billy scratched the back of his neck. “Won’t the prosecution use that to argue it wasn’t a pay-to-play?”

“I’m sure they’ll raise it, but I’ll try to shut it down. Her blood tests came back positive for drugs and alcohol, and she’s no rocket scientist. If they were partying together, I can argue that she thought she’d collect at the end of the night after racking up extra services. Maybe I could even use the fact she didn’t collect money up front to prove it was consensual instead of transactional.”

Billy shrugged as if unconvinced. “I’ll keep digging tomorrow. It’s getting late, and I’ve got to run now.”