No. Because he remembered what I said, knew I didn’t want my legacy to be that of a victim, thought he was shielding me from?—
I exhale sharply then focus. “Please just explain.”
She does—about the district attorney thinking the case won’t look good at trial, that a jury will be unlikely to issue a conviction. “He wants to offer a plea deal that means he’ll skate with just time served.”
Meaning the couple of days he spent in jail before bail was made.
My temple throbs as I absorb that blow.
Then I sigh and know I have to make a decision.
Or maybe…I made the decision the moment my car pointed me in the direction of the rink instead of home.
“It’s bullshit,” Tera says. “The same sort of misogyny that has made it so men don’t face consequences for their actions time and again.” She sighs. “And there’s nothing we can do about it—I’ve contacted past employers, pressed the D.A., hired private investigators, talked to all of our staff again?—”
“Except me.”
There’s a long blip of quiet.
“Joey?”
“You’ve talked to all of the staff except forme.”
More silence. Then, “Damon told me he spoke to all of the coaches.”
“He might have spoken to the rest of the coaching staff,” I say quietly. “But he didn’t speak to me.”
Her inhalation rattles through the speaker, and it takes everything in me to press on.
But I do.
“Because he already knew that Hiller raped me.”
THIRTY-SIX
Damon
I frownas I walk to my car, not quite comprehending what I’m seeing.
Joey’s car in the lot.
She’s supposed to be with Kylie, drinking wine, watching crap TV, and then calling me so I can pick her up and we can try out drunk sex.
Instead…
I stride over to the spot, peer in through the window and see the picture one of her young fans drew for her tucked behind the gearshift, and know it’s her car.
“What the hell?” I mutter.
I pull out my phone, see that Kylie’s called and left me a message, but just pocket it again and head for the rink.
Maybe Joey got caught up with something and lost track of time.
I’ll pop in and make sure that she’s all good, drive her over to Kylie’s if they still want to meet up.
Then we don’t have to worry about leaving her car at the apartment complex.
Grinning, I grab my badge, scan into the building, and make my way through the corridors until I get to Joey’s office. The light is on, but it’s empty, her purse on the desk, her laptop bag beside it.
