“So I’ve heard.”
Tara swallows and drops my arm, clearly trying to pull herself together. “I don’t think my accusations are going to be enough, Jami. I think he’ll slip through the cracks, and it’s only a matter of time before he gets visitation rights and even shared custody. I can’t let that happen. Iwon’tlet him around Maddy anymore.”
I’m quiet for a moment, only because I know she’s right, and that’s the scariest part of all. Even after court, Kasper Hill is still at large, and once the anger management classes are completed, he could be right back in the department, right back into their lives …
“Do you have evidence to support that he’s dirty?” I ask. “That could be crucial in taking this thing further.”
“I … I have something. Something that could help,” Tara says quietly. I reach out and squeeze her arm with a reassuring smile.
“Don’t tell me anything right now, okay? Wait until you can speak to Ely so we can get it on record. For now, just keep it to yourself, so Kasper doesn’t hear something through the grapevine. We just don’t know yet who is in his pocket and who’s not.”
“Okay,” Tara says with a nod. “Okay, I can do that. She glances over her shoulder once more, and when she looks back at me, the frown is replaced with a smile, and I know she’s putting on her happy face for Madison. I want to push her, want to ask, but I can’t. I won’t. And only because I know that pissing off a shitbag like Kasper Hill is a dangerous endeavor. Whatever evidence she might or might not have could put Kasper away for years.
“We didn’t have this conversation,” I tell her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Not until you’re ready. Now, I have to go, but try to relax a little, okay? Get settled in.”
Understanding, Tara forces a smile and nods as I leave, closing the door firmly behind me as though that might keep out the danger of a bad person. A bad person like Kasper Hill, anyway.
18
ELY
It’s dark outside when I finally get home, and Jami is already there, waiting for me with dinner ready and a beer sitting on the table. I draw her into my arms for a kiss and close my eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla on her skin.
“You didn’t have to cook for me, sweetheart.”
“I know,” Jami says with a playful grin. “I wanted to. Besides, you cooked for me yesterday.” She grins and kisses me again, then leads me to the dining table, where we sit down to eat. “It’s nothing fancy,” she says, dishing me up some lasagna. She adds a couple of garlic knots to the plate, and when I look at her, a red tint has taken over her cheeks. “It’s not my best work, but it still tastes half-decent.”
“It’s better than half-decent.” I take a bite of the lasagna and wink at her. “It’s wonderful.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Detective Burton.” Jami leans back in her chair and takes a sip from her glass of wine, watching me eat over the rim of her glass.
“Did Tara like the new apartment?” I ask, and Jami nods.
“Very much so. Maddy did, too. I think this is going to be good for them, honestly.”
“I hope so.” I finish off the lasagna and then take Jami’s hand, leading her to the couch, where we sit down and snuggle up together. I turn on the TV but don’t put anything on. Not yet. I know we’re both thinking the same thing right now, and I can tell she wants to ask, but just when I think she might not think to do so, Jami speaks up.
“What’s the deal with Kasper?” she asks. “Is he going to prison?” She looks hopeful, and the fear behind her eyes makes me sick. I look away from her and stare at the blank TV instead, wishing this was a conversation we could have avoided completely.
“He’s been temporarily suspended over the accusation and must attend court-ordered therapy,” I tell her, and, before I can say more, Jami jerks her head to the side to look at me, eyes blazing.
“That’s it?” she asks, her voice catching in her throat. “He beats his wife and threatens his daughter, and he has to go to fuckingtherapy?”
The cuss word sounds silly coming out of her mouth, but that doesn’t stop it from hitting me just as hard.
“And anger management,” I add, but I know it doesn’t matter. Kasper Hill should be in prison, and both of us know that. Hell, everyone knows that.
Jami gets up to pour herself another glass of wine, and she grabs a second beer for me while she’s in the kitchen. She comes back and hands me the bottle, then sits down next to me again, but the tension in her body is clear.
“I’m afraid for them,” she says, scooting closer to me until one leg is flung over my lap. I put the beer on the coffee table and fold my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head, and Jami takes a drink of wine.
“They’ll be okay.” I’m trying to reassure her, but at this point, I feel like I’m only trying to reassure myself. “She made the right decision, Tara did, by turning him in. We can protect her.”
“Are you sure?” asks Jami. “Because nobody could protect her before she came forward, even though we all knew what she was going through.”
“It’s different now, and you know that,” I murmur, resting my lips on top of Jami’s head. “It’ll be okay, James. I promise.” I feel her chest rise and fall under my hand like she’s trying to control her anxiety, and it kills me inside. I want her to be put at ease. I want her not to worry.
I want Kasper Hill behind bars, so I never have to think about–let alone worry about–him again.
