“I am,” Trish said.
“As the police were taking Bre away she told me something, something that she’s now also told my aunt.” The next sentence made my chest ache. “Bre claims to be pregnant with my father’s child.”
Silence.
I waited.
“Um,” Trish finally said, “Vee, this could change things. If Reid’s will specifically lists you as the primary beneficiary?—”
“It doesn’t,” I interrupted. “I haven’t seen the will, but I’ve been told by Joe Eads that the will designates the beneficiary or beneficiaries as Reid’s children.”
“We will need confirmation of her claim, paternity tests.”
“I don’t care about the estate. I care about the Coopers. How am I supposed to be co-owner with an infant?”
“Shit, Vee. Don’t panic. Right now, all we have is a murder suspect claiming to be pregnant with the child of the man she is accused of killing.”
“Should we let the prosecutors know?”
“That isn’t your place. I would think Bre’s attorney would be the one to share the information. This case is still very young.”
I asked a question that had been bothering me. “I don’t understand. Bre told me days after my father’s death that she loved him and he loved her. She showed me an engagement ring that she claimed he’d bought for her nearly a year ago. Now she states she’s pregnant. Why would she kill him? Hell, I don’t know how an automobile accident turned into a murder investigation.”
“Why?” Trish asked. “If there’s a love component to this case, it’s just gotten exponentially more complicated. I didn’t go into criminal law because civil law is ruled by precedent. Criminal isn’t as predictable. Why do people do anything? And as for why and how your father’s accident grew into a murder case, we need to wait to hear the evidence given for probable cause. The thing is that a prosecutor heard evidence and agreed there was enough to arrest her. That means there’s something there.”
“Have you found any documentation from my parents’ divorce?”
“I have people working on that.”
“What if I can’t avoid a conversation with Bre?”
“Record it,” Trish said. “Kentucky is a one-party consent state. As long as one party in the conversation—you—knows about the recording, it’s legal. I’m not suggesting it would be evidence, but it could save you if Bre’s attorneys implicate you in any way.”
“Thank you for the update.”
“I’ll know more about your parents’ divorce soon. I’ll also put out feelers for anything on the Commonwealth of Kentucky v. Bre Stanton.”
“Thank you.”
The time in the corner of my computer screen said 5:15 p.m. If I had a chance of cooking for Fin tonight, I needed to head to the grocery store and home. My cell phone rang. Aunt Rachel’s name was on the screen.
Chapter 16
Fin
* * *
As I pulled out of the Maker’s Mark parking lot and past the guard gate, my irritation at still not being cleared to practice was top of mind. I almost missed the absence of reporters. It wasn’t that there were fewer than there had been prior to Reid’s funeral. There weren’t any. The side of the road where news vans had been camped out was now clear. The sight filled me with relief. Hopefully, they’d given up. Their constant hounding was one less thing Vee had to worry about.
Leaving Maker’s Mark earlier than usual, I sailed through Lexington traffic. Not far from Vee’s place I pulled into the grocery store parking lot, more out of habit. As I parked my truck, I remembered Vee saying she wanted to cook tonight. The truth was that I wanted to cook. I wanted to do something—anything. I wasn’t sure how Troy Dennison spent four weeks watching practice from the sidelines. Even in L.A. I practiced, running plays I’d never run during a game.
This was the fourth day I sat out—watching.
I finally walked over to Vee out of desperation. Just sitting on the sideline was eating away at my nerves. Dennison made a seamless reentry onto the team. The kid was something special. I believed that in my bones. I could live with sitting on the sidelines during the game. It was the inability to practice and work out that had me on edge.
This was my thirteenth year in the league. The Coopers contract would keep me dressed in amber for a total of three years. At the end of that contract, I’d be thirty-nine years old. Gripping my steering wheel, I felt every minute of those years, even the ones I hadn’t yet experienced.
Gritting my teeth, I took a deep breath. The pain on my left side was beginning to subside. It wasn’t as sharp as it had been two weeks ago. Stepping out of the truck, I felt a twinge. Every ache or tenderness was like nails on a chalkboard. More irritating than painful.
