lives.”
“Yeah, and you know what that meant for me today? The whole department thinks I’m some huge joke. I’m always going to be the cop who managed to get arrested. All I’ve got in my job is my reputation. And they ruined that.” I sat down beside Charlotte, hesitating. I championed the truth every day, but I didn’t always like speaking it, especially when it meant saying something that left me bare. “They took my family away. I was in that cell, thinking about you and Amelia and Willow, and all I wanted to do was hurt someone. All I wanted to do was turn into the person they already thought I was.”
Charlotte lifted her gaze to mine. “Who’s ’they’?”
I threaded my fingers through hers. “Well,” I said, “that’s what I hope the lawyer will tell us.”
The waiting room walls of the law offices of Robert Ramirez were papered with the canceled settlement checks that he’d won for former clients. I paced with my hands clasped behind my back, leaning in to read a few. “Pay to the Order of $350,000.” “$1.2 million.” “$890,000.” Amelia was hovering over the coffee machine, a nifty little thing that let you put in a single cup and push a button to get the flavor you wanted. “Mom,” she asked, “can I have some?”
“No,” Charlotte said. She was sitting next to you on the couch, trying to keep your cast from sliding off the stiff leather.
“But they have tea. And cocoa.”
“No means no, Amelia!”
The secretary stood up behind her desk. “Mr. Ramirez is ready to see you now.”
I pulled you onto my hip, and we all followed the secretary down the hall to a conference room enclosed by walls of frosted glass. The secretary held the door open, but even so, I had to tilt you sideways to get
your legs through the clearing. I kept my eyes on Ramirez; I wanted to watch his reaction when he saw you. “Mr. O’Keefe,” he said, and he held out a hand.
I shook it. “This is my wife, Charlotte, and my girls, Amelia and Willow.”
“Ladies,” Ramirez said, and then he turned to his secretary. “Briony, why don’t you get the crayons and a couple of coloring books?”
From behind me, I heard Amelia snort—I knew she was thinking that this guy didn’t have a clue, that coloring books were for little kids, not ones who were already wearing training bras.
“The hundred billionth crayon made by Crayola was Periwinkle Blue,” you said.
Ramirez raised his brows. “Good to know,” he replied, and then he gestured toward a woman standing nearby. “I’d like to introduce you to my associate, Marin Gates.”
She looked the part. With black hair pulled back in a clip and a navy suit, she could have been pretty, but there was something off about her. Her mouth, I decided. She looked like she’d just spit out something that tasted awful.
“I’ve invited Marin to sit in on this meeting,” Ramirez said. “Please, take a seat.”
Before we could, though, the secretary reappeared with the coloring books. She handed them to Charlotte, black-and-white pamphlets that said ROBERT RAMIREZ, ESQUIRE across the top in block letters. “Oh, look,” your mother said, shooting a withering glance in my direction. “Who knew they’d invented personal injury coloring books?”
Ramirez grinned. “The Internet is a wondrous place.”
The seats in the conference room were too narrow to accommodate your spica cast. After three abortive attempts to sit you down, I finally hauled you back onto my hip again and faced the lawyer.
“How can we help you, Mr. O’Keefe?” he asked.
“It’s Sergeant O’Keefe, actually,” I corrected. “I work on the Bankton, New Hampshire, police force; I have for the past nineteen years. My family and I just got back from Disney World, and that’s what brought me here today. I’ve never been treated so poorly in my whole life. I mean, what’s more normal than a trip to Disney World, right? But no, instead, my wife and I wind up arrested, my
“Yeah, and you know what that meant for me today? The whole department thinks I’m some huge joke. I’m always going to be the cop who managed to get arrested. All I’ve got in my job is my reputation. And they ruined that.” I sat down beside Charlotte, hesitating. I championed the truth every day, but I didn’t always like speaking it, especially when it meant saying something that left me bare. “They took my family away. I was in that cell, thinking about you and Amelia and Willow, and all I wanted to do was hurt someone. All I wanted to do was turn into the person they already thought I was.”
Charlotte lifted her gaze to mine. “Who’s ’they’?”
I threaded my fingers through hers. “Well,” I said, “that’s what I hope the lawyer will tell us.”
The waiting room walls of the law offices of Robert Ramirez were papered with the canceled settlement checks that he’d won for former clients. I paced with my hands clasped behind my back, leaning in to read a few. “Pay to the Order of $350,000.” “$1.2 million.” “$890,000.” Amelia was hovering over the coffee machine, a nifty little thing that let you put in a single cup and push a button to get the flavor you wanted. “Mom,” she asked, “can I have some?”
“No,” Charlotte said. She was sitting next to you on the couch, trying to keep your cast from sliding off the stiff leather.
“But they have tea. And cocoa.”
“No means no, Amelia!”
The secretary stood up behind her desk. “Mr. Ramirez is ready to see you now.”
I pulled you onto my hip, and we all followed the secretary down the hall to a conference room enclosed by walls of frosted glass. The secretary held the door open, but even so, I had to tilt you sideways to get
your legs through the clearing. I kept my eyes on Ramirez; I wanted to watch his reaction when he saw you. “Mr. O’Keefe,” he said, and he held out a hand.
I shook it. “This is my wife, Charlotte, and my girls, Amelia and Willow.”
“Ladies,” Ramirez said, and then he turned to his secretary. “Briony, why don’t you get the crayons and a couple of coloring books?”
From behind me, I heard Amelia snort—I knew she was thinking that this guy didn’t have a clue, that coloring books were for little kids, not ones who were already wearing training bras.
“The hundred billionth crayon made by Crayola was Periwinkle Blue,” you said.
Ramirez raised his brows. “Good to know,” he replied, and then he gestured toward a woman standing nearby. “I’d like to introduce you to my associate, Marin Gates.”
She looked the part. With black hair pulled back in a clip and a navy suit, she could have been pretty, but there was something off about her. Her mouth, I decided. She looked like she’d just spit out something that tasted awful.
“I’ve invited Marin to sit in on this meeting,” Ramirez said. “Please, take a seat.”
Before we could, though, the secretary reappeared with the coloring books. She handed them to Charlotte, black-and-white pamphlets that said ROBERT RAMIREZ, ESQUIRE across the top in block letters. “Oh, look,” your mother said, shooting a withering glance in my direction. “Who knew they’d invented personal injury coloring books?”
Ramirez grinned. “The Internet is a wondrous place.”
The seats in the conference room were too narrow to accommodate your spica cast. After three abortive attempts to sit you down, I finally hauled you back onto my hip again and faced the lawyer.
“How can we help you, Mr. O’Keefe?” he asked.
“It’s Sergeant O’Keefe, actually,” I corrected. “I work on the Bankton, New Hampshire, police force; I have for the past nineteen years. My family and I just got back from Disney World, and that’s what brought me here today. I’ve never been treated so poorly in my whole life. I mean, what’s more normal than a trip to Disney World, right? But no, instead, my wife and I wind up arrested, my
Similar Books
