From the corner of my eye, I could see the agent moving to the door.
Finally.
Marcum paused. “I hope she’s as tough as she looks, Mr. Lang.”
“Isadora is tough,” I answered automatically.
“Not your sister,” Marcum said. “Toni Gallagher. She better be way tougher than she looks.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “What are you talking about?”
“In case it’s escaped your notice, it’s Friday afternoon.” She made a show of checking her watch. “By the time they get done processing her, it'll be pretty late. And she punched a cop. Nobody’s going to be rushed to get her arraigned. She’ll be spending some time behind bars. All weekend, to be blunt.”
“What the hell ever. They can set bail on weekends.” I tried not to think about how much that idea bothered me.
Marcum gave me an incredulous look. “I'd forgotten what world you lived in. Judges don’t work weekends. Lawyers might. If a case fits certain, shall we say, criteria, she might be let out on bond. But I can tell you now, hitting a cop? Any kind of assault? That ain’t gonna fly. No matter the circumstances. She’s going to have to see a judge before they even come close to letting her out.”
My gut started to get a little queasy as Marcum studied her slim gold watch, her lips pursed.
“She’ll get through processing in a few hours if she’s lucky. Then she’s got all weekend in holding. She might see a judge on Monday. Tuesday is more likely. Her paperwork will probably get lost. And when she does see a judge, they're not going to do her any favors for bail. Now, I don't know the details of her family's financials, but I think it's safe to say that they probably can’t afford whatever bail the judge sets.” Her dark brown eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “See, she doesn’t know all the big-time important people like you. She’s just a regular person. She’s fucked, in short.”
“Am I supposed to care about that?” The thing was…I did. Even as I said the words, I knew I cared. What the fuck? Why did I care? I’d been thinking about Isadora when I'd called in my favors, but now…
Now, I was just…
Shit.
“Pretty, mouthy girl like that, tucked away behind bars. She’s never had to sit in the holding tank before, I bet. Neither have you, I'm sure.” Her eyes gleamed. “It can get pretty ugly, especially since the cops will probably put her in with some unsavory people.”
“She kidnapped my sister!”
“No, she didn’t.” Marcum’s voice was cold and clear…and so certain.
I was torn between wanting to believe her and not wanting to. If the agent was right, then Toni was exactly who she'd always seemed to be…but that also meant I'd royally fucked things up.
“And here’s the thing, Mr. Lang. It doesn't really even matter how the next couple days play out, because she’s probably going to jail anyway.”
“But here you stand insisting she didn’t do anything.” I snorted. “Some faith in the justice system you have.”
Marcum started to laugh. It was caustic, bitter. It ended quickly though and she shook her head. “Educate yourself on the law, Mr. Lang. She struck a police officer while said officer was carrying out her civic duty. That’s second-degree assault. Granted, there was no arrest warrant, no legal way for the cops to force her to come in. And never mind that, in all fairness, she'd told them not to touch her and they really didn't have a legal right to. Or the fact that she'd probably felt trapped, with no way out.”
Trapped…
Toni had a reason to feel trapped. I’d lured her here. I’d told the cops to wait, then used them to ambush her. I’d set this all up and I had no doubt the cops had received the order to make sure Toni was brought in for questioning.
“Never mind that there was no reason for her to even be here in the first place,” Marcum added softly. “No attorney will ask about that, I’m thinking. Why bother trying to set up a clear defense? There were witnesses. You were one of them. I was one of them.” Her smile went even colder. “I guess she won’t be finishing that degree…ever. She hit a cop. That’s a felony.”
Now, in slow motion, I saw it happen again.
The way Toni had stared at me, the anger and betrayal in her eyes. The pain. Then had come the panic as the cops had closed around her. The hurt under the fury when she'd told them not to touch her.
“Have fun,” Marcum said, interrupting my mental reverie. “Explaining, I mean. Once I find Isadora – and I will – have fun explaining to her why her intelligent, caring, assistant is in jail. Why Toni Gallagher will never be a psychiatrist. Congratulations. You helped ruined that girl's life. Have a good day, Mr. Lang.”
I stumbled backward and barely managed to catch myself on the couch. “That’s…shit. She’s…”
But Marcum was already gone.
I shook my head and focused on what I knew. Marcum was speculating. I had a good investigator.
He had pictures.
I looked down. My gaze landed on one of them. It was Toni. Toni and that brother of hers. An older woman, it had to be her mother, bent over both of them from behind while the two siblings were sitting down. The picture caught them laughing.
“Fuck, what were you doing, Kowalski, family portraits?”
It’s family dinner.
Toni’s voice echoed in my ear.
The way her voice had caught. The pain in the words.
Once again, I saw her driving her fist into the cop’s nose.
Slowly, I stood up. I made my way over to the cabinet and helped myself to a bottle. It wasn’t my favorite bourbon, but it didn’t matter. I carried it over to the couch and sat down.
The burn of that first drink didn’t undo anything.
So I had another.
Then a third.
Somewhere along the way, I passed out.
Then I woke up and it was dark, so I had another drink because I could still think, still remember.
I could even still hear Toni’s voice. It’s family…
At some point, I finally passed out and this time, I stayed that way.
***
I lurched awake, unsure what had pulled me from the blissful ignorance of unconsciousness.
A knock on the door?
I practically bolted to my feet, and the second I did, I regretted it.
My stomach rebelled and I swayed, slamming both hands against the wall as I struggled to stay upright, as I tried to make my stomach stay in control.
What was…?
My head abruptly cleared. Oh, the pain was still there. Plenty of that. And the headache, the nausea, the misery…
But I could think.
I’d heard something.
A knock.
Shuffling on stiff legs, I moved into the hallway and stared at the front door. Doug wasn’t here. None of the staff were. I’d given them the weekend off. Normally, Doug wouldn’t have left no matter what, but he’d overheard me going over what I planned with the cops and he'd given me a look that said he wanted no part in it.
Toni. I saw her driving her fist into the officer’s face.
I heard her voice as she said, It’s family dinner. And the look of complete and utter betrayal that had slid into the deepest loathing.
“Son of a bitch!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the empty house. My headache pounded harder and harder and I bent over, thinking I might get sick. I deserved it.
Swallowing the bile in my throat, I straightened. I had to brace a hand on the wall to do it, but I was upright. I took one shambling step, then another. Out into the foyer. I squinted at the door.