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Do You Take This Cop?

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2019
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She had to be. For her own son’s sake.

Not guilty.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Miles asked as he approached her, his blue eyes shining.

She curled her nails into her palms. From all outward appearances, Miles was perfect. Handsome. Successful. A man who shared his time and talents with those less fortunate. A successful businessman devoted to her and their young son, Jon.

“Lynne,” he demanded in an undertone only she could hear as he kept his grin firmly in place, “I want you to congratulate me. Now.”

Lynne got to her feet, her legs shaking, her stomach churning as she stepped into her husband’s outstretched arms. She put her arms around him, her hands still fisted as he kissed the top of her head, his fingers digging painfully into her waist.

She shivered.

He stepped away, a look of concern on his face. For the people around them. “Honey, are you all right?”

“Actually…” She cleared her throat. “I’m not feeling very well.”

“Can I get you a glass of water?” Allison Martin, the head of Miles’s legal team, asked.

“No. Thank you. I…I think it’s all just…catching up with me,” she said weakly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just take a moment to…freshen up.”

“Let me walk you to the restroom,” Miles said, touching her arm. She forced herself not to shrink from him.

“That’s not necessary. Why don’t I meet you in the car?” Before he could answer, she walked away, making sure to keep her movements unhurried as she went out into the wide hallway.

Inside the ladies’ room, she rushed into the last stall, not even able to latch the door before nausea overcame her. Falling to her knees in front of the toilet, she retched, emptying the meager contents of her stomach. When she was done she flushed and, trembling from head to toe, got to her feet and stumbled out. Gripping the edges of a sink, she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

Her hair fell past her shoulders, the professional highlights like strands of sunshine in the honey blond. Despite the sweat beading on her forehead her makeup was perfect, her sedate herringbone pencil skirt and matching fitted jacket were high quality, her shoes and bag worth more than most people made in a week. She looked exactly like what she was. A rich man’s wife.

Just what she’d always wanted to be.

She washed her hands, then snatched a few paper towels from the dispenser and soaked them in cold water. Pressed them to her face, careful not to smudge her makeup. Miles wouldn’t like that. Especially today.

He’d told everyone justice would prevail, that he’d be found innocent of the horrific charges leveled against him.

He’d been right and wrong. Because justice hadn’t prevailed. The jury hadn’t believed Miles had sexually abused that boy. They’d bought the defense’s claim that these allegations were a last-ditch effort on the boy’s mother’s part to extort money from Miles. To the jury, to everyone in their circle, Miles was a saint who’d been railroaded by the system and a confused young boy. They saw him as the victim.

But Lynne knew the truth.

She tossed the paper towels into the garbage, then cupped her hands under the running water and brought them to her mouth, rinsing out the acrid taste. She’d had such high hopes that Miles would be punished, that he’d be sent to prison, and she and Jon would finally be able to escape him. Her control shattering, she slid to the dirty floor.

Now they’d never be free.

CHAPTER ONE

FAITH LEWIS LOVED HER SON more than life itself. But honestly, if he whined at her one more time, she was going to duct tape his mouth shut.

“Why can’t I stay home by myself?” Austin asked sullenly from the passenger seat. “I’m not a baby.”

Then why are you acting like one? And worse, why had she reverted to thinking like a nine-year-old herself? She bit her tongue and strangled the steering wheel. If she’d learned one thing over the past twelve years, it was self-restraint.

Thank God she’d learned something, right?

She pulled into the municipal parking lot half a block down from Brit’s Snips and shut off her car.

“It’s not fair,” he continued, crossing his arms, his green eyes shooting daggers at her. “I’m almost ten—”

“Last time I checked,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt, “your birthday was eight months away.”

He flipped back his brown hair. If he’d let her give him a trim, he wouldn’t have to keep jerking his head like that.

“But why do I have to come to work with you?”

She pushed her sunglasses back on her head. “We’ve talked about this before. So many times I might as well put it on a recording and push Play the next time you start in on me.” And he would. Her son was nothing if not stubborn.

Like the color of his eyes, he got stubbornness from her. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating. They’d had this conversation every day since school let out two weeks ago. It was going to be a very long summer.

“It’s not like I’m gonna start the house on fire or something. Why can’t I stay by myself?”

“For all the reasons I’ve already explained.” Plus a few she’d kept to herself, such as her fear of coming home only to discover him gone. Tossing the keys in her purse, she opened the car door. “Now, I’m already late for work and you are about one more word away from losing your video-game privileges. Do you understand me?”

Scowling, Austin sank farther down into his seat. “Yeah,” he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow—yes, just like her own mother used to do when Faith was little. This day kept getting worse. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, yes, ma’am.”

Unlike her mother—who would’ve boxed her ears—Faith ignored the way he rolled his eyes. Hey, she didn’t expect him to like having to toe the line. She’d done plenty of things in her life because she’d had to and not because she wanted to.

She stepped out into the bright sunshine, her lightweight shirt clinging to her skin. But that had more to do with her frantic morning than the unusual June heat wave, in the mid-eighties for three days straight.

Heat wave. If the people of Kingsville, Maine, thought this was hot, they should try spending a summer in a cramped trailer with no air-conditioning down in South Carolina.

It’d melt their Yankee brains.

“Run down to Reynolds’ Mart,” she said, handing Austin a ten dollar bill, “and buy yourself something for breakfast.”

“Okay,” he said eagerly.

“Don’t even think of buying any boxed pastries, doughnuts and/or muffins. And avoid anything frosted, sprinkled with extra sugar, fried or carbonated.”

His face fell. “What am I supposed to eat then?”

“How about some yogurt? And some fruit?”

Austin made a gagging noise. “Yogurt is gross. It’s like eating cold snot.”

Faith grimaced and slid her purse onto her shoulder. “Thank you for that visual.”
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