Ashton Scott

I stare in silence at her for a long moment before leaning forward. “You do realise she’s the one paying for your lawyer and investigator? Without her, we can’t afford them.”

Tension settles between us like an old friend. Jolene taps her fingers on the metal table as a rush of cold wind prickles ice over us. Or maybe it’s just our history that does that. Her eyes avoid mine while she thinks about what I said. I count the minutes of our frigid silence and pray a prayer I doubt will do any good that she is moving one step closer to giving me what I need to be able to put an end to this maddening dance we have to do every week.

“I don’t understand you anymore,” she finally says. “After you stopped believing in my innocence, I thought we were done, but I held out hope you’d come to your senses, and you did. It broke me when you cut me out of your life, and it’s been hard for me to trust in us again. I’m trying hard and working at this. But you? It’s like you came back here and told me you wanted us to be together, and yet you act like that’s the last thing you want.”

I can’t contain myself anymore. I push up out of the seat and pace in the spot behind it. Rubbing the back of my neck, I try like hell to process every thought ramming its way through my mind. Impossible to do, because there are a lot of fucking thoughts rushing through. A lot of conflicting thoughts that I don’t know what to do with anymore.

Coming to a standstill, I give her my gaze. “I do want us to be together, but like I said, we weren’t in a good place for a long while, so this is going to take some time to get back on track. We need to focus on getting you out of here first and to do that the investigator needs some information from you. Can we just go over that today?” My voice is snappy, which is not helpful, but I can’t manage anything more than this. Not today when I’m feeling irritated as fuck that I have to be here.

Her lips press together, and she flinches. “I love you, but I don’t like the man you’re becoming, Luke.”

I sit again, and my eyes bore into hers. Ignoring her, I say, “He needs to know where you were the Monday before your mother died. Can you remember?”

She watches me with the newfound angry stare she seems to have mastered over the last month. I’m not sure she’s going to answer me, and when she does finally open her mouth to speak, I wonder what will come out. “Why does he need to know that?”

Fuck.

I shrug as easily as I can manage. “I have no idea,” I snap. “Does it matter? He obviously thinks this information will help him, so can you just think back to that day please?” I’m going to need a strong drink after this visit.

Her gaze darts away from mine, and she looks beyond me. A long few moments stretch between us before she finds my gaze again. “I’ll have to think about it.”

The tightening in my chest intensifies and as much as I want to slam my hand down on the table and scream at her to try harder to recall, I maintain my calm. Nodding, I say, “Okay. He also needs to know if you ever took the car to that car wash place down near the river?”

Her patience shatters and she stands. Looking down at me with more anger than she’s ever directed my way, she snarls, “I don’t understand the need for this information. And I don’t like the feeling I’m getting that you aren’t on my side. I’m your wife, Luke. The mother of your child! You promised to love me forever the day you married me. For better or worse, remember?” She bends her face closer to mine. “Well, this is the worse part of our forever, and you need to do better. I don’t want to see you again until you’re ready to do that.”

With that, she turns and stalks away from me.

Fuck.

Fuck.

* * *

“She’s not going to give me the information you want.” I pace next to my car in the prison car park as I hold the phone to my ear and wait for his response.

“Luke, you know the score here. Either you get that information or we’ll be looking more closely at charging you for your involvement in that armed robbery.”

I grip the phone tighter. “You know I had nothing to do with that robbery.”

“What I know is that you were seen talking to the driver of the getaway car on the day of the robbery. Regardless of whether I can prove any involvement, I can sure as hell screw around with your life while I try. Do you really want that for your son?” His smug voice makes me want to reach through the phone and rip his throat out.

“No, Detective, the question you should be asking yourself is whether you want to put my son through that after every-fucking-thing he’s already been through. I’ve given you all the evidence that proves without a doubt that Jolene committed this murder. I have no responsibility in helping you prove she committed the other one you think she did. And my family has the money to take this further. I’ve played along with this for long enough; now it’s time for me to get my life back. I’ll see you in court if I have to, and don’t think for one second that I haven’t been keeping records of all this because I have.”

I don’t wait for his response before ending the call.

Taking a deep breath, I run through what I need to do.

First things, first—my mother.

Fuck, can this day get any worse?

* * *

“Luke!” My mother throws her arms around me when I arrive at the swanky hotel she’s having lunch in. She’s clearly been drinking, but that doesn’t surprise me. It’s what Estelle Ashcroft does well in life. That, and men.

I pull out of her embrace. Eyeing the guy sitting across from her at the table, I say, “Matt. I didn’t realise you two were seeing each other again.” Matt Breen and my mother have a friendship that has spanned roughly thirty years. He also happens to be the father of my half-brother, Tyler, after they had a brief fling. He’s been a constant in our lives and they often socialise. Yet, this lunch looks cosier than usual.

Matt’s mouth flattens. He and I don’t see eye-to-eye on many things—my mother being one of them. He likes to encourage her party lifestyle while I would prefer to see her settle down and get her shit together. Unfortunately, in her forty-nine years, Estelle Ashcroft has carried on her family’s tradition of drinking which her grandfather and father started. The fact she has old money behind her that won’t run out in her lifetime only assists her chosen style of living.