with Marsh just because she wanted to. And maybe that’s what all the anxiety was about. She wanted Marsh just because he was Marsh. It could be that made all the difference.
Inside she sat to unbuckle her sandals. The telephone rang, and again she ignored it. But she stopped fiddling with the strap and listened as the message began, hoping it was Marsh, with something reassuring to say about the evening.
Instead a woman’s voice began to record after Tracy’s message.
“Tracy? It’s Sherrie. I imagine you’re frantic, but I had to call. CJ’s all over the news here. I’m not sure the media’s going to bother to find you for your opinion, but just in case—”
Tracy flung an unbuckled sandal across the room and limped at a rapid pace to the telephone. Sherrie, her old college roommate, was one of the few people who had stuck by her after the divorce. But she’d never had news like this to share. Tracy grabbed the receiver.
“Sherrie?”
“You are home. Well, no surprise you’re not answering your telephone.”
“What do you mean about CJ?”
“You mean you don’t know? Nobody called to tell you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“CJ was released from prison, but it didn’t hit the news until this afternoon. It’s a big deal in California—”
“No, it’s not possible. He was in Victorville for life. For a couple of lives!”
“I guess not. His attorneys got him out, at least until they can have a new trial. I don’t understand it all, but they’re talking about prosecutorial misconduct. Altered records and testimony. The Feds wanted him so badly it looks like maybe they messed with the evidence. At least that’s what the papers are saying. Everyone says they’ll try him again, but in the meantime, he’s out as of yesterday. I don’t know how they kept it quiet as long as they did.”
Now Tracy understood her mother’s telephone call. If only she had listened. If only she hadn’t just assumed the call was another baseless rant.
CJ!
“Listen to me, Sherrie. Do you know where he went? Where he is now?”
“No idea. He’s not giving interviews. I’d guess he’s holed up with his attorneys, figuring out what he should do next. Didn’t he say all along he was innocent, that he just trusted the wrong people? They’re probably preparing his defense for the next go-round. He hasn’t contacted you, has he?”
Tracy stared out the window.
“Tracy?”
“If he did, what do you suppose he would want from me?” she asked.
“Has he?”
“No. No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“You know, you don’t sound so good. Do you need me? I could fly down next week. Hold your hand, or fend off CJ, if he shows up.”
The road outside Tracy’s house was as empty now as her bed. She had not seen her ex-husband. Even if CJ was out of jail, he had to be in California. He probably wasn’t even allowed to leave the state.
“I’ll let you know if I need you,” she told Sherrie, “but CJ must realize I don’t want anything to do with him. He’s an old hand at ex-wives. I was just the last bimbo who made him look good. If he wants companionship, he’ll find somebody younger and thinner.”
She wasn’t sure where that last adjective had come from. She really was a mess.
“If you’re wrong, stay away from him, okay? I mean, prosecutorial misconduct is not the same as not guilty. It doesn’t mean CJ is innocent.”
They talked for another minute, then Tracy hung up.
She couldn’t help herself. Still wearing one high heel, she turned off the lights, then limped to the window.
She stood absolutely still for half an hour, gazing into the darkness, but only tree limbs moved in the lazy Florida breeze.
chapter three
Rishi rarely slept past dawn, but this morning Janya had already been up for an hour when she finally heard the shower. She suspected her husband’s long hours at work had finally caught up with him. By the time he arrived at the table, an omelet, coffee and fresh fruit were ready in the kitchen.
“I did not mean to sleep so late.” Rishi took his seat and rested his head in his hands, as if he wasn’t yet ready to hold it erect.
She thought many men would phrase the sentiment differently. “You should not have let me sleep so late,” they would say, and she, as a woman, would be expected to accept this as just. But Rishi was not such a man. He took responsibility for his own actions. Raised by a