Strike Me Down - Mindy Mejia Page 0,48
The skyway was well lit, making the alley seem twice as dark. It had been a struggle to make out anything at all. What exactly had she seen? To have witnessed it and still not know for sure was infuriating.
“He’s not returning my calls.”
“It’s after midnight.” Mike sat in bed scrolling on his phone. He’d still been chatting with the babysitter when she’d gotten home, the two of them laughing and trading anecdotes about Henry while Nora retreated immediately to the bedroom and called Corbett. His cell. His work line. He didn’t answer voice or text. She debated calling Katie, but didn’t want to worry her, not yet.
After she’d seen—whatever it was—Nora had raced through the skyway to a connected parking garage, ran down an escalator to street level, pushed through the tournament crowds still exiting the stadium, and jogged the block to the alley.
It was empty. Apart from a few dumpsters and some litter, the space was abandoned to graffitied cinder block. She’d turned around and stared at the groups strolling past before walking quickly to Parrish. Music pumped out of the bars lining the streets and a siren wailed a few blocks away. When she got to their building, Corbett’s office was empty, but his minivan was still parked next to her car in their ramp.
“It had to be Corbett.”
But the farther away she’d gotten from the alley, the less certain she was. She’d started drinking water and had taken a preemptive aspirin to un-fog her head.
“Is it so important that you talk to him tonight?” Mike tossed his phone on the nightstand and yawned. “Can’t you just see him tomorrow?”
She’d be at Strike tomorrow, right where Corbett had told her to be. Get the money and get out, he’d said. He made everything sound so simple. But he hadn’t told her he was late-night walking pals with Logan Russo.
Nora kept pacing, ordering and reordering the facts in her mind, trying to impose an arrangement that would make sense. Trying to make it simple. She knew three things for sure.
One. Corbett had gotten a call from someone and told his wife he had to work.
Two. He hadn’t gone to work.
Three. He’d met Logan outside the stadium and they’d left together.
Everything beyond that was speculation and shadows, and the shadows were driving her insane.
Why wouldn’t Corbett tell her that he knew Logan? He’d been required to disclose familiarity threats when the partners had vetted Strike. Any pre-existing friendship or relationship had to be evaluated, just as she’d disclosed her one-night stand with Gregg Abbott. That thought stopped Nora in the middle of her pacing. Were Corbett and Logan having an affair? Had she seen a lover’s quarrel in the alley? It seemed ridiculous, but why else would he hide the association and risk his standing and credentials? The possibility made Nora’s jaw clench. He’d acted so outraged when she’d explained the nature of her own marriage. And he had monogamous Katie along with a herd of children looking up to him, and … and it was Logan.
The feelings that had swamped her in the vStrike booth doubled into something darker and less controlled. She took deep breaths, reminding herself that she didn’t know the context of what she’d seen. She didn’t know anything right now.
“I’m sure he’s fine. Whoever you saw in that alley got up and left, right?”
“You’re not helping, Mike.”
He rolled up to a sitting position and watched her with growing fascination. “You’re really upset about this.”
“I just saw Corbett being assaulted.” She threw her arms wide, then qualified, “I think.”
“It’s not just that, though.” He tracked her as she paced, and slowly a grin tipped up the corners of his mouth. “Well, what do you know?”
“What?” she bit out, even though she couldn’t care less what Mike knew right now.
“Someone’s gotten to you.”
She stopped pacing and stared at her husband. The walls she’d built, her independence, her isolation, all of it was threatening to collapse. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Mike leaned forward and pointed to the phone she still gripped in one hand.
“He doesn’t tell you everything. Do you tell him everything?” And then, after a pause in which his smile faded. “Do you tell anyone everything?”
Nora spun to the closet and pulled out workout clothes and her old running shoes.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to think.”
“Funny, because it looks like you’re running away.”
Her head shot up from her laces. Mike sat in his rumpled T-shirt and nest of covers, watching her