“Would you say it was the hardest thing you’d ever dealt with?”
“It was the only tragedy I’d ever experienced firsthand. When my grandma passed away, I was twelve and she’d been in a nursing home my whole life. It was hard on me, but I’d always known it was coming. My dad wasn’t even fifty years old.” She paused, wiping her tears away. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever dealt with, to this day. I wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.”
Shayna nodded, waiting for the tears to stop falling before she pressed on. There was something about Rachael, something oddly comforting. Even as an accused felon, Shayna just felt sorry for her. Rachael was the kind of person who you couldn’t say no to, couldn’t stop listening to her stories. She was addictive, enthralling.
“So who did you turn to, to grieve? Was that Caide?”
“Sort of. Once I got back to school, it was hard to talk to him, hard to talk to anyone really. Caide was great though. He’d listen when I could talk. There were some days when he’d just hold me and let me cry until I fell asleep. He was comforting, like he’d been doing it all his life. He’d rub my head and rock me while I just fell apart. It was what I needed at the time. Then something changed. He became distant. We stopped talking, stopped going out as much. I think maybe it was all just too much for him. I couldn’t blame him, honestly.”
“Did you feel the need to turn to any substances to help with the pain? Drugs or alcohol?”
“I was a twenty-three year old college kid. Half of my diet was already alcohol.” She snorted loudly. “But yeah for a few months after he died, I drank a lot.”
“Define a lot.”
“Most days it was all day, every day. Between going through his things and dealing with his bills and accounts and cancelling his subscriptions—it was all just too much. Alcohol helped me. It wasn’t an addiction or anything—I could never get used to the taste. It was a Band-Aid, and at that point I desperately needed a Band-Aid. When Audrey found out what was going on she convinced me to stop.”
“Audrey seems like a good friend. She really worries about you.”
“We worry about each other.” Rachael nodded. “Our families were close. Her dad worked with mine. Growing up together, we learned to take care of each other.”
“Now, you mentioned that your relationship with Caide sort of fell out after your father’s death. What happened to fix it?”
Rachael was silent, a hint of something on her face. Shayna studied her for a moment before recognizing it: embarrassment.
“Rachael?”
“Brinley happened. Our daughter. She was the duct tape on our relationship, anyway. It was never really fixed, just sort of held together. After my dad passed, even once I was back in school and sober I wasn’t responsible. I was thoughtless, basically a zombie. When Caide started pulling away it brought me back to reality. By the time I realized I was nearly three months late, the morning sickness had already set in. I bought a million tests, but they all confirmed what I knew. I called Caide that night. We hadn’t slept together in months, hadn’t even seen each other in weeks, so when I told him I was pregnant I expected some shock. I figured he may even demand a paternity test, I thought he’d run.”
“But he didn’t,” Shayna confirmed.
“No. He freaked out a bit, I mean, we were young, and he had a future mapped out that didn’t involve me or our child. A baby was never in the plan for him. But instead of running, he just asked me to marry him. Just like that, like he was asking me to dinner. I had to say yes. I was so scared and I had this whole new little life to worry about and take care of. It was terrifying. So we did the one thing that made sense. We got married that fall, moved home to La Rue, into my dad’s house, and pretended it was all part of the plan. Brinley came after a few months and we got to play this happy couple down the street with a beautiful baby girl. We were a family and I thought maybe, just maybe that would be enough. I thought maybe saying it daily, playing the part maybe it’d make it so.”
“So did it?”
“At first, maybe. After we were married, Caide’s parents disowned him. They wrote him out of their wills and never spoke to him again. They’ve never even met their own grandchildren. So, I think in the beginning he felt the sense of loneliness that I’d been feeling for months since my dad. The selfish part of me was happy about that. I mean, I could see how much he was hurting but in my mind, I just felt so relieved. Like now, we were all each other had. I was happy to see him suffer.” Rachael stopped, staring at nothing in particular. Shayna sensed that maybe that was the first time Rachael had admitted that to herself. “Misery loves company, I guess.” She sighed.
“So then what?”
“So then we found a routine, started going through the motions. The first few years were really rough. With Caide’s plans to run Abbott Jewelers out the window, we were both freshly out of school with no jobs lined up. I took a job waitressing downtown. Luckily, my dad’s house was already paid for and even after buying my studio I still had a little bit of money left over from the insurance. We survived on that.”
“That must’ve been hard for Caide, coming from a wealthy family to barely scraping by. How did he handle it?”
“Caide’s prideful. He grew up in a family where image is everything. Waiting tables or bartending, to Caide that would’ve been like begging on the street. He would’ve rather starved than let the world see him taking a job like that. He wanted it to seem like we had it all together at all times. The insurance money lasted us a little while, but after Brinley was born it began to go a lot quicker. When Brinley was a few months old, after Caide had had dozens of bad interviews, we finally got a call. Two of Caide’s family’s closest friends wanted to hire him as an executive assistant for a law firm that they were starting. The salary was great. It meant I wouldn’t have to go back to work and we could finally give our daughter a good life, a life I’d longed for and that Caide had taken for granted. After he’d been there for a while, I was finally able to really work on building up my studio. One or two classes a week started filling up, and within a few years I had a waiting list two pages long. Everything started falling into place. We just forgot about our past and pretended, even to ourselves, that we’d had some fairytale love rather than a marriage of convenience.”
Shayna smiled, glancing at her watch. “Well, that’s great work, Rachael. We’ve made progress. I finally feel like I understand a little more about you. Unfortunately, our time is up for today so I have to cut you off. We’ll pick up right here tomorrow, though.”
Rachael looked at the clock on the wall, her mood visibly depleting. “Oh. I didn’t realize how quickly time had gone by.”
“We’ve covered a lot of ground today. I want you to know that I appreciate you opening up to me. It’s really important that you’re honest with me. Most clients aren’t so eager to dive right in. It really makes a difference in our progress.”
“I just want this to be settled. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, anything that will help me. Consider me an open book. I just want to go home. I just want to kiss my kids and complain about my laundry. I just want this all to be over.”
Shayna smiled, reaching to the arm of the couch where Rachael’s hand rested. “We’re going to do everything we possibly can for you, Hampton and I. We want to help you. We want you to walk out of that jail and never look back.” She rubbed her thumb over the back of Rachael’s hand, comforting her. “Let me go check and see if Hampton is here.”
Shayna stood up, walking toward the door. The psychiatrist in her couldn’t help but notice how Rachael’s cheeks had flushed at the mention of Hampton’s name. She’d be willing to bet too, had her hand been still enough to catch her pulse it would’ve been accelerated.
Well, well Mrs. Abbott, maybe there are a few things you haven’t told me.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Hampton
Hampton pulled up to Shayna Steele’s office. He looked in his rearview mirror, adj
usting a stray hair and got out of the car. As he walked into her lobby, the cheerful red headed secretary jolted up. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hampton.”
Why am I so terrible with names? He glanced around quickly, finally laying his eyes on a black and white name plate at the corner of her desk.
“Good afternoon, Kortnee, I hope you’re doing well.”
“I am, thank you, sir.” She smiled at him genuinely.
“They nearly finished?”
She glanced at the clock. “Should be any minute now.”
Hampton nodded and sat down on the large gray chair in the corner of the room. Shayna Steele’s office is a teen girl’s dream, he thought to himself. There were pink and gray couches surrounding a fuzzy white throw rug. Hampton supposed it could be comforting to some, but it just made his skin crawl. The office door swung open and Shayna popped her head out, meeting Hampton’s eyes. Her sly smile told Hampton she had a secret to share.
Standing up to face her, he smiled back.
“Hampton. Right on time. We nearly ran over today.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind that.” He smirked, trying to spy Rachael through the space between Shayna and the door. She, noticing his actions, pulled the door shut and walked toward him.
“We’ve been making quite a bit of progress. She’s very cooperative.”
“What does that mean? Do you think you have something? Something to help?”
Shayna grinned, shaking her head. “Hampton, you give me too much credit. I’m good, but I’m not that good. It’s only been a few sessions.”
“Right, of course.” He felt a tiny bit of hope deflate.
“Oh, don’t look so upset. I know how important it is for you to help Rachael. I just wanted you to know how hard she’s working.” Shayna’s eyes twinkled in delight.
What do you know that I don’t?
“That’s great. Be glad. When I met her she was stubborn as hell. I warmed her up for you.” He smirked, recalling their first encounter.
***
Shayna
“I’ll take your word for it. That’s nothing like the girl in my session now.” Shayna backed up a step, grabbing the door handle behind her and pushing it open.
“Rachael,” she called, “we’re ready for you.”
Rachael stood up off of the pink couch, making her way toward the door. Shayna turned to Hampton. She knew the exact moment Rachael was in his eyesight before she could even hear her footsteps approaching.
Dilated pupils, hands adjusting his jacket, touching his arms. Shayna took into account every action Hampton took until Rachael stood in front of him. She couldn’t help but feel delight. My, oh my, you two. Things just became a whole lot more interesting.
***
Hampton
Even in the faded gray sweatshirt and black sweat pants she’d worn from the jail, Rachael still looked better each day. The color was coming back to her cheeks and her eyes, once a dull sallow green, were beginning to brighten up. As she approached him, he couldn’t help but smile at her. She smiled back.
“Hey,” Hampton said.
“Hey,” she replied, her eyes locked on his.
“You ready?”
She gazed down. “Do I have a choice?”
“We’ll be back tomorrow. Thanks again, Shayna.” He nodded toward Shayna, whose ear-to-ear grin was beginning to alarm him.
He placed his arm on Rachael’s back and led her outside to the car. As they walked across the parking lot, their feet crunching loudly on the gravel, he released his arm from her back.
“So, Shayna tells me it’s going well. I’m glad to hear it.”
“She told you that? What did she say?” she asked anxiously.
“That it’s going well. What do you mean?”
“What tone did she use?”
“She was happy…” Women are so confusing. “I don’t really know. She just said that you’re being cooperative. Why?”
“I just can’t tell how it’s going. She doesn’t tell me anything at all. She just asked me questions—questions that aren’t even about the trial, just about me. About me and Caide, me and my dad, me and Audrey. She’s making me dig up the darkest, most traumatic events of my life and talk about them. I’m doing whatever she asks, talking about things I never talk about, things I’ve never told anyone. All the while, she isn’t telling me if I’m passing or failing this little test. In fact, she just isn’t telling me anything.”
Hampton didn’t think Rachael could possibly have an issue with talking. Once you got her going the woman never shut up. He, however, didn’t think it’d be wise to point this out.
“Well, look, she obviously knows what she’s doing. Just give her some time to work. I’m sure whatever she’s asking you about is relevant to her tests. Just keep talking.”
Rachael smiled halfheartedly.
He smirked at her. “She also said you weren’t being stubborn. Is that something you only reserve for me?”
She crossed her arms. “I’m not stubborn.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Right. Okay. I must be thinking of some other Rachael Abbott who yelled at me the day we met.”
She shoved him playfully. “Hush. You come in all Mr. Hot Shot ‘I’m a lawyer, bow down to me.’ I had every right to be stubborn.”
He opened her door for her, before climbing into the car himself. “You’re right. I may have come in with an attitude problem. This job can give you a big head sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” She laughed.
“It just makes you sort of indifferent to your clients. It wasn’t anything to do with you. It was just a job. I didn’t really care that much, in the beginning,” he said seriously.
“But you feel differently now?” she asked, sensing his tone.
“Yes, now it’s different.”
“What changed?”
Hampton pressed his lips together, not entirely comfortable with where this conversation might end up. “I don’t know. I guess, I never really looked at you in the beginning. I took this job because it paid well, and because frankly, it was an ego boost to be hired by my competition.”
“That’s still why you’re working this job?” She looked hurt.
He pulled his seatbelt on, pulling out of the parking lot carefully. “Not at all. Do you remember the day I told you about my wife? That was the first day I ever really saw you. I mean really, really saw you. I looked past the job and actually tried to understand how you could turn down what I believed to be a great option. I’ll never forget how you looked that day. You were so broken, so confused. Your face, it just broke my heart. I’d never seen anything like it. The people I usually represent they’re just angry, maybe scared, but always angry. I win those cases. That’s what I’m used to. Your case, Rachael, your case is the hardest I’ve ever dealt with and instead of being angry, you just looked empty. It made me remember the days after Diedra left. Right then, I knew this wouldn’t be just another case to me. I couldn’t look at it, or you, the same way after that day.”
“Why are you so nice to me?”
“You deserve to have people being nice to you.”
She pulled her feet up into the seat, crossing them underneath her like a child. “Do you want to know the hardest thing about being in jail? My whole life people have been kind to me, courteous. Growing up in the South you just learn to expect it. In jail, no one treats you like a person. They say whatever they want, look at you however they want, and it’s just accepted. That’s been the hardest part for me: not the separation, not being a prisoner, but having people being completely and mercilessly rude to me. That’s why I appreciate you so much. You’re different. You treat me like a person.”
Hampton patted her arm. “You are a person, Rachael. That’s the only way I’ll ever see you.”
Rachael placed her opposite hand over his. She smiled at him, a smile so wide and genuine it was impossible to believe this woman had ever felt heartache. In that moment, that small careless
moment of pure honesty, Hampton realized he was breaking his one and only rule. It was then, staring at Rachael: dressed in a sweat suit at least two sizes too big, her eyes dark from lack of sleep, and her hair pinned back, Hampton realized he was falling in love with his client. He admitted to himself that he probably had been for some time.
It’s a beautiful thing to fall in love with someone in their most unlovable moments, to hold them at their sickest, or to support them at their weakest; but to fall for someone during a brutally honest, completely simple moment such as this was breathtaking. There is nothing more lovely that seeing someone in an honest moment: their houses unkempt, mascara stained tears on their cheeks, laughing so hard they are no longer making sounds, so drunk they can only be unnecessarily truthful, so in love that nothing else matters, or so broken they stop knowing how to live. These moments are rare and fleeting, to love someone despite of them is a beautiful thing, but to love someone because of them…there’s nothing so intense.
Hampton rubbed his thumb along the bones in Rachael’s hand. He felt her eyes on him, taking him in. Heat rushed to his face as he stared ahead, hoping his feelings weren’t written on his face. It had been so long since he’d felt the way he felt then. He’d felt lust since losing Deidra, but never the pulse in his face as it grew hotter and hotter or the rush of giddiness in his chest as he tried desperately to look nonchalant.
Quickly, possibly even rudely, he pulled his hand back. Rachael is married. Rachael is on trial for murder. Rachael is your client. Rachael is off limits. He repeated the mantra in his head.
If It Walks Like A Killer (The Carolina Killer Files #1) Page 17
