The Fixer

by HelenKay Dimon

  “I wasn’t there.”

  “You’re covering your tracks.” She didn’t hold back. She hit him with every bit of disdain in her body. Let it drip from her voice.

  “Fucking shut up.”

  Wren held up his free hand. “Settle down.”

  “I will not be talked to like this in my home.” Her father reached into his bag and grabbed something before letting the bag drop. The handle cracked against the floor, but he kept talking. “I built this life. I groomed you.”

  The something came into focus. A gun. She knew he’d taken lessons and had one locked in the safe upstairs . . . or that’s where it should have been. The idea of him carrying it around made her sick.

  “A gun?” Her breath rushed out of her on a panicked gasp.

  It shook in his hand. He aimed it at her then at Wren. “She was trash, just like her drunk mother.”

  Emery’s world fell apart in front of her. The commanding man with a lecturing skill everyone talked about, the man she knew, vanished. This one, frenzied and filled with fury, sputtered and listed to one side.

  Now she knew why. The last bit of hope for a misunderstanding died inside her. “Oh, my God.”

  “She wouldn’t listen. And you.” He was pleading now. Did it right until he pointed the gun at her again.

  Wren stepped in front of her. Reached behind him and kept her waist in a bruising hold so she couldn’t move.

  “No!” She could not lose Wren. Not like this. She clawed at him. Kicked.

  “You can shoot me.” He held up his free hand as if trying to placate her father.

  She grabbed fistfuls of his jacket and tugged. Yanked with all her might. “Levi!”

  He didn’t budge. “Do it and my men who are right outside will rush in here and kill you. I promise you that.”

  She dropped her forehead on his back and begged. “You can’t do this. Please stop.”

  “Your house will become a bloodbath, and you will doom Emery to witnessing it. We’ll be gone.” Wren pointed from him to her father. “That will be your legacy to her. That nightmare.”

  Wren kept inching closer to her father. She tried to shove him aside. When that didn’t work, the desperation to get through to the man who never heard her crushed her. “Dad, listen to him. Please.”

  “You can make this right, Michael.” Wren kept up the placating tone. His soothing voice floated through the strangling tension in the room.

  “You don’t understand.” He father shook his head. “Tiffany . . .” He visibly swallowed as his voice trailed off. “I told her to stay away from you and she laughed at me. That stupid little girl fucking laughed at me. Told me how you wanted to meet Tyler at night and she’d help you break out and away from me.”

  Wren nodded. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing.” Her father’s eyes were wild. The hand with the gun lowered, but he didn’t drop it. A haze seemed to cloud his vision as he stared blankly, as if lost in the memory. “She came at me and I pushed her. That’s all.”

  “But she fell, right?” Wren took another step.

  “I shook her and her head whipped back. She barely hit the pavement . . . it didn’t make any sense.” The gun pointed at the floor now.

  The horror of the crime scene photos hit Emery. She’d forced herself to look at them and then could never erase them from her mind. “The blood at the scene.”

  “What did you do with her, Michael?” Wren reached out, slow and steady, and put his hand on the gun. “Tell me.”

  She held her breath. When her father didn’t fight, she let it out again. A flash, some movement by the door, caught her eye. Then she saw the lights from the police car outside.

  The cavalry had arrived. Wren likely brought it with him.

  Her father looked smaller now. He curled in on himself. “I threw her away. Took her to the school. There’s a furnace with this conveyor belt.”

  “Okay, Michael.” Rick moved up behind her dad. Put his hands on the other man’s shoulders and nodded to Wren.

  Her father shook his head. “Detective Cryer?”

  “He killed her.” It was all she could say as she watched Wren slip the gun out of her father’s fingers.

  She repeated it. The words echoed in her head as the police officers streamed in. She heard their radios and the shouting. People talked and the sound of the police sirens finally registered in her brain. Detective Cryer restrained her father and someone read him his rights.

  Wren was there, holding her up. “I won’t ask if you’re okay.”

  She said the first thing that came into her head. “I’m never going to be okay again.”

  An hour passed. Law enforcement officials filed in and out but still filled the room. There was a forensic team on-site now and police officers walking around. Some took photos and others searched the house. Emery just sat there on the coffee table and stared at the floor.

  Wren ached for her. He was willing to do anything to ease her pain. He’d called in Caroline, thinking Emery needed a friend now. Garrett came over. She didn’t acknowledge any of them or any of the people walking around or the news vans collecting on the street outside.

  He wanted to go to her. Hold her. Say whatever she needed to hear to wipe the sharpness of the pain away. But he knew it didn’t work like that. She’d mourn and fight off bouts of fury that she thought might destroy her. Guilt like she’d never known would cripple her.

  He’d been there. He knew the steps and each one brought a new round of doubt and confusion. Why hadn’t she known? Why did it take this long? Did she know her father at all? Those were just some of the questions that would bombard her brain, but there would be other issues. Debilitating loneliness. So much pain.

  Someone wrapped a blanket around her as she sat there with Rick by her side. He had a hand on her back and was whispering something to her. Something Wren couldn’t hear. Likely words of comfort.

  Wren thought about leaving, going outside and getting some air. He took one step when Garrett’s hand landed on his shoulder.

  “You okay?” Gone was his usual amusement and ability to make a joke out of anything. The strain of the moment showed on his face.

  Wren figured he wore a similar expression. But the truth was what he felt didn’t matter. “No.”

  “I hear you tried to get yourself shot today.”

  “Better me than her.” He would have taken the bullets and fought off her father. Whatever it took to keep her safe.

  Garrett glanced at Emery and exhaled. “Go tell her.”

  “What the hell do I say?” There wasn’t a card for this. No words could make this better. And he was not the one she turned to for comfort. Not after last night.

  “That you love her.” Garrett shook his head. “Damn, man. You should see your face. You look . . . I don’t know, broken, maybe?”

  Wren didn’t feel anything. “I’m the one who delivered the news about who her father really was. I’m pretty much the enemy.”

  “He’s the one who did this to Tiffany, to Emery. Not you.”

  It was a logical argument, but Wren knew it wouldn’t work. He started to move again. This time he would go outside . . . but his legs didn’t listen.

  He walked up to Emery and glanced at Rick. “Hey.”

  Rick winced. “I’m not sure this is a great time. She’s—”

  “I know.” Wren crouched down in front of her and watched her wring her hands until she rubbed them red. “You should probably go to the hospital. You could be in shock.”

  She rocked back and forth while those hands kept moving. “I just want to go home and sleep for a week.”

  “To your house.” He didn’t ask it as a question because he knew what she meant.

  Without warning, she stood up. She reached out for him then dropped her hands. “I can’t do this, Wren. Not now.”

  “I know.”

  She shuffled her feet, moving only a bit at a time. “It’s just . . . everything is different.”


  “Not you.” God, he had to believe that. She was so strong. If anyone could survive this, it would be her.

  She looked at him then. The fear was reflected in her eyes and seemed to weigh down her muscles. “Including me.”

  “I’ll get Caroline for you.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  Because he couldn’t just walk away, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. Inhaled the scent he’d never smell again. “You’re going to be fine. It will take time, but you’ll get through”

  “Will I?” She looked desperate to believe him.

  “I promise.” Because he loved her.

  CHAPTER 30

  Eleven days later Emery stood by the desk in the hall outside of Wren’s office. At least she assumed that’s what waited behind the tall double doors. They were closed and she didn’t hear anything coming from inside.

  Garrett stood beside her. “Are you sure about this?”

  He reminded her of Wren. There was something strong and determined about both of them. They filled the space around them with confidence. Acted like they could handle any disaster that found them.

  She used to think of herself as pretty resilient. Not anymore. “Honestly, I don’t know anything right now. I’ve tried not to think too much or make any decisions.”

  Garrett let out a low noise, kind of like a hum. “Are the journalists leaving you alone?”

  “Weirdly enough they’re being somewhat respectful.” That part didn’t make sense to her. At first, she had people camping out on her father’s lawn and her cell kept ringing. Caroline had to bring in volunteers to staff the phones at work.

  Garrett laughed. “Not so weird.”

  The truth hit her. She should have known. “Levi?”

  “Of course.” Garrett glanced at the closed door then back to her. “He has people watching over you. Has called in favors to make sure others leave you alone. He’s basically reordered his life to protect you from afar.”

  Guilt walloped her again. She should be used to the sensation. She’d been called names and more than one news story questioned how much she knew and when. The waves of punishing sadness and pressure of failed responsibility never stopped.

  “I pushed him away.” And that was the hardest thing to deal with because it was such a mistake. Her biggest.

  “He let you do it.” Garrett’s mood sobered. “He thinks he deserves it.”

  Every word stabbed at her. Brought more pain. “Does he know I’m here?”

  “I didn’t tell him you called.”

  For some reason that made her feel worse. “Is he going to be angry?”

  “I’m hoping it’s a fucking wake-up call before he works himself to death.”

  His tone lightened the darkness churning inside her. “Meaning?”

  “He hasn’t stopped for a second, Emery. He misses you and is trying to work the feeling away.”

  So much destruction. “Did he say that?”

  “He didn’t have to. I know him.” Garrett went to the door and wrapped his fingers around the handle. “I hope you stick around long enough for me to get to know you, too.”

  “That depends on him.”

  Garrett smiled. “Then I’ll definitely see you again.”

  Wren heard the door and tried to ignore it, like he’d ignored everything but work and Emery’s safety for the last eleven days. He pushed until he exhausted himself. He went home each night, showered and climbed onto the couch. He didn’t have much interest in his bedroom without her there.

  He didn’t look up. “I said I didn’t want to be bothered.”

  The door clicked shut. “I asked Garrett to make an exception for me.”

  Wren’s head shot up. He looked and blinked and waited for the vision of her to vanish. But she still stood there. “Emery?”

  “You look terrible.” The sadness in her voice mirrored the sadness in her eyes.

  “How are you?” He regretted the words as soon as they were out. “Forget that. I know the answer. I shouldn’t have said—”

  “Levi, let me talk.” She took a step toward his desk then another.

  “Okay.” And he’d take it. No matter what she launched at him, he’d let it happen.

  “The last few days have been a whirlwind, if they have those in hell. My father insists on seeing me, but I’m not ready.”

  “Of course not.” God, it was way too soon. Going there to see that man would be about what he needed and right now she had to concentrate on herself. On making plans and getting through.

  “I told him I’d consider it if he spared us all the heartache and pled guilty.” She let out a long breath. “He’s going to, so long as his attorney can work out some sort of deal.”

  “That’s good news.” But he already knew that. Everyone from the senator to the police to Rick to the prosecutor kept calling to fill him in. So much for the idea of being an island. So many people reached out that he worried he’d need a second alarm system at home just to keep his new friends from stopping by.

  “It’s the least I could do.” She rubbed her hands together. “He killed her because of me.”

  Wren stood up and came around the desk. He was careful not to touch her or get too close. She needed space and he vowed to give it to her. But she couldn’t do this. “Don’t take that on. It’s his sin, not yours.”

  “That’s so easy to say, but . . .”

  He understood what she was saying. Maybe better than anyone. “You need time to process it all. You’ll take it apart in your head and eventually be able to tuck pieces of it away. To heal in your own way. You’ll close the case in your head. Truly mourn Tiffany and the loss of your father. Just not today.”

  “It’s like he’s dead.” There was no emotion in her voice.

  The pain had her rattled and vulnerable. He wished he could ease some, but that’s not how it worked. No one could take it all away. For a few minutes at a time, then later for longer spells, she would shake off all the frustrations and doubts pressing down on her. But it was too early for that.

  “The loss is unimaginable. No one who hasn’t lived through it can understand.” He hated that she would now know.

  She dropped her hands to her sides and looked up at him. “You do.”

  He gave in to the urge to touch her. Giving her plenty of time for her to pull away, he put his hands on her arms near her elbows. “I know life is scrambled right now and nothing makes sense, but I promise you there will be a day when the grief eases. When you feel like you can breathe again.”

  “I can’t imagine that.”

  “Part of what you have to do is let the emotions roll through you. All of them. The guilt, the horror, the anger.”

  She let her head drop back and she stared at the ceiling. “I get shots of each, every hour.”

  “All normal.” He’d grown to hate that word, but he guessed it fit here. “Which I know sounds terrible coming from me.”

  She dropped her head again and looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t do that.” She couldn’t take that on, too. He wouldn’t let her. “What happened was awful, but there was no other way for it to shake out.”

  “Not that.” She lifted her hands and let them rest against his stomach. “I said terrible things to you. I was so afraid you were right and it made me lash out and punish you.”

  The memories rushed back on him, but he kicked them out of his head. He didn’t want to remember those moments when he could hold on to the rest. “The news was shocking. I get that.”

  “Don’t let me off the hook, Levi.” She curled her fingers in his shirt.

  Every word tore into him. He wanted to wipe it all away for her. Save her this. “The circumstances were extraordinary. If you said those things to me because you thought I squeezed the toothpaste container the wrong way, yeah. That would have sucked. But this. It’s understandable.”

  Stress pulled around her mouth and eyes. “Teach me how to do it.”

  “What?”
>
  “Survive this.”

  That’s what she was—a survivor. He knew she could make it through. The rest . . . God, it would kill him to be near her and not touch her, but somehow he’d do it. “I’ll be here for whatever you need.”

  “Don’t leave me.” She stepped in, closing the distance between them. Pleading moved into her voice and showed in her eyes. “I know it’s too early and it doesn’t make sense. Then the emotions get all wrapped up with my father and what happened—”

  “What are you saying?” Hope flickered to life inside him and he rushed to tamp it down. He’d spent days hoping for a call and nights feeling carved out and raw when it didn’t come.

  “I am the worst catch.” She shook her head as her words rushed together. “You should run and keep running, but I’m asking you to give me a chance because I love you.”

  “You . . .” He couldn’t get the words out. Was desperate to believe, but was sure he heard her wrong or misunderstood.

  “Crazy, right?” She smiled. It appeared then was gone. “All I wanted over the last few days was for you to hold me and you weren’t there.”

  That he heard. “I thought you hated me.”

  “Not even close.”

  An alarm went off in his head. His chest ached with the need to rush in, but he knew he should hold back. His job stood in the way. They still had baggage. She needed time . . . And he would have talked about all of those, but the way she looked at him and held on, digging her fingers into his skin, had his brain reordering every priority.

  He had to say it. Even if it was only once, she needed to know. “I love you, too.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You do?”

  He almost asked how she didn’t know until he remembered how he fought it. Denied that it could be possible. Then he lost her and the nights dragged and his life collapsed in on him.

  “Shocked the hell out of me.” His hands slipped up then. He played with the strands of hair lying on her shoulder. Used the other one to caress her back. “It was one of the reasons it was so hard to tell you the truth about your father.”