Creep - Jennifer Hillier [96]
“But here’s the thing . . .” he said, his voice strangled through his rapid breathing.
“What’s that?” she said, working faster. Come on, come on, let go already.
His hand suddenly gripped her wrist and twisted. The pain was intense, a flash of fire. She had no choice but to let go of the gun with a whimper.
With his other hand, he shoved her off his lap. She fell over, her back slamming into the thick industrial carpet.
“I’ve never trusted you.” Looking down at her naked body, Ethan stood and zipped his pants. “I know now I never will.”
CHAPTER : 32
Morris couldn’t put his finger on it, and that was what was bothering him.
He was a solutions guy. He liked to fix things. He liked to take a problem and, using a combination of research, experience, and good judgment, figure out the best answer, the best plan, the best course of action. He’d had two careers in his life—football and banking—and both relied on well-thought-out strategies and their proper executions. And, of course, great instincts, which he normally had. How could his instincts have been so wrong about Sheila?
He should have been relaxing over SportsCenter, as he usually did after a long day of work, but instead he was going over every event of the past few weeks in his mind, like an instant replay he couldn’t shut off. Every conversation with Sheila, everything they’d talked about, everything they’d done or hadn’t done. But the analysis wasn’t getting him anywhere. He was a fat hamster running on a little wheel.
He was stuck.
With every passing day, the chances seemed to grow slimmer that Sheila would ever turn up. There were no real leads. Jerry Isaac hadn’t said as much, but Morris knew the PI was running out of ideas. There was nobody left to interview.
Sheila had left him, willingly, just as her phone message had said. Why couldn’t he accept that, instead of throwing money at a guy who was probably only too happy to keep looking so long as Morris kept paying?
His beautiful son was the only bright spot at the moment. Randall had swept back into his life, and it appeared that whatever chip had been on his shoulder all these years had finally been knocked off. Morris knew he had Sheila to thank for that. Regardless of the pain and anger and worry she was causing him, he knew he would love her the rest of his life for what she’d done.
He poured another shot of Johnnie Walker and pushed away the guilt that came with every ounce he downed. So far Randall hadn’t mentioned Morris’s drinking, but it was probably par for the course as far as his son was concerned. He’d never known his father sober.
The thought saddened him.
His BlackBerry rang. He stared at it until it stopped. It was after 8:00 p.m. and they could call back tomorrow. Then he heard his home phone. Not a work call, then. He reached over and picked it up.
“It’s Jerry,” a voice said on the other end. “You busy? You didn’t answer your cell.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m on a hot date right now.” Morris’s laugh was bitter. “Got a cute blonde with me. Hang on while I remove her from my lap.” He looked at the bottle of Johnnie Walker Gold, still in his hand. Close enough. “What’s up?”
“I met with Ethan Wolfe today. I meant to call you earlier but my wife wanted to go out to dinner. It’s our weekly date night.”
“Let me guess, you took her to the Golden Monkey.”
“Don’t knock it, man. Best Chinese food in Seattle.”
“Do Chinese people agree with you?”
“Bite me. Do you want to know what happened with Wolfe or not?”
“Let me hear it.”
Jerry cleared his throat. “I definitely think he was the one Sheila was having an affair with.”
“He actually admitted it?” Morris felt a stab even though the news wasn’t surprising. He thought once again about the night they’d met in Sheila’s office. The way Wolfe had taunted her, and she didn’t even bust his balls. It all made sense now. He poured himself another shot of whiskey, wondering if the PI could hear it through the phone line.
“I have a very strong hunch. After thirty years as a cop, that ought to mean