The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

Sonya gripped his free hand. “God, Trey, did he hurt her, the kids?”

“No. Her mother and sister had already packed up some of her stuff and taken her back with them. But he got drunk, punched his friend, stole his truck, and went to Marlo’s. She still has furniture, some clothes, things, toys—stuff she was going to have shipped or sold when she’s in better shape.”

He took another pull of beer before setting the bottle down with a snap.

“He broke in the door, busted windows, trashed furniture, smashed toys they hadn’t taken with them, ripped what clothes she left, or just heaved them around. Goddamn it, he pissed on her bed. He’s got both hands in casts now, breaking bones when he smashed his fists into walls.”

“Too drunk to feel the pain,” Sonya murmured.

“Yeah. And for what? For fucking what? If Marlo and the kids had been there—”

“But they weren’t.” Her tone might’ve sounded calmer than she felt, but Sonya cut him off. “They weren’t there because you helpedget them away. You did everything you could as her lawyer to keep them safe. So they’re safe.”

“If he hadn’t been too drunk to think of it, he might’ve headed toward her family home.”

“Or come after you. You helped her get the divorce, then you helped her and the kids get away.”

“Too much of a coward. Sorry,” Cleo said quickly.

“Don’t be, because you’re right. She’s right, Trey. You wouldn’t be half as mad if he’d come after you, but it’s easier to go after a woman and a couple of kids than you. You’ve got every reason to be mad, but here’s the thing. Now I can be mad along with you.”

She looked at Cleo. “We can be mad along with you. What happens to him now?”

“His parents lose the bail money, and maybe their house. I can’t care about that. I get you want to do everything you can for your kids, but he’s a grown man, an alcoholic, a man who put his ex-wife in the hospital, who hurt his own kids—their grandkids.”

“So you’re pissed off there, too, because they didn’t do what was best for him, or for the mother of their grandchildren, or for their grandchildren. They didn’t do what was right.”

“And now they forfeit the bail, and he’s facing more charges. They’d have had the plea deal sewn up in a matter of days, but the parents pressured him and his legal counsel to push for bail first. Stupid. More than stupid—dangerous.”

As the hot edge of anger cooled, he finally sat. “With a guilty plea, his cooperation in giving Marlo full custody, not fighting her taking the kids out of state, they’d probably have knocked it down to fifteen. Now? He could do twice that.”

Trey shook his head. “Add the additional assault, stealing the truck, the B and E, the destruction of property, he will do twice that.”

“Are you actually sitting there asking yourself what you could’ve done to prevent this?”

Mookie came over, laid his head on Trey’s knee. Trey reached down to stroke. “Maybe. Yes. Some.”

“Did you, as her legal counsel, look out for the best interests of your client?”

“I did. I can know that and still wish I’d found some way, or anticipated his level of anger. Last night was bad. And today, going through her place, seeing the extent of the damage, the rage that fueled it, brought it all back.

“I could see where the son of a bitch hurled his own kids’ toys against the wall, or stomped on them.”

“I don’t feel sorry for him,” Sonya said carefully. “I can say while his addiction is at least part of the reason, it’s not an excuse. And I can say I imagine part of what fueled that rage is grief. He’s lost everything.”

“So he gets drunk and blames her. Anyway, we got most of the wreck cleaned up.”

“‘We’?”

“I was working on it when my mother showed up. I didn’t want her in there. And I know what you’d say to that, so don’t bother.”

“I’ll just think it then. Cleo and I will both think it.”

“And Pye,” Cleo added as she coated cod fillets, “since she’s also female.”

“I could use a slight break on those thoughts, as my mom, then Owen shows up, then the next-door neighbors. Anyway, it’s mostly dealt with. And my mom—Owen’s right, the born organizer—she’s gone down some list in her head. She’s got Sadie on shipping what we boxed up for Marlo and the kids, and has a group of women to run a yard sale on what we salvaged.”

“When?”