FRAMED, page 6
Jo smiled, imagining her Doberman sulking by the door as if his favorite human had betrayed him. “Oh, he’ll get over it,” she said lightly before softening her tone. “I just hope you don’t feel abandoned.”
“No,” Kate said after a beat, her voice light and mischievous. “I’m good. But you’ll have to make it up to me extra nicely.”
“Hmm,” Jo murmured, smiling at the image of how she might do that. “Looking forward to it.”
They exchanged goodbyes—sweet and tinged with longing—and Jo set down the phone on the bedside table with a sigh.
She returned to the comfortable chair, and Orange Cat jumped into her lap, uninvited. He rubbed against her chest before settling in with a contented purr.
“Well, Orange Cat,” Jo said in the singsong voice she reserved for animals. She stroked his soft fur, “Are you going to vouch for your mama? That she was in her home office working on her cancer study the morning of the robbery?”
The cat lifted his chin at the sound of her voice and looked up at her. He blinked with wide, inscrutable amber eyes.
“No comment, huh?”
Chapter 11
Friday morning, Brian’s voice crackled through the phone when Tori answered it. Jo came close, straining to hear. “Defense attorneys are not usually informed when a grand jury will hear a client’s case, but a colleague let slip yours may be heard as soon as the end of next week.”
Her eyes darted to Tori, who took a deep breath and looked away, but not before Jo caught the fear in her eyes.
“I’d like you to come into the office Monday morning to get more background information, in case the grand jury decides to indict you,” Brian continued, his lawyer voice all business.
“That’s fine. I’ve taken two weeks of leave from the clinic to deal with this, so whatever time works for you.”
“How about 9 a.m. then? Bring your current bank statements. Will your husband come this time?”
Uh-oh. Jo had witnessed enough of their marital discord to know where this was heading.
“Yes to the bank statements. But my husband won’t be coming. We’re not on good terms.”
Brian was quiet for a moment. “That may be a problem if you are indicted. I should meet with him to determine his suitability as a witness.”
Tori glanced at her friend’s wry expression and sighed. “Okay. I’ll see if he’ll attend the meeting on Monday.”
*
Later that morning, Jo’s fingers hovered over the phone before she reluctantly dialed her office. She asked the receptionist to connect her with David. As she waited, her mind raced. Should I tell him now if he hasn’t already heard the news of Tori’s arrest? Or wait until after the grand jury hears her case?
She sighed, her indecision weighing on her.
“How did your interviews go?” David’s cheerful voice caught her off guard.
Relief washed over her. He hadn’t heard. “They went well. I’ve signed up six plaintiffs,” she said. “Dr. Nelson’s cancer study reveals a clear association between cancer and living near petrochemical plants, as we had anticipated. She has ruled out other factors that account for only part of the excess.”
“I’d expect nothing less than a solid investigation from her,” David said. “Since your meeting at Mary Williams’s house, several more locals have called our office to express interest in joining the lawsuit. People are dying. It sounds quite dire.”
“Oh dear. I’ll have to follow up.” Damn. What if Tori is indicted? It would be disastrous for the plaintiffs’ case if they lost their primary expert. Now was not the time to sign up more people.
Though she knew her timing was off, she took a deep breath and said, “I’d like to take a few personal days.”
“Right now? Just when our case is heating up?” David’s surprise was unmistakable, followed by a pause that stretched Jo’s nerves. “But I guess you’ve earned some days off. But, then I’d like you to drive over to Oilton and talk with those additional folks.”
Jo’s grip tightened on the handset. Tori better not be indicted. No other medical expert could take her place. “I will,” she promised, the words sounding hollow. She had a strong urge to tell him everything, but she swallowed it down. Wait.
“Thank you.”
Tori knocked on the bedroom door.
“One minute,” she called. “Just finishing a phone call.”
“That’s okay. We’re finished for now,” David said smoothly. “Keep me updated.”
She hung up and opened the bedroom door.
“Sorry,” Tori said. “I didn’t realize you were on the phone.”
“It’s fine.” Jo’s tone was clipped. “Good timing. I’d rather not discuss your arrest with my senior partner until after the grand jury decision.”
Tori’s shoulders sagged. “Let’s hope they decide in my favor,” she muttered. “Just before you got on the phone, Rick called. He agreed to meet with the lawyer on Monday.
“Gallant of him,” Jo said. The disdain in her tone wasn’t subtle, and she didn’t care if Tori noticed.
Later, as they tucked into tuna sandwiches, Jo couldn’t shake Rick’s comment, “She’s asking for trouble.” It teased her like a loose thread she couldn’t stop pulling.
“It doesn’t sound like Rick supported your cancer research.”
Tori paused mid-bite, then set her sandwich down carefully, as if it might shatter. “No,” she admitted. “He never asked about my study findings until recently. But he’s always resented the time I spent on it, especially evenings and weekends.”
Jo frowned, leaning forward. “What do you think he meant when he said you were ‘asking for trouble’?”
“I’m not sure.” Tori’s brow furrowed, staring at her plate as though it held answers. “Rick has become so—I don’t know—so conservative lately. Pro-business, anti-regulation, the whole package. My findings indicate that the region’s petrochemical industry is causing harm that will be costly to rectify. Maybe he thinks I should back off, not threaten profits and jobs.”
Jo didn’t blink. “Does he work with the petrochemical industry at all?”
“I don’t know.” Tori’s voice was tinged with exhaustion. “He has been secretive about his work over the past few months. I think he’s embarrassed about his start-up failing and having to take contract IT jobs to make ends meet. He doesn’t want to work for a salary again, but, well, he might not have a choice.”
Jo took another bite of her sandwich, her mind running through possibilities. Could someone in the industry have pressured Rick to discourage Tori from pursuing her study? Or worse, could his bitterness over their impending divorce have driven him to tip off the FBI, claiming that Tori looked like the bank robber? The thought made her stomach churn.
As if reading her thoughts, Tori spoke. “Rick can be an asshole, and he’s furious about the divorce,” she said, “but I don’t think he’d betray me or sabotage my work.”
Jo wasn’t so sure. She sighed and took another bite of her sandwich. Tori had always been blind when it came to Rick—too forgiving, too willing to see something redeemable in him that Jo never could.
After lunch, they moved to the couch with their coffees in hand. Orange Cat sprawled lazily between them. Jo broke the silence first.
“Why did you marry Rick?” she asked bluntly, unable to suppress the question any longer. Orange Cat lifted his head, amber eyes narrowing as if he also wanted an answer. Jo smiled briefly at the cat, then kept her gaze fixed on Tori, waiting for an explanation that might finally make sense—or confirm what Jo had always thought: Rick had never been good enough for her.
“You’ve met my parents,” Tori said.
“Yes. I remember them well.” How could she not? It had been one of those rare moments when she’d glimpsed what a “normal” family looked like, or at least what she imagined one to be. In college, Tori had invited her to spend Christmas at her parents’ home in New Haven, Connecticut. The house was a modest bungalow on a quiet, tree-lined street, exuding comfort and stability. Tori’s parents were older, her father worked for Winchester Repeating Arms, and her mother stayed home to care for Tori and her older brother.
Jo could still smell the chocolate-chip cookies Tori’s mother had baked that day, pulling them from the oven just as the two of them arrived from university. It was such a small thing, but it stayed with Jo. She’d grown up with a single mom who came home late from work, too tired and irritable to fuss over her, let alone bake cookies. Watching Tori’s mom beam as she handed over a plate of warm cookies made Jo’s chest ache with envy. She’d wanted that kind of love, that kind of attention, and for a while, she thought she’d found it with Tori.
But then Rick happened.
Jo shifted uncomfortably on the couch as Tori spoke of him, her voice tinged with regret.
“Rick was different,” Tori said, stroking Orange Cat absentmindedly. “My parents liked him—well, they liked his résumé more than anything. Upper-middle-class family, business and computer science degree, ambitious. My dad thought he was perfect.” She gave a humorless laugh. “He probably thought Rick would keep me in line.”
Jo nodded stiffly, trying to keep her expression neutral. She remembered Rick all too well—how he’d swept into their lives like some golden boy out of a rom-com. He’d once brought Tori roses and had even handed over another bunch for Jo, as if that would make up for how he’d monopolized Tori’s time.
“And you?” Jo asked quietly. “What did you think of him?”
Tori shrugged. “At first? I guess I liked the attention. He came on strong—flowers, gifts, compliments—it was intoxicating in its own way.” She paused, staring into her coffee cup. “But I never experienced that head-over-heels love my girlfriends talked about.”
Jo stared into the middle distance, remembering that head-over-heels feeling. It had started with Tori. She shook herself. This was about Tori, not her.
“What changed?”
Tori sighed and leaned back against the couch as Orange Cat kneaded her thigh. Eventually, she said, “Texas changed everything. When Rick’s company started struggling in Boston, one of his friends convinced him to move here for a job at another computer start-up. My grants were running out at Harvard, so I agreed to come with him.”
Jo tilted her head, surprised. “No urge to stay in academia? You were on track to accomplish great things at Harvard.”
Tori gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I thought so too—for a while,” she admitted. “But academic politics wore me down. And Rick’s salary wasn’t enough to cover the lifestyle he wanted.” Her voice hardened as she added, “So I took on more clinic hours to support us until his Texas start-up took off—which it didn’t.”
Jo glanced around the room, taking in the intricate millwork that framed the high ceilings and the ornate fireplace, which seemed plucked from a grand Victorian estate. “I guess you needed the extra income just to afford this place,” she said.
“Exactly,” Tori replied flatly. “And every time I worked harder to make ends meet, Rick resented me more.” She hesitated before adding, “He didn’t care about my study. In fact, he urged me to drop it.”
Jo frowned. “Did he give a reason?”
“Because they could be potential clients for his start-up,” Tori said bitterly. “He said I was being naive, that those companies provided jobs and boosted the economy.”
Jo couldn’t hide her contempt. “Didn’t you realize your values were completely out of sync?”
Tori looked away for a long moment before answering. “I grew up conservative too—staunchly Catholic parents who voted for Reagan.” Then more quietly, she said, “Maybe I’m the one who has changed.”
Jo gave her a look—one eyebrow lifted—but didn’t ask, “How have you changed?” Instead, she said, “Have you told your parents about your arrest?”
“God, no. They’d flip out. My dad would probably have a heart attack right there on the spot—and then blame me for it.”
Jo registered the raw vulnerability in Tori’s voice. For all her strength and defiance, Tori was utterly alone in this fight.
“Tori,” she said gently, locking eyes with her friend. “I’m with you on this. You’re not alone.”
Chapter 12
The following Monday, Tori sat stiffly in the conference room of Brian’s office, her hands folded tightly in her lap, trying to ignore the dull throb behind her eyes. She and Jo had been here for half an hour, growing more irritated by the minute. When Rick burst in, she frowned, offering only a curt greeting.
“Sorry, I had a meeting that ran over,” Rick announced as he dropped into a chair with the grace of a collapsing bookcase.
His briefcase hit the table with a bang that made Tori jump. She caught Brian exchanging a look with Jo. Tori looked down at the table, focusing on the grain of the wood as if it might anchor her.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Dynoski,” Brian said smoothly, his lawyerly politeness firmly in place. “I’m Brian Kirkland, Dr. Nelson’s legal counsel. We use first names here if that’s okay with you.”
“Fine.” Rick leaned forward for a perfunctory handshake before slumping back in his chair, arms crossed like a petulant teenager.
Brian asked Rick standard introductory questions while Tori’s attention drifted. What did Rick really know about her or her current life? Most of his focus was on himself.
Brian jotted something on his legal pad. “Tori tells me you’ve separated and have your own apartment.” He cocked his head, waiting for confirmation.
Tori’s attention returned.
“That’s right.” Rick uncrossed his arms and bounced one knee.
“But you still see each other from time to time.”
“Yeah.” He fidgeted and looked away. “I keep some of my stuff at the house.”
Tori kept her face neutral, but inside, she bristled. Some of his stuff? Half of their house looked like a storage unit for Rick’s hobbies and failed projects.
“How did Tori seem to you before her arrest?” Brian asked.
Rick shrugged, his knee still bouncing like a jackhammer. “Okay. A little stressed. We didn’t talk much, but that’s not unusual.”
Tori noticed Jo shift in her seat, and guessed they were thinking the same thing: What’s with this guy? Irritated and nervous, but what did he have to be anxious about?
“How did you feel when your wife called you from jail?” Brian pressed.
Rick blew out a breath, impatient, as if this whole discussion were absurd. “Shocked, of course.”
“Did you believe she’d robbed the bank?” Brian’s tone sharpened.
Rick’s manner changed subtly. He avoided Brian’s eye. “I, um, I dunno. Why would they arrest her if she wasn’t a suspect? The FBI doesn’t just randomly arrest people. There’s gotta be a reason.”
He’s avoiding looking at me. Tori clenched her fists under the table, nails digging into her palms.
Brian didn’t let up. “Can you think of any reason for the FBI to consider your wife a suspect?”
Rick hesitated. “Um. I dunno. Before the separation, she was acting weird.”
Tori froze. Jesus, not this. Her heart thudded against her ribs as Brian leaned forward.
“Acting weird? How?” he asked.
Rick glanced at Tori—furtive and quick—before looking away again. “She acted distracted and nervous. When she wasn’t locked in her office working on her cancer study, she was on the phone with friends or out somewhere. She would often come home late. Sometimes she’d fall asleep at the dinner table.” He paused, then added with an edge in his voice, “And the last few weeks, when I’ve talked to her, she seemed, well, wired.”
Tori inwardly cringed. It was true. She had been a mess for the last few weeks. A glance at Jo revealed a tightening around her eyes. Uh-oh.
Brian didn’t miss a beat. “Going out where?” he asked calmly.
“I don’t know,” Rick snapped. “And I don’t care anymore.”
The room went silent except for the creak of Rick’s chair as he shifted and tugged at his tie.
“You seem angry with your wife,” Brian observed.
Rick exploded, his voice rising as he pushed back from the table. “Am I on trial here? How are my feelings relevant? God only knows what Tori has gotten herself into, but it has nothing to do with me! I’m done with this.” He rose, grabbed his briefcase, and strode from the conference room.
Tori froze, staring at the door, shaken by Rick’s display of anger. Jo stared at Tori.
A very faint smile played around Brian’s mouth, his demeanor completely relaxed.
“Well,” he said, breaking the silence with deliberate calm. “I don’t think your husband will make a very good witness.”
He turned to Tori, and his voice softened. “So, is there any truth to what your husband said about your state of mind before the arrest?”
Tori shifted her gaze to Brian but didn’t answer right away. Her throat tightened, and for once, she had no idea what to say or how much she dared to reveal. Her gaze flicked from Brian to Jo and back again as she drew deep breaths. The weight of her secrets pressed against her breast, demanding release—but she could only reveal part of the whole.
“I’ve been unhappy in my marriage for a long time—years, actually,” she admitted, the words tumbling out. “We have little in common, and Rick has never seen the point of my research. Especially my cancer study.”
She felt a familiar frustration rise as she recalled his dismissive comments. He treated her research as a frivolous hobby, something to be tolerated rather than respected.
“He said it required too much unpaid time and effort, and Big Oil would shoot it down, anyway.”
An aching despair spread through her chest as she continued. “I’ve been under so much stress with my study, clinical work, setting up a lab, and the separation. I just wanted some time for myself with no responsibility. I didn’t want to be around him anymore. So I went out in the evenings sometimes and didn’t come home for dinner.”
