“Damn straight.” His expression sobered. “How’d it go?”

Anna’s tear-streaked face flashed in my mind. “They’re fighting dirty.” I suspected they would but seeing it firsthand was another thing altogether. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Name it.”

“Ask Dante to look into the ex, Derek. He’s pulling shit, even now. That says he holds a grudge. Not sure why since he’s the one who screwed Anna over, but something isn’t sitting right. Might be as simple as the parents paying him for his testimony, but we need to know.”

Cain immediately pulled out his phone and began texting his private investigator. “The little I know Dante’s turned up about this guy isn’t good. He’s mixed up with some bad people. It doesn’t make sense that he’d want to involve himself in a legal case. Any attention would be bad attention in his book.”

“I doubt he’s going to be involved. He gave a sworn statement that will be submitted into evidence. But we need all the ammunition we can get against him. That statement needs to be thrown out on day one.”

Cain clapped me on the shoulder. “If there’s something to find, he’ll find it.”

I wanted Cain’s assurances to put me at ease, but there was no such luck. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take a full breath until that judge’s gavel landed, and the Foleys were gone.

18

ANNA

“Banana or strawberries on your cereal?” I asked Justin and Lyla as they slid onto stools at the island.

Justin wrinkled his nose. “Neither?”

“It’s the tradeoff for eighty-two burgers, a dozen fries, and at least five milkshakes.”

He grinned. “Slug day is the best.”

Lyla nodded, taking a sip of her juice. “I want to have slug day every day.”

I opted for banana, slicing it and dividing it between the two bowls of Cheerios. “Pretty sure you’d get sick if that happened.”

“Nuh-uh,” she argued. “I’ve got a steel stomach, Mom says.”

Lyla froze at her slip of Mom. I kept right on completing my task. I’d been worried that neither Lyla nor Justin had talked about Chelsea much, and I wasn’t sure if I should push or let them go at their own pace. I pulled milk from the fridge. “Did you know your mom always used to get sick on rollercoasters?”

Every year, our elementary school’s upper grades took an end-of-year trip to a local amusement park. And every year, Chelsea thought she could handle the big coaster with its massive drop and upside-down loop. She always tossed her cookies right after, and then we’d spend the rest of the day sipping Sprite and walking around. Everything in me hurt at the memory. But it was a good kind of hurt, the kind that reminded a person of just how many memories they had to pull from.