Insane and unacceptable bullshit. Russell’s call came on the heels of her dealing with Mrs. Estavarez’s uncontrollable grief. Valerie had felt helpless enough with that, now this. No, not helpless. Pissed. This she could handle. Russell had the perfect alibi—her. His lover and now his attorney. She smoothed her hair into a slick twist, selected her no-nonsense navy-blue skirt with white silk blouse, stabbed her feet into don’t-fuck-with-me heels and tore out of the house. Her stomach churned more with every mile she put behind her. The scone and coffee hadn’t settled well with all the turmoil. She tapped the Bluetooth in her ear to call Casey. Still no answer. At least someone knew how to turn off their phone on a Sunday. Lesson learned. She left another voice mail and ordered herself to be patient, when she was anything but. If she’d gone with Russell to his house, he wouldn’t be behind bars now. What the hell could they have on him that would make them jump to a ridiculous conclusion of murder?
