The Wreck by Marie Force

Granville to reconnect with old friends and
remember good times!” The reunion was set for Fourth of July weekend, beginning
with a cookout at the lake. As Brian studied the flyer, he was swamped with
longing—for his hometown, for the old friends, and the good times that ended
far too abruptly.
    “What’s that?” Saul asked.
    Consumed by memories, Brian had forgotten
his boss was there. “Nothing.” He tossed the flyer into the pile of overdue
bills.
    “All kidding aside,” Saul said, “I want
you to take some time off.” When Brian began to protest, Saul held up a hand to
stop him. “You did an outstanding job with the Gooding trial—masterful, in
fact. But you’ll be no good to the people of this city—or to me—if you don’t
take a break and recharge.”
    “I’ve got nothing else I want to do.”
    “That’s pathetic on so many levels I’m
not even going to list them all. You’re still a young guy, and I imagine the
women don’t find you totally repulsive. There’s got to be someone out there
dying to spend some time with the celebrated attorney who put away that scumbag
Gooding.”
    “There isn’t.”
    “You remind me a lot of myself when I was
your age,” Saul confessed. “I have five kids who went and grew up on me while I
was hiding out in this office.”
    “I’m not hiding out.”
    Saul continued as if Brian hadn’t spoken.
“I hardly ever hear from them, and my ex-wife is now married to my ex-best
friend.”
    The story was well known, but Brian
hadn’t seen the pain before.
    “You’re a good kid, Brian, and a damned
fine prosecutor. I don’t want you to end up old and alone like me.” He stood.
“So no new cases until you take a vacation.”
    “But—”
    “Two weeks. Not one minute in this
office—and I have spies who will report to me if you show your face.
They may like you better, but I’m the boss.” On his way out the door, he added,
“The two weeks start when you leave today.”
    After Saul had walked away, Brian sat
back and fumed. What the hell am I going to do for two weeks if I can’t
work? The idea of filling all that time—and having all that time to
think—left him feeling panicked.
    Reaching for the reunion flyer, he read
it again. The longings had been striking at odd times lately, like in the
middle of a trial that had taken over his life the way nothing else ever had.
Maybe it was the anniversary of the accident causing the melancholy. Whatever
it was, it was starting to get on his nerves. He crumpled up the flyer and
tossed it into the trash.
    At the bottom of the second pile, he
unearthed a crushed Chinese food carton. “Ugh,” he muttered, grossed out by the
smell as he pushed it into the bag. Stuck to the desk calendar under the carton
was the business card of the psychologist who had worked with the Gooding
children to prepare them to testify against their father. The younger of the
two kids, Christian, had been just five years old when he watched his father
stab the life out of his mother.
    Brian pried the card free of the paper
calendar. Thomas Pellingrino, Ph.D., specialized in children who’d been
traumatized by abuse, neglect, and violence. He had worked miracles with
Christian Gooding, who’d been transformed from an uncommunicative child to an
articulate witness under Dr. Pellingrino’s care. As Brian held the card in his
hand, he wondered—and not for the first time—if Dr. Pellingrino might be able
to help Carly.
    Carly .
    He didn’t think about her every day
anymore. To function properly in a job that required his complete attention, he
simply couldn’t allow thoughts of her to occupy his mind. While other memories
from that time in his life had faded somewhat, he remembered her with a
vividness that was almost disturbing. Her scent, the way her curls had wrapped
around his fingers, the smoothness of her skin, her laughter, those soft brown
eyes that could hide nothing from him, and the connection he’d spent half a
lifetime