The man took a step forward. “It is our business. We’re investigating a homicide.”
“What? Homicide?” All the air in Brittlynn’s lungs froze. Homicide? Oh, shit. “And you think Chad is involved?”
“That’s why we’d like to talk to him.”
“Well, you’re too late. He’s gone.” The tall cop—what was his name? Cole or something? He looked at the fire and his frown grew darker. Oh, crap, he probably thought she was destroying evidence or something. She could be in trouble. Big trouble. They were investigating a murder for God’s sake.” Brittlynn’s stomach twisted and despite the freezing temperatures, she began to sweat.
“Are those Chad’s things?” he asked.
Oh, God, she’d fucked up. “Some of them.”
The woman cop opened up her phone, made a call and turned away, keeping her voice low, probably checking to see if Brittlynn could be arrested. She swallowed against a desert-dry throat.
“He has a cell phone?”
Brittlynn nodded and felt as if a noose had been strung around her neck. “He . . . he did. But he left it.” She let her eyes slide to the fire, where Chad’s possessions were charred and burning, cell phone included. “It’s there—” She hitched her chin to the burning mass.
The detectives shared a look and the woman turned away, pulled a cell phone from the pocket of her jacket, punched in a number and turned away, speaking softly into the phone. That didn’t look good. Not at all.
Suddenly desperate and thinking fast, Brittlynn said, “If there are any of those laws that Chad told me about that, like, I can’t testify against my husband or whatever, then it’s not a problem cuz I’m getting a divorce.”
“That’s not an issue,” the tall man assured her.
“Okay,” she said, sizing up the situation. The cops didn’t look stupid, and the man—Cole or Thomas or whoever—was studying the fire, his eyes focused on the contents going up in flames. Oh, God, they probably thought she was involved in some way no matter what she told them. Crap! She had to remind herself these people weren’t her friends. She couldn’t trust them. As the woman slid her phone into her pocket, Brittlynn began to panic. She could be arrested. Right? Swallowing hard, she forced herself to stay cool, despite the sudden jackhammering of her heart. She’d seen enough episodes of Law & Order to know her rights. “Okay, I’ll answer your questions, but I want an attorney.”
She was not going jail for anything Chad had done. Nowhere in those hastily written wedding vows had she ever stated, I promise to love you, to respect you and oh, by the way, I promise to lie for you, to take the fall for you, to go to damned prison for you. Nu-uh, that was not happening.
“No problem,” the man said, though the woman’s lips pursed almost imperceptibly.
“And,” Brittlynn added, pressing her advantage. “I want a deal. Okay? And make sure it’s a good deal. For what I’m going to tell you? It better be damned good.”
CHAPTER 30
“I think,” Kara said, hating the admission as she stared out the window of Tate’s condominium, watching the river winding upon itself at the point, then flowing past the town, “I want to go back to the cabin.” Her blood rushed in her ears as images of that horrid night spiraled through her brain and the knot in her gut twisted almost painfully.
Tate looked up from his notes. He was sitting at his desk, the dog at his feet, the TV turned to some twenty-four-hour news channel. They spent most of the day discussing the past and present, how it all tied together. She’d gone over the police interview and they’d talked about Merritt Margrove’s death, Jonas’s release from prison, Marlie’s existence and how it was all connected. With only a break for sandwiches and to walk the dog, she’d finally come to the conclusion that she would never have all the answers she needed, never have a chance to fill the holes in her memory or be able to put the past to rest until she faced it head on. She’d decided to trust Tate, to confide in him.
“I thought you wanted to avoid that place,” he said.
“I do. I mean, I did.” But maybe twenty years is long enough.” She offered him a frail smile. She knew she couldn’t just stay here forever, hiding out at Tate’s place with the dog, feeling safe, but pretending that it—the horror of the past—didn’t exist. She glanced back through the window again, away from the river to the town stretched upon its shores and the people on the street, hurrying through the snow, huddled against the weather, bundled in jackets in coats while cars eased past the building to stop at the cross street, headlights and taillights. All the people out there living their lives, not caged by their own paranoia.