A Wicked Truth (10 page)

He nodded. “All right. Why don't you tell me again about what happened that day?” He gestured towards the recorder. “We'll get it on tape this time.”

I doubted that had anything to do with why he was asking me to repeat the same things I'd already told him a dozen times in a dozen ways. But I did it one more time. I barely even had to think about what I was saying as I went through it all again.

By the time I finished, Detective Reed had returned with his coffee. I didn't even pause when he slumped down in his chair and glared at me, sipping at his drink.

When I finished, Rheingard did his little note-taking thing, and then looked over at Detective Reed.

I could almost hear them saying
tag, you're it
.

“When did you choke your husband?” Reed asked.

I stared at him, mouth hanging open. “When did I what?”

“Choke him,” Reed repeated. He straightened and leaned forward. “Or did you hit him? The medical examiner couldn't get a clear picture of what happened before you managed to get your husband's body removed.”

“What are you talking about?” I wasn't even annoyed with the question because I had no clue what he was talking about. “Allen died because his parachute didn't open.”

“Right,” Reed agreed. His eyes were gleaming. “But the medical examiner made a note of a suspicious-looking bruise on Allen's neck.”

“How could they...I mean, he was...” The words stuck in my throat. I might've been moving on and putting my life together again, but that didn't make it any easier to think about what happened that day. Especially not about how Allen had died.

“Detective.” Rheingard's voice was sharp. He looked over at his partner and then turned back to me. “The medical examiner didn't report a bruise.”

I glared at Detective Reed. It figured the asshole was lying to me again to try to get me to say I'd done something I hadn't done. He'd been trying to get me worked up over the brutality of Allen's death so I'd say something incriminating. I'd known he was a heartless bastard, but that was beyond cold.

Rheingard continued, “We do, however, have a statement from one of the men who worked at the airfield that says Mr. Lockwood had a strange-looking bruise on his neck.”

I gave him a confused look. “I don't understand.”

“Is it possible that something may have happened before you got on the plane? Something that may have caused Mr. Lockwood to pass out?”

I was thoroughly confused now. Were both detectives lying to me about the bruise? Were they trying to trick me into saying that Allen and I'd had some sort of fight before he died? Like that would've given some sort of reason to kill him? Was Rheingard giving me a different sort of lie after calling Reed out because what he did was supposed to make me think he was telling the truth?

“You and Mr. Lockwood didn't have any sort of altercation? An argument that maybe got a little out of hand?” Rheingard pressed.

“No!” I snapped. “If you must know, Allen and I had spent the night before and the morning of the accident having sex. We weren't fighting. We were fucking.”

Rheingard at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed by my blunt wording, but Reed just sat there with that stupid smirk on his face.

And then it hit me and my face flushed.

Shit.

I knew what he was talking about.

“The, um, bruise,” I started. “Was it here?” I pointed to a place on my own neck.

“Yes.” Rheingard nodded.

“Yeah, um...” My ears were burning. “I did do that.”

“So you're admitting that you put a bruise on your husband's throat before you got into the airplane?” Rheingard glanced at his partner. “If it somehow caused Mr. Lockwood to pass out and forget to open his parachute, it wasn't intentional...”

“It wasn't a bruise,” I interrupted. “It was a hickey.”

If I'd known that such a statement would effectively shut them both up for nearly a full minute, I might've said it sooner.

Then Detective Reed opened his mouth and I knew whatever he was going to say would be rude.

“Yes, Detective Reed,” I spoke before he could. “I gave my husband a hickey when we were making love on our anniversary. He gave me one too. I doubt either of them caused my husband's parachute to not open, but I do know my sex life isn't any of your business.”

Another moment of uncomfortable silence followed before Detective Rheingard spoke, “The thing is, your sex life is our business. Especially when it comes to this investigation.”

“What the hell does my sex life have to do with this, other than the fact that it explains the mark on Allen's neck?”

Detective Reed put his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. “You didn't answer our original question, Mrs. Lockwood. How long had you and Dr. Whitehall been having an affair before the two of you decided to kill your husband?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “You know what? I've had enough of this. I came in to answer legitimate questions, but all you keep doing is going over the same stuff I've already answered, and being rude to me.” I stood up. “I'm done here. If you want to speak to me again, call my lawyer. He'll come in with me because I'm tired of this. Good day, detectives.”

Chapter 12

I called Mr. Henley as soon as I came out of the police station. I knew the detectives were furious, and Henley wasn't going to like it either, so I figured it was better that he hear it from me.

I explained things to him as quickly as I could, not wanting to give him a chance to comment until I was done. When I did finally fall silent, his reaction was exactly what I expected.

“Shae.” He gave a heavy sigh. “That was probably not the best thing you could've done.”

“I know,” I admitted. “But I just couldn't take any more of it. All they have is a bunch of suspicions without any proof and they're wasting all their time on questioning me when they should be accepting that Allen did it to himself. There's proof of that right in the letter I gave them.”

“You do know if they rule it a suicide, the insurance company is going to want their money back,” Henley said. “In fact, I'm surprised they released it at all. They usually wait for a ruling, but what's done is done. Even if someone jumped the gun in sending you the check, you won't be allowed to keep it if the detectives officially rule it suicide.”

“I know,” I said. “And I don't care. I just want this to be done so that I can try to have a normal life again.”

“Well, I'll do whatever I can to make that possible.” There was a pause, and then he spoke again, “Are you heading into work now?”

Right. He didn't know.

“Not exactly.”

“Can you come by my office? There are a couple new developments I'd like to discuss.”

That was probably a good thing since I had to explain my suspension. I just hoped what he had to say made up for my plethora of bad news.

***

By the time I was on my way home, I was ready to chalk up the day as a complete loss.

The events at the police station had been awful, making me re-live seeing Allen die, hearing the accusations about Jasper and myself. They made what Jasper and I had into something sordid, the sort of thing the people of St. Helena had been gossiping about. That hurt me almost as much as the rest.

My meeting with Mr. Henley hadn't been much better, and the information he'd given me continued to circle in my mind. It was heading towards late afternoon by the time I pulled into the driveway and I already felt like my brain was going to explode.

I didn't even register that Jasper's car was in the driveway until I opened the door and smelled something wonderful. He was home.

“Jas?” I called his name as I stepped inside.

“Hey, babe.” He stepped out of the kitchen, a smile lighting up his face when he saw me.

“Why aren't you at work?” I asked as he came towards me.

“Left early,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. He bent his head and gave me a brief, but intense kiss. “I thought you might have a rough day, and since I wasn't here last night when you needed me because I was at work, I figured work could take the back seat today.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that it hadn't been work that needed him last night, but rather Georgia. I didn't though. It would've sounded petty because it would've been petty. I didn't like the woman or how she behaved with Jasper, but he was mine, so she wasn't even close to the top of my problems list.

“I'm glad you're here.” I pressed my face against his chest, closing my eyes as I breathed in his scent. “Saying it was a rough day is an understatement.”

“What happened, love?” He ran his hand over my hair.

I shook my head. “What smells so good?” I smiled. “Besides you.”

He chuckled, the rumble a gentle sound in my ear. “I'm making dinner. Roasted chicken with cooked carrots. Fresh Asiago bread from Augustine's Bakery and a blueberry pie ready to go in the oven when the chicken comes out.”

I groaned, mouth watering at the thought of all that wonderful food. “You are amazing.”

“I like to think so.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and used his other hand to take my purse. “We still have some time before the chicken's done. Why don't you go sit on the couch, and I'll bring you something to drink. You want beer or wine?”

I smiled, loving that he asked and didn't assume. “How about a beer before dinner and wine with it?”

He grinned. “Sounds good.”

He headed back into the kitchen while I kicked off my dress shoes and went into the living room. I settled on the couch, pulling my feet up under me as I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the couch.

I felt the couch shift as Jasper sat next to me and I turned my head, opening my eyes to look at him. He held out a bottle of beer and I took it gratefully. As I took a long drink, he reached down to pick up my feet. I shifted with him so that my feet were on his lap. He reached under my skirt to pull down one stocking, then the other, leaving my feet bare.

He didn't ask any questions or even try to make small talk. He just took my foot in his hands and began to work his thumbs against the sole of my foot.

“Fuck,” I breathed. My eyelids fluttered. “That feels amazing.”

He smiled and kept rubbing, his thumbs finding all of the right spots that reached places inside me that touching a foot shouldn't be able to reach. I felt myself beginning to relax. When he started on my other foot, I was okay enough to tell him what had happened at the police station.

He was silent through all of it, only the tension I could sense in his body told me what he was feeling. When I got to the part about Detective Reed asking how long our affair had been going on, he swore softly.

“That was the last straw,” I said. “All of the accusations were awful, but I couldn't stand them acting like we'd done something wrong, like our relationship was something I needed to be ashamed of.”

“What did you say?” he asked as his thumbs moved up to the muscle right under my big toe.

“I told them I was done, and if they wanted to talk to me again, to call my attorney because I wasn't going to put up with their behavior.” I took another drink of my beer. “Then I walked out and called Mr. Henley to tell him what I'd done.”

“What did he have to say?”

I shrugged. “Pretty much what I expected. That what I'd done hadn't been the best idea, but then he asked me to come to his office because he had some new information he wanted to share in person.”

I drained the last of my beer and set the empty bottle on the coffee table. I could feel the edges of everything start to turn fuzzy. It wasn't enough that I forgot about my problems, but the alcohol had definitely helped. That and a glass of wine with dinner and I'd be pleasantly buzzed all night.

“What did Mr. Henley have to tell you?” Jasper asked, his fingers switching from massaging to running over my ankles and the tops of my feet. The touch was light enough to be just this side of ticklish, and it sent shivers of pleasure across my nerves.

“He's convinced that everything the cops have is circumstantial, easily explained away, but that he's seen cases where circumstantial evidence, when put together in a believable story, end up in a conviction.”

“You're innocent,” Jasper said. “No one in their right mind would think you killed Allen.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously? You think a jury would look at me and think that I didn't care about the inheritance? That I just happened to fall in love with my husband's best friend only a couple of months after the accident?”

“It won't get that far,” he said firmly. “They tried arresting you once and a judge threw it out.”

“But a judge signed off on it in the first place,” I countered. “And, granted, the detectives hadn't exactly been honest with what they'd told her they had on me, but if they put together a strong circumstantial case, there's always a possibility someone will listen.” I sighed. “And that's even without the Lockwoods getting involved.”

“What did they do now?” Jasper asked, his eyes darkening into that stormy sort of gray that came when he was upset.

“We don't have any proof,” I said. “But Mr. Henley has been talking to some friends of his in the DA's office and there are rumors going around that some of the people higher up are pushing things forward. Like the judge who signed the original arrest warrant hadn't been quite as thorough or careful as she ought to have been.”