“What exactly do you know about the relationship between Bobby Creek and Lydia Harper?” the detective asked.
Her shoulders relaxed a little as she focused on his eyes. “Bobby was dating my friend, and she caught Lydia and Bobby together at the hospital just last week.”
“So, you didn’t see anything for yourself.” The detective anchored his palms on the table, then began to drum his fingers. She wasn’t sure if he was impatient or trying to make her nervous.
“No, I didn’t witness them together myself.”
“And what was your relationship with her?”
“We hung out a few times because she worked with a friend of mine at the hospital. We weren’t close, though. I’ve never spent time with her alone or been to her place.”
“Let’s get back to Lydia’s relationship with Dr. Edwards, then. You never answered my question. Did you know they were having an affair?”
“Daniel would never sleep with an intern. He’s way too by-the-book. And there’s one important detail you’re missing—the man still loves me.” Both the sheriff and detective remained quiet. “And affair implies cheating,” she continued. “Are you saying this alleged relationship began while I was dating Daniel?”
There was only so much she could tolerate, and if the detective was going to imply she killed Lydia out of jealousy, that was about as absurd as accusing Daniel of cheating.
Instead of answering the question, the detective asked, “Is there anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts at the time of Ralph’s or Lydia’s death?”
A cramping pain developed in her pelvis, and her stomach started to burn. “No.”
Were the police playing some sort of game with her? Trying to find the weak link, to see who would flounder under pressure if shaken up? They probably did this to everyone they questioned, she rationalized.
“Anything you want to add that you feel would be pertinent to the investigation?” the detective asked.
She bowed her head and gripped her temples with both hands. “No. But does this mean you’re letting me go?”
“Of course. But don’t leave—”
“Town,” she finished for the detective. “You can check my place. You’re free to go into my home. My car. I don’t care. I have nothing to hide. You don’t need a warrant.”
“Well, thank you. That saves us some time.” The detective gave a quick nod to the sheriff.
Once out in the hall, she said, “You know I didn’t kill them. You know me as well as Bobby. And as for Nate, bringing him up was just low.” She’d tried to remain strong through all of this, but now, tears stung her eyes.
“I don’t know anything anymore, I’m afraid,” he said in a grave voice.
Ben was on his feet when she saw him, and she rushed to him without a second thought, throwing her arms around him like he was the only one in the world who could comfort her.
He smoothed a hand through her hair. “You okay?” He cupped her head, holding her tight against him where she wished she could stay forever.
“No, I’m not,” she murmured into his chest.
She sniffled and gained her composure a minute later, and then pulled herself free of him, away from the sense of safety he’d managed to give her at that moment.
The sheriff was still nearby, and she didn’t want to say anything until they were alone.
“Remember, don’t leave town,” the sheriff said.
“What the hell is going on?” Ben asked as he opened the door for her to leave.
Before she could answer, her lip caught between her teeth in surprise at the man heading toward the station. “Jeremy?” She went through the exit and remained at the top of the short steps, watching him approach.
Jeremy stopped before her, his gaze meeting Ben’s for a brief moment before finding her face again. “Doc.”
Ben tenderly gripped her arm, encouraging her to shift closer to him.
She knew Jeremy’s parole officer didn’t work at the sheriff’s station, so why was he there? “Are you okay?”
Jeremy’s hands twitched against his thighs, and his normally slicked hair stuck out every which way. She was pretty sure he was in withdrawal. He must have found drugs somewhere last week when she wouldn’t supply him with Valium, and now he’d run out.
Shit. She might not like him, but she didn’t want him suffering. “We should talk,” she said when he remained quiet. “Maybe you should come by today.” She took a hesitant step in his direction, and Ben took one, too, right with her.
“Can’t. The police need to talk to me.” The slightest chatter from his teeth clicking together captured her attention as he spoke.
“About the murders?” She arched a brow. “I guess they’re questioning everyone, huh?”
“We don’t want to make you late, then.” Ben stepped back to re-open the door for him.
“Call me if you need to talk before tomorrow.” Riley waited for Jeremy to go inside before directing her attention to Ben.
“He one of your patients?”
It was probably obvious, but she said, “That’s privileged information.”
“Well, I don’t like that guy. There’s something seriously wrong with him,” he said as they walked to the rental.
“You do remember what I do, right?” she asked once inside his SUV.
“Yeah, not a huge fan anymore.” He got behind the wheel and shifted to face her. “So, you want to tell me what happened in there now?”
Her hands dropped like weights into her lap. “Well, I’m pretty sure I’m one of the suspects.”
“I told you they might—”
“No, it’s worse than that. They act like they have evidence or something. I can’t even leave town.” She tried to remain calm, but anxiety clawed at her with sharpened nails. “I gave them permission to go to my apartment, even. To look around.”
“Wait. What? What kind of evidence?” His face hardened with concern.
“They said my ex was sleeping with Lydia, which is crazy. And to make matters worse, they brought up Nate.” She took shallow breaths, unable to find the right rhythm to breathe. “They acted like I might have been the cause of his death.”
“Hell, no. I’m going back in there.”
“No, please. It will only make things worse.”
“They have no right to be harassing you like this.” He dropped a few curse words before adding, “They better have been tough on your ex.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If he was sleeping with Lydia, he sure as hell better be a suspect, too.”
Chapter Eleven
“How’s the tea?” Ben asked.
“It’s good. Thanks.” Riley sat on the couch in her office, holding the mug between her palms. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and he was so damn pissed he couldn’t think straight.
He understood that the police needed to pursue every possible angle, but this was bullshit. And to bring up Nate? His blood heated, and a vein throbbed in his neck.
There was an intense heaviness in his stomach and a tension headache building in his temples. “You don’t actually think Bobby Creek had anything to do with this, do you?”
“Not you, too.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“He served, like you, and so, I assume you don’t think he’s capable of killing.”
“What do you think we did in the military? Paint rainbows and sing ‘Kumbaya’?” He arched a brow.
“Ben . . .”
“We did kill people.” He cupped the back of his neck and turned away. “Murder’s different, though. So no, I don’t think Bobby is the guy. But it’s because I remember him from school. He was never good at getting dates, at least not back then, but he had a good heart.”
“Well, maybe he’s changed.”
He pivoted her way, noting the darkness now hooding her eyes.
“People do change, I guess.” He let the implication of his words hang in the air, because he wasn’t sure which
way he wanted them to blow, anyway. “What about your ex? We should talk to him, too, right?”
She looked down at the amber liquid in her cup. “The nurse said Daniel will be tied up in surgeries all day.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll pay him a visit at the hospital, then.”
Her gaze lifted. “No, that would make things worse.”
“And do you think he’s capable of murder?”
“He’s a surgeon. He saves people. A murdering psychopath? No way.” She took a sip of her tea. “And why would he kill Ralph? It doesn’t make sense.”
“And why would Bobby?”
“Good point.” She lowered her cup to the table. “But I know Daniel much better than Bobby.”
Her eyes were the color of brandy, the kind he and his buddies used to drink to celebrate a successful mission, and he couldn’t help but get lost in the depth of them.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Really? And how do you know?” The smallest of smiles met her lips.
“I’ve always been good at reading you.”
“Maybe not.” She hid her gaze the moment she’d spoken, and a shadow of the past dropped over the room.
“Do you remember that time you got a C on your history paper?” He sat next to her. “I think it was a piece on the Persian Gulf War. You were depressed for like a week about that grade. But you tried to hide it from me. You did your best to make me think you were fine, but I knew you. I knew you were beating yourself up about it.”
“How the hell do you remember that?”
“Because I remember everything about you.” He took a second to reel in his emotions. “And it’s hard to forget, anyway. I’m pretty sure it was the only time you didn’t get an A.”
She chuckled. “True.”
He reached for her hand. “The point is, it doesn’t matter how hard you try, you can’t hide your feelings from me.”
She peered at the ceiling before her eyelids dropped closed. “You’d be surprised,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her.
The office intercom kicked on, which had her flinching and retracting her hand from his.
Riley’s admin, Lonnie, whom he’d met twenty minutes ago, announced, “Your nine o’clock appointment is here.”
Riley took a steady breath. “Give me five minutes.”
“Okay,” her admin responded.
“Why don’t you cancel?” he asked as she stood, his eyes focusing on her skirt, which hugged the curves of her ass.
“I can’t. I need to stay strong.” She faced him but had a hand to her eyes.
The material of her skirt stopped a couple of inches above her knees, and he could see a purplish mark as a result of her fall over the weekend.
Her long legs had the perfect amount of muscle, and her silky blouse gave a hint of the fullness of her breasts beneath. He couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of her body from the night at the hotel; seeing her in her bra, with her nipples poking through; the hardness of her thighs as he had massaged her legs; the way her tongue had felt inside his mouth . . .
Her looks should have been the last thing on his mind, but he’d always been a multitasker. His body wasn’t ready to forget her, even if his brain was protesting for him to focus on the killer and only the killer.
He needed to protect her, and now, maybe even clear her name.
He didn’t need to screw her.
Screw. Wrong word. It could never just be sex. Riley wasn’t like one of the women he’d dated in the past. She wasn’t someone he’d fall asleep next to, hoping she’d be gone in the morning. No, she’d been the girl he wanted to fall asleep, and wake up, next to. And now, she’d become the woman he wanted to view every sunset and sunrise with.
She just didn’t know.
And he could never let her know.
“You deserve time to grieve,” he said.
“My patients need me.” When her hand fell to her side, her brown eyes were once again coated in liquid. “You saw Jeremy. I canceled on him Friday. He needs me tomorrow, and there are others that need me today.”
“I don’t know.” He tensed. “The idea of you alone in this office with someone like him . . .”
“It’s a good thing it’s not up to you.” She pointed toward the door, a harsh look finding her face.
He hadn’t meant to piss her off, he just wanted to keep her safe. He wanted to be there for her this time like he should have been before—he just had to fight the pull he felt toward her whenever she was within arm’s length.
“Ben?” She waved a hand in front of his face, and he blinked.
“Shit.” He shook his head. “Sorry.”
Her features softened as she stepped closer to him. “You okay? I guess I didn’t really stop to ask you that.”
“Okay about what exactly?”
“Ralph’s death.” Her fingers skimmed along her jawline. “I was too angry at you to ever consider how sad you might be, especially since I didn’t know until the other night you two had stayed in touch.”
Ohh. He stood but turned his back to her. “I’m upset, of course. But I’ve had men die in my arms before.” Memories from war came back to his mind, coursing through him at lightning speed. His scalp prickled, his pulse quickened, and his warm skin grew hotter. “What I mean is that I’ve learned how to go through the stages of grief a lot faster than the norm. I didn’t have much of a choice.”
She pressed a hand to his shoulder, and his body tensed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He shifted his hand to his chest and up to reach her fingers. “I made it out. And I carry the names of those who didn’t inside of me. And I’ll carry Ralph with me, too.”
She was quiet for a moment before he heard a soft sniffle, and he pivoted around to face her. “What’s wrong?”
“That’s just a lot to carry.” Her voice cracked as a tear slid down her cheek.
He gathered a breath and palmed her face, finding her eyes, trying to stitch up his emotions before they, too, leaked out. “I’m strong enough to handle it.”
He just wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to resist her.
* * *
“I’m friends with Bobby’s mom. You don’t think he’s the killer, do you? I saw that movie once where the guy came back from Iraq—”
“Mom.” Ben held up a hand. “Really?”
She shrugged.
“Who told you about Bobby, anyway?”
“Small town. Clearly, you’ve forgotten that,” she noted.
Yeah, he’d forgotten how fast news traveled here, which also meant the neighbors knew Riley had been questioned.
Just great. “You happen to have the suspect list for me? It’d save me the trouble of obtaining it myself.”
“Funny.”
Ben stretched back in his chair and stared at the tuna sandwich. He didn’t have an appetite right now, but he knew his mom would lose her mind if he left without eating.
“Well, I for one am glad your friends are coming here to help out. I was wondering if they could stay here?” She tapped her fingers on the counter as if restless. “I’ve already started putting your bedroom back together.”
“They’re definitely not staying here.”
“I’d like time with them. They’re the cutest couple.” Her cheeks flushed. “You know your father gets jealous whenever I’m around Aiden. That accent . . . There’s a reason why he won’t take me to Ireland like I’ve always wanted.” She sat in the chair across from him and jerked her chin up, motioning for him to eat. “He thinks I’d leave him for some hot Irish hunk.” She smiled. “Maybe I would.”
“Sure.” He rolled his eyes and grabbed half of the sandwich. “Anyway, they’ll be arriving tomorrow morning, and I already booked them a room at the hotel.” He swallowed a few bites of food. “Please, don’t decorate my old room. You know I’m not moving back home.”
“And why not? Vegas is so . . . Vegas.”
She smoothed her hands over her blouse before they fell into her lap, and she shrugged. “Women. Booze. Gambling.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“What you need is to go to church. When was the last time you went?”
“Mom,” he grumbled and scratched the back of his head. “Can we just focus on the situation at hand? What are you doing to keep yourself safe?”
“Your father’s not letting me out of his sight. He even called out of work for the week. He has his gun ready for anyone who even tries to come through the door.”
His dad had about the same moves as Chuck Norris or one of the other action heroes from the ’80s or ’90s. “Yeah, well, hopefully, we’ll get this wrapped up in a week, but if not, I’ll fly someone in to watch you.”
“What about Peter? He’s cute.”
Ben laughed again. “First of all, I fired Peter—didn’t you hear about the scandal?” He shook his head. “And secondly, why do you care what your bodyguard looks like?”
“It’d be nice to have something good to look at if I’m stuck in the house all day,” she said, far too casually for his liking.
“Mom? You realize there’s a possible serial killer on the loose, right? Two people are dead. One was your friend.”
She stiffened, her mouth went tight, and her eyes became dull, almost lifeless, in a flash. “I can’t think about it. I just—” Her sentence died as she began to cry.
“Shit.” He moved quickly to his mom’s chair and knelt at her side. “I’m sorry. I know we all have our own way of dealing with things, and so you’ve been distracting yourself by focusing on me. I get it.” He held her hand.
“I can’t accept this is real,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’d rather just think of this as you finally visiting home.” Her bottom lip trembled, and it gutted him that he’d not only devastated Riley with his absence—but his own mother.
The Final Goodbye Page 10