“Yes, we did.”
“Is it too late for us, Evie?”
She squeezed his hand and smiled. “It’s not too late, Simon.”
Evie unlocked the door to her cottage and turned to Simon. “Care for a nightcap or a coffee?”
He nuzzled her ear. “Anything else to offer?”
Though she had anticipated he would want to end the evening in her arms and making love, she stiffened. She’d prepped herself insufficiently for this moment.
“We’re adults now, and there’s no one watching,” he said, misinterpreting her reaction. When she didn’t answer, he looked at her. “Evie, what’s the matter. Did I say something wrong?”
A catch formed in her throat at the softness of his voice and the look of concern in his eyes. She could only shake her head.
“Evie, please tell me what’s wrong.”
The time had come to tell him. She nodded, inhaled a long breath and drew strength from somewhere deep inside her. “I will. I’ll tell you everything. Let’s get comfortable first.” She flicked on the light and shrieked. “My God, what happened here?” Chairs were overturned. Copper canisters lie on their sides on the counter. Flour and sugar powdered the table, chairs and floor. The cabinet doors hung open and everything in the cabinets was scattered around the room.
Simon stepped in front of her. “Stay put.” He edged his way to the living room.
No, she would not stay put. He might need her help. Opening the drawer next to the sink, she breathed relief when her hand closed around her Beretta. “Here, Simon.” She shoved the gun in his hand.
Inch by inch, she moved with him through the cottage, checking closets and under beds and keeping a close watch on his back.
“Whoever did this is long gone,” Simon said after a thorough search.
She expected him to hug and console her. It surprised her when he folded his arms across his chest and stared at her with a steely look in his eyes. “Tell me what’s going on, Evie, and I don’t want to hear it’s nothing.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Bear. Where’s Bear, Simon? I didn’t see her anywhere. I have to find her.”
Frantic that something happened to her pet, Evie made a move to leave the kitchen.
Simon grabbed her arm. “The skunk is fine. She’s holed up under the bed in the spare room.”
She trusted him, his word, but she still needed to see for herself. She had to find her and make sure no harm had come to her. Besides, holding Bear would calm her.
“She’s probably scared, Simon. Let me get her, then we’ll talk.” He didn’t relax his hold. “I’ll tell you everything.” She looked into his eyes. “I promise.” He released her.
When she came out of the bedroom with Bear cradled in her arms, Simon had already built a fire in the wood stove. The crackle of softwood and the scent of cedar wafting through the room soothed her. She set the overturned coffee table on its legs, picked sofa cushions from the floor and put them back in place.
Simon walked over to her. In one deft move, it seemed, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his dress shirt. He stood with his legs apart and his hands in his pockets. “Talk.”
She plunked down on the sofa, thinking she never saw this side of him before—this impatience, this firmness; at least not with her. Earlier, she had decided to tell him everything, but being forced into it this way made her feel contrary. Petulance and denial were not options, though.
For a moment, she considered downplaying her mistake to extricate herself. It seemed an impossible task, like flying without wings. To get caught in a lie, or a lie of omission would only make matters worse between them. She didn’t want that. If they were to have any kind of relationship, everything had to be out in the open. Her insides felt like they’d turned to mush. Feeling at odds with herself and the situation, she sighed, mindlessly running her hand down the white stripe on Bear’s back.
“It all started when I was on a weekend getaway and my car was rear-ended. Brad Hanson, the insurance adjuster who handled my claim, asked me out. We dated for six months. With my hours and his long hours and sixty miles separating us, it was stolen moments late in the evenings and an occasional Saturday or Sunday.” She wiped moisture from her brow.
“Go on.”
She noticed a muscle throbbing in his jaw and knew how much it hurt him to hear she had been intimate with another man. While he waited for her to find her way back to him, she looked for other possibilities, maybe someone better, he might think. God, she was such a bitch and totally unworthy of him.
Exhaling loudly, she gathered more courage. “One day, on my way home from work, I stopped at Vito’s for take-out. When I paid for the order, I noticed Brad sitting at a table with a woman and two little girls. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw the hand holding the woman’s hand wore a wedding ring. I sneaked closer, hid behind a half-wall and listened to their conversation. ‘Whatdaya say, girls, doesn’t Mommy look beautiful tonight?’ I heard him say.”
She blinked back tears. “It was like a switch was thrown in my mind, Simon. I hated him. I hated him for lying to me, hated him for wasting six months of my life. He never told me he was married. I wanted him to pay. The next thing I knew, my gun was drawn on him.” She cast a sideways glance at Simon. His expression gave away nothing. “As you can imagine, pandemonium broke out. Screams came from everywhere, chairs and tables were overturned as people ran toward the exit. I remember screaming at him, calling him names while my finger settled over the trigger.” She took a deep breath, staring aimlessly at the floor. “I almost shot him.”
“What stopped you?”
She scowled. “The cries of his daughters.” If it weren’t for that…No, she wasn’t capable of killing anyone in cold blood.
“What happened then?”
“The police arrived. I was handcuffed and hauled to the station.” Being handcuffed like some thug embarrassed her, even now. She wanted to cover her face to hide her shame. Instead, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I was incoherent for awhile and a lot of what happened next is a blur.”
“Were you arrested?”
She shook her head. “No. My captain was called in, and—”
“Darius Brown.”
She frowned. “You know him?”
“No. I called him.”
She didn’t need to ask why, nor did it surprise her he had made inquiries about her. Since her first day on the Honeydale police force, Simon sensed something bothered her and had tried to get her to open up to him. The first place he would look to learn the answers she had been unwilling to give him would be her past.
“What did he tell you?”
“Only that you have an exemplary record and were a decorated officer.” He gave her a steady look. “The whole thing was covered up.”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“Brad’s wife, Constance, didn’t want the negative publicity. Her children would suffer, she said. Darius jumped at the opportunity. He didn’t want the negative publicity for the department, either. It was a win-win situation for everyone involved that he could see.”
“You didn’t just get away with it, though, did you?”
She shook her head. “There were conditions. Psychiatric counseling for six months and my resignation from the force.”
He stared into space a moment, obviously ruminating.
She found herself thinking about the past, how being in the wrong place at the wrong time that weekend set off a string of events that changed her life forever. Images of her in a shooting stance before Brad, his wife and his daughters quivered her insides. She swallowed. Her throat felt thick, like her saliva had turned to sand.
Jumping from the sofa, she went to the kitchen and came back with two bottles of beer. She set one on the table for Simon. He ignored it. She opened hers, took a long swig and enjoyed the nip of the ice cold brew blazing a trail down her throat.
“You think it’s his wife who�
��s doing this to you,” he said.
“I don’t have any proof, but I know it’s her. This same type of thing happened in my apartment in Halifax, too, so who else could it be? It would be too much of a coincidence for it to be anyone else.”
“Since you’re not doing anything about it, you must feel you deserve it.”
“I do, Simon. Don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t see, Evie. You reacted to a situation that took you by surprise. Granted, it wasn’t the most prudent method of handling it, but whether or not you were incarcerated, you still paid for it.”
“I have my freedom.”
“You may not be behind bars, but you’re not free.”
He was right; she wasn’t. She stared out the window at the blackness, feeling so very, very tired. A wind had picked up and cried against the windowpanes, begging for entry.
“What about the man tonight at the restaurant? Does he tie in to any of this?”
Surprised by the question, she looked at him. “I can’t see how.” She watched him pace, feeling regretful she told him. Now he would feel obligated to help her put an end to the harassment. True, Constance showed no signs of stopping with the vendetta. If anything, her agenda had escalated, but truthfully she hadn’t wanted Simon to become embroiled in her troubles or to help her out of the situation. Constance needed to be stopped, though, before she did something that couldn’t be taken back. How would she do that without Simon’s assistance?
“Does Brad’s wife look anything like you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just answer the question.”
She didn’t know where the question led or what he was thinking, but answered honestly. “We’re about the same height and weight, but she has brown eyes and brown hair, her nose is a little on the patrician side and her lips are not as full as mine. Why?”
“Eye and hair color can be changed, and with cleverly applied makeup so can a nose and lips.”
“What are you saying? That she’s going around Honeydale pretending to be me?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible, don’t you think?”
“Why would she?”
“For the same reason she’s breaking into your home. Getting payback for what you did to her and punishing you for having an affair with her husband.”
“Oh, I don’t think she’d do something like that.”
“Do you know her so well?”
She could only shake her head.
“If someone had said you would draw your gun on your lover in a crowded restaurant when you found out he was married, would you have believed it?”
“Probably not.” She let out a withering sigh.
He paced the length of the room and over his shoulder he said, “This is the second time someone has mistaken you for someone else.”
“The second time?”
“In Piper’s Pub when we were looking for someone who might have seen Miller the night he was killed. The bartender Gus thought you resembled the woman who left with him that night.”
“I forgot about that.” Could Constance be…She put a finger to her lips. “You’re not thinking Brad’s wife is our killer?”
He stopped inches away from her. “Right now, she’s as good a suspect as we have.”
It couldn’t be possible. It seemed too extreme, too bizarre.
“What story did the department give to cover up your lapse in better judgment?”
“Fortunately, a corner store on the same street as Vito’s was robbed only moments before and the official statement was that I mistook Brad for one of the robbers.”
“Convenient, but the story would have holes.”
“They were talked around.” She stared into his eyes. “You know how it’s done. Politicians at work.”
Simon fell silent.
After what seemed an unearthly amount of time and unable to wait out the inscrutable silence no longer, she asked, “What should I do?”
In three long strides, he stood in front of her. “You’re not going to do anything. I am.”
“What are you going to do?” Her insides pulsated. Bear wiggled in her arms as though feeling her unrest. “Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re going to do something stupid. Not for me. I couldn’t live with myself if you ruined your reputation because of me.” Tears filled her eyes.
“I won’t do anything stupid. I’m just going to have a look at Constance and see if my suspicions are warranted.”
“That’s it? Just a look?”
“Yep.” She needed to make sure Simon wouldn’t do anything foolish. Where she was concerned, he might. “Okay, I’m going with you.”
“It’s better if I go alone.”
“I’m going with you, Simon. Don’t argue with me.” Determined to have her way, she followed him into the kitchen, stooped beside him and stared at the partial boot print in the flour on the floor next to the table. “I am going with you.”
“We’ll get a cast made and compare it to the one we found next to Miller’s body. How much do you want to bet it’ll be a match?”
For once in the last thirty minutes, her spirits soared. This would all come to an end soon.
Chapter Twenty
Evie clasped the right edge of the seat as Simon sped around a turn on Hallowell Drive that would take them to where Brad and Constance lived. Conversation had been almost nonexistent during the drive to Concord. She knew why. “You’re upset with me, aren’t you?”
“For insisting you come along?”
“That, too, but mainly for not telling you sooner about…you know.” It still shamed her to put into words what she’d done.
“I’m getting over it.”
“We’re in a better place, though, than we were Friday night, aren’t we?” She appreciated how handsome he looked in an ecru Fisherman’s knit turtleneck, jeans, scuffed cowboy boots and tan suede jacket.
“Uh-huh.”
His response sounded unenthusiastic. “That’s good.”
She shifted positions and admired the glorious array of colors of the changing leaves in the copse of woods on either side of the road. The smell of pine and spruce and the sound of tires whirring, motors cranking from passing vehicles and crows squawking their displeasure to the interruption from the tree tops wafted in through the open windows. “Thank you for believing in me.”
“Here it is,” he said, flicking on the left blinker signal and turning into Sherwood Forest onto Robin Hood Lane.
Dread roiled in her gut liked indigestion. She longed for her small cottage and Bear.
No children played in the street and no cats or dogs wandered the neighborhood. Except for the occasional sound of laughter or music coming from a back yard, the subdivision seemed almost surreal.
The Hansons lived in an area where many of the elite lived. No doubt it was Constance’s choosing, though, it might be both their choosing given she didn’t know Brad quite like she had thought.
They past houses, mansions really, sitting on perfectly manicured one acre lots amidst towering oak and maple trees, surrounded by flower gardens, rock gardens and the miniature waterfalls so popular these days. Back yards boasted ponds or swimming pools and tennis courts, guest cottages and changing houses. No fences separated the properties, but hedges of either honeysuckle or evergreens provided privacy. Cobblestone or paving bricks blanketed driveways leading to double car garages with lofts.
“My God, what do these people do for a living?” Simon asked.
“Doctors, lawyers, judges. Most of them work in Concord and commute back and forth every day. This is the in-spot for the affluent to live.” She shrugged. “Their homes, their cars and where they live define who they are, I suppose.”
They passed a huge two-story house with a three-car garage. She pointed at a bumper sticker on the Corvette sitting in the driveway bragging: No Job Too Big. “For instance, that fella’s a proctologist.”
He read the sticker and grinned. “A proctologist with a sense of h
umor.”
Being this close to Brad and Constance gave her the creeps. “What do you think you’ll learn by this drive-by?”
“It’s like I said. I want to see what she looks like.”
“How are you planning to do that? Are you going to ring her doorbell and ask for directions?”
“If I have to.” He paused. “What I’d really like is a look in her shoe closet.”
She laughed. “Like that will happen without a search warrant and you won’t get one without sufficient cause.” A sudden thought struck her. “Oh God, Simon, you aren’t planning on breaking in if no one’s home, are you?”
He gave her that do-you-think-I’m-an-idiot look.
“Good.” She let out the breath she didn’t know she held.
They crept along at a slow, steady pace. Anyone taking notice of them might think they took a Sunday afternoon drive.
As they approached the address in the telephone directory for the Hansons, she crouched low in the seat.
He slowed to a crawl and stared at the brick ranch house and the Porsche sitting in front of the garage doors. “I chose the wrong profession. I should have been an insurance adjuster.”
She was about to tell him Brad owned his own company, but thought better of it. The less said about him, the better. “Constance has a trust fund, so I heard. She comes from old money and her father’s a governor and a former judge.”
“That explains the clout to cover up what happened. Though…”
She looked at him. “I can see the wheels turning. What are you thinking?”
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