Stirred (35 page)

“But I didn’t,” he interrupted. “I’m asking you today.”

I caught his eye and felt locked in, unable to turn away. “My gut, my heart, they tell me no way, that, among other things, Eden was too ambivalent about her marriage and husband to even care enough, but…” I paused, my heart breaking inside.

“But what, Mr. Bennett?”

I sighed. “Considering all she had to lose in a divorce, my head tells me it’s…possible.”

“But
likely
?” Reed pushed.

“I don’t know. I mean, the guy was a hedge fund manager under investigation for fraud. What’s to say some vengeful investor with a high-priced P.I. didn’t uncover all his dirty little secrets then devise a plan to both kill Ross and throw suspicion at his wife? There’re a half dozen ways you could spin this. All I know is, regardless of what I don’t remember, I don’t have it in me to kill anyone. And I doubt Eden does either. You have your intuition, and so do I, Detective. So do I.”

Reed nodded with another loud sigh before returning to the seat behind his desk. “Okay. So…I’ll have the glasses from Ms. Marsh’s analyzed for drugs. Would you consider blood and urine tests, Mr. Bennett? To check for substances?”

I agreed with a nod, and, after Reed handed me a medical request slip, I said, “Speaking of blood… I’m still concerned about those stains on Trinitee’s sweats, the ones I borrowed.”

“There was no blood evidence at the Ross murder scene, so there’s no connection there,” Reed assured me.

“But what about Trinitee?” I asked.

“We’re still looking for her, Mr. Bennett, but, except for you and the matching blood-type, she’s not connected to
this
case in any way I can see at this time.”

I swallowed hard, unsure if I should mention my suspicions about Declan Ross and Trinitee. I was still reasonably sure he was the guy she’d been seeing, but not a hundred percent. If I told Reed, that would just weave in another thread linking me to these murders, and I didn’t need that, not without trying to unravel the connection myself first. And if there really was one, Reed would no doubt find it, and when he did, he’d probably confront me. Hopefully, by then, I’d have some answers that made sense. Until then, it was one bit of info I vowed to keep to myself. I just prayed Trin turned up before then.

With a rustling of papers, Reed straightened out the heap of files he had strewn across his desk. “Anyway, I appreciate you speaking with me again, Mr. Bennett. Keep everything we discussed here between us, okay? And if you think of anything else, please let me know, including if you hear from Ms. Marsh.”

He stood with a polite smile and offered me his hand. I reciprocated with a weak smile of my own, then left the squad room and exited the station through the main front doors. When I stepped out onto the sidewalk, I took a deep, cleansing breath and glanced around, and there she was—Eden—standing ten feet away. She pushed her shoulder from the post she’d been leaning against and closed the distance between us. She stood before me, a tender look in her reddened eyes, and a sad but relieved smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She fidgeted, like she didn’t know what to say, how to act. And I understood completely. I didn’t know either.

“Took you long enough,” she teased, her voice weak and shaky. “I posted your bail two hours ago.”

My brow shot up in surprise, but, “Thank you,” was all I managed to eke out.

She stepped closer and reached for my hands. “Sean, I’m so sorry…” she began.

But, before she could make contact, I pulled away and glanced up at the second floor precinct windows. Eden froze, and her face fell. She looked so sad and lonely, and immense guilt washed over me.

“Eden,” I whispered.

She waved her hand low at me. “It’s okay. It’s fine. I…I understand. I just…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry you got dragged into all this. I’ll, um… I won’t bother you anymore, okay? I just… I’m sorry,” she finished then started to rush off.

I grabbed her by the elbow, just for a moment, enough to stop her. Then I pulled away.

“The cops are breathing down my neck, Eden. I need to stay away from you…for a while, at least. I hope you understand.”

Her eyes got sadder still, but she smiled, however false, and nodded.

“It won’t be long, Eden. I promise. I’ll call you soon. I just need some time, you know?”

A tear fell from the corner of her eye, but a dim light of hope sparked there, too. She nodded again, then turned and walked away.

I hopped onto a Metro bus to Harborview Medical Center for the blood draw and urine sample. From there, I caught a cab and returned home, where I stretched out on my sofa, my hands behind my head as I stared blindly at the ceiling. I lay there for countless hours, sorting through the details, imagining what Eden was doing, how she was dealing with everything.

She must feel so alone. Even though I knew it was for the best, I hated that I’d pushed her away, and while I was determined to stick to my plan, I needed her to know I missed her. So I dug for my cell phone in my pants pocket, relieved the cops had returned it. I powered it up and waited for the homescreen to populate. My heart was seized with a moment of hope when the little red badge with a number one glowed bright over the corner of the text app icon.

Just one text.

I realized it could be from Trin. A large part of me wanted it to be, so I’d know she was safe. But the better part of me prayed it was from Eden instead, and, when I tapped on the icon, I breathed in relief when my prayer was answered.

Eden’s text message was brief.
I’m sorry. I miss you
, it read. 

I held the phone to my chest, right over my heart, and choked on a single sob. I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over and lifted the phone in front of my face.

I tapped out,
I miss you, too. We’ll figure this out. But I have a lot of questions.
Then I hit send.

A minute later, she texted back.
As do I. This is going to blow your mind but…my lawyer informed me that Aurelia’s house was in Declan’s name, so it’s mine now that he’s gone. I’m going over there as soon as the police release it. I’ll let you know, but when they do, would you meet me there?

I read her message again and again. Each time, my heart beat a little harder.

Before I thought about what it might mean, I texted back,
Yes
, then powered back down after confirmation she’d read it.

It’d been well over a week since I’d last heard from Sean, but, in my heart, it felt more like an eternity. I wanted to call him. I needed to hear his voice. But I was trying to respect his wishes and keep my distance. I didn’t think it wise to text him, as that would only provide more damning evidence for the police to use against us, not to mention fodder for the media, who were growing impatient out on the street. They became more brazen every time Ian and I left the house, swarming the car, screaming out questions, banging on the glass. It’d gotten so bad, I barely ventured out anymore, which left me feeling trapped, and now lonely since Ian was avoiding both me and the house.

He’d been incredibly stoic the first couple days following his father’s death, refusing to grieve, insisting on comforting me instead. He said Dad would’ve wanted him to step up and take responsibility, to be the man of the house. I tried to keep my emotions in check, but when he’d find me crying in a dark room, he’d throw his arms around me and tell me everything would be okay. And I let him, too. It seemed to give him purpose to step into his father’s shoes. A heavy load for a boy on the brink of manhood, a burden that grew increasingly dense as the days dragged on and his carefully crafted armor began to crack. At that point, he finally let
me
step up.

I spent every hour with him, day and night. Held him when his grief overwhelmed him and he couldn’t stop crying. Consoled him when his anger at his father became unbearable and he needed to vent his rage. And when reality finally settled in, I sat beside him and rubbed his back as he stared silently out the window—sad, angry, and, ultimately, numb.

But while he accepted his father’s frailties and sudden death, he couldn’t tolerate all the salacious accusations the press continued to manufacture on a daily, even hourly, basis. From then on and with my consent, Ian began to spend most of his time at Gracie’s house, where there were no reminders of his father’s duplicity. No reporters asking loaded questions. And no neighbors whispering in each other’s ears, inventing indecent conjecture about his parents.

I kept away from school, unwilling to let the media circus and their provocative speculations follow me. It would only serve to disrupt the children and the well-orchestrated momentum of their day. So, with Ian gone and nothing to do, I was left alone with only my thoughts for company, and they were anything but comforting. If only I could talk to Sean. I tried to convince myself our separation was a good thing. Early on, I’d been too weak to cut him off. Now I told myself, with everything in complete chaos, I should just let him go. He wasn’t good for me—way too young and a risk I could ill afford should anyone find out. I felt so vulnerable. If he wanted, Sean could publicly ruin me with one short tweet. But down deep, I knew he wouldn’t. He might be afraid at the moment, but he loved me. He’d told me so.

Even after spending an entire day being interrogated by the police, when he found me afterwards on the sidewalk out front of the station, I could still see the intensity of his feelings deep within the warmth of his eyes. Just like the first time we met—that look, the sound of his voice, the way he touched me, and that confidence he wore like a badge of honor—all of it, it did something to me, made me feel things no one else had stirred in me for years. It was like I’d been sleepwalking for the last two decades, only to be suddenly urged wide awake. It’d felt so good, I’d pushed my better judgment aside and convinced myself he was worth the risk. I still believed he was. I just never imagined the risk would be so great. And now, unless I figured out who’d killed Declan and Aurelia and was making it appear as if Sean and I were somehow responsible, that risk was about to increase exponentially.

Fortunately, Ira Breckmeier had just notified me that the Seattle P.D. and Prosecutor’s Office had finally wound up their on-scene investigation and had released Aurelia’s house. As Declan’s executor, I had every right to be there if I so chose. So, armed with the proper paperwork Ira had emailed over, I decided now was the time to do a little investigating of my own.

I didn’t know what the police had found and confiscated, but I was hopeful they’d left something, anything that might prove useful to me. Or Sean. While I certainly had a few nagging doubts, I trusted my gut and my heart, both of which told me Sean was incapable of homicide. Though I’d witnessed his battle with jealousy, and I’d experienced firsthand how that had manifested into his need to claim me in a way that left no doubt as to who he believed possessed me, body and soul, I could not accept that those feelings had compelled him to murder. Regardless of what I did or didn’t believe, he was at risk as much as I was. Perhaps more. So there was no one better than Sean to help me get to the bottom of this fiasco.

With that in mind, I called his cell. Unlike days past, when he’d answer on the first ring, obviously anxious to speak with me, this time, it rang six times. One more, and it would’ve gone to voicemail. But, besides the call itself, I wasn’t about to leave any more evidence the police could twist into proof of collusion. Luckily, I didn’t have to, because Sean answered.

“Eden,” he said simply, his voice under tight control.

“Sean. Hi. How are you?” I asked.

There was a long pause, then, “Okay. You?”

I sighed in response, sad that he sounded so cold and detached. But I understood why. I only hoped, once reunited, we could rekindle the spark we’d once shared.
Time
, I thought.
Give him time.

“Same.” I hesitated, hoping he’d break the icy dam between us, but when he said nothing else, I moved forward instead. “So, um…the police have released Aurelia’s house. I’m going over to look around.”