face.
Too soon for her comfort, the paramedics had packed up their things and departed. Now it was just her and the lieutenant. Here come the questions, she thought, resigned. But she was surprised.
“See-ob-han?” the man queried, head tilted while he peered at the blanket she had tucked around her daughter, now sleeping peacefully against her shoulder. Maggie glanced down. It was the blanket Wendy had given her right before she’d left. Maggie had been so touched when the woman had made one for each twin, their names embroidered on the front.
“It’s pronounced She-vonne,” she corrected him. “It’s Irish.”
“Ah, that’s right. Your mother is from Ireland.”
Maggie shrugged, not prepared to discuss her mother with this stranger. Even if he had saved her life.
“Are you taking it easy on the job, Willis?”
Lieutenant Willis snapped to attention as a petite officer entered the room. Her short graying mop of hair was slightly wavy and curled under at the ends. She carried herself with authority. Maggie could almost feel the energy crackling from her as she walked.
Maggie edged over to the stroller and set her sleeping daughter inside it, never taking her eyes off the new arrival.
“No, ma’am. Just starting to ask Maggie here why someone would come after her with a knife.”
“That’s a good question, Lieutenant.” The woman’s brown eyes zeroed in on Maggie. They were eyes used to smiling, surrounded by laugh lines. But right now they were stern. “I’m Chief Martha Garraway from the local precinct. I’m very interested in your answer, Ms. Slade. We’ve looked for you a long time. Used valuable resources to find you. It’s apparent someone else was looking, too. Any idea who?”
Maggie drew in a fortifying breath. She was in deep. If it had been only herself, she would have run for it. But she had to think of her children. They needed to be protected.
“I know exactly who it was. It was the man who killed my husband.”
“Your husband!” Lieutenant Willis blurted.
Maggie swiveled her head from Lieutenant Willis to Chief Garraway, her brow furrowed. Her lips pressed together as she studied the thunderstruck expressions on their faces. Well, they apparently hadn’t expected that to come out of her mouth.
“How could you not know that I was married if you have been searching for me?” Maggie planted her fists firmly on her hips, shaking her head at them. Seriously? “Wasn’t that why you wanted to find me, because I disappeared after my husband was murdered?”
Lieutenant Willis scowled, his gray eyes narrowed. But he made no answer.
“Okay, Ms. Slade... Is it Ms. Slade?” Chief Garraway’s smooth voice was the epitome of politeness. Her stiff posture and frosty gaze, however, flashed a clear warning that she wasn’t pleased. This was not a woman who enjoyed looking foolish.
Still, Maggie hesitated. She had developed a strong distrust of cops since Phillip’s murder. Her mind screamed at her to be careful. Don’t give too much away. Then she shot a glance at Lieutenant Willis. Her eyes caught on the bloody towel still draped across his shoulder and her heart clenched. He had taken that knife wound for her. Would he have put himself in harm’s way to protect her if he were on her enemy’s side? Her glance flicked back to the towel, then to his wounded side. Although the wound was hidden, she could see that he was holding himself stiffly. She recalled that he had refused to be medicated, despite being in pain. He’d told the paramedics that he needed to stay alert, to stand guard over her and her children. That decided it for her. She would trust them...to a point. She wouldn’t reveal everything. Not until she knew for sure she could trust them.
“I kept my maiden name, so yes, my last name is still Slade.” Let them think what they wanted about that.
Chief Garraway nodded. “Okay. Ms. Slade, we have gone over your history with a fine-tooth comb. There is no evidence that you were recently married. Or that you have ever been married.”
Maggie threw her hands in the air. She whirled and paced to the window. Still cautious, she remained to the side of the curtained panes and glanced beneath the blinds. When she was calm enough to speak, she pivoted and fused her gaze with the chief’s. “We married in Las Vegas, on a whim. We filed for a license and then went to a chapel. There’s no waiting in Vegas.”
“Las Vegas? You mean like Elvis? Why would you do that?” Her hackles rose at the poorly disguised scorn in Lieutenant Willis’s voice.
“Yes, Las Vegas. What’s wrong with that?” Maggie tossed her head. How dare that man judge her? “Lots of people get married there. It’s completely legal.”
She wanted to wince at the petulance she heard in her own voice. She should stop talking. She didn’t need to explain her actions to him. But for some reason his scorn really got to her.
“I don’t care about why you got married in Las Vegas,” the chief asserted, throwing a silencing glare at her lieutenant. “You could have gone to the moon for all I care. But there should have been some trace of a marriage license in your records. And I’m also concerned that you are claiming to have witnessed a murder, yet you never came forward. I need to understand why. It’s obvious you’re in danger. Were you somehow involved in whatever happened to your husband? Is that why someone is after you now, why you were in hiding?”
Was she a suspect? Maggie’s eyes widened, and her breath hitched in alarm. Never once had she dreamed that she could be facing charges. She found it ironic that after being a juror who had convicted a woman six years ago for murder, she could face jail time for a similar crime. She shuddered.
“I haven’t done anything wrong! I was running for my life!”
“Relax. We’re just trying to figure this out. You have to admit, your actions are suspicious.”
Maggie whirled to face the tall lieutenant, who was even now observing her, his eyes narrowed. His mouth was a hard line slashed across his handsome face. “I had nothing to do with his murder...” She stopped. What if it had been her fault? She had wondered that often during the past eighteen months.
“Something tells me you’re not sure of that.”
Maggie stared at him, a wave of helplessness pounding into her. Rory dropped his pacifier and startled, whimpering as he awoke.
“Maggie, why don’t you get your children settled. Then we will talk. But I warn you, I expect you to tell me everything.”
She was cornered. In her own living room. It was too bad she and God weren’t on speaking terms. She could really use someone in her corner about now.
With a stiff nod, she turned away from the officers invading her home and went to get Rory and Siobhan settled in their cribs. Fortunately, they both were exhausted and settled down to sleep without fuss. For several minutes, she stood over them, her chest tight as she fought to control her anxiety. Whatever happened, she couldn’t go to jail. What would happen to them? Foster care? Maybe they’d even be separated.
A
