sound making her jump. Yesterday, she’d found the steady barrage of calls overwhelming. She’d actually stopped answering for a few hours and let the machine take care of it instead. After the sun set, the calls had died down to a trickle and then ceased altogether, giving her a quiet night.
Now with the morning, clearly they were starting up again.
Caller ID showed the Anniversary sheriff’s department, so she answered. “Missus Mabry, this is Sheriff Cantrell. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. Your husband’s parents insisted on an autopsy, so we rushed one through. The Medical Examiner put Bill ahead of everything else, considering all the Mabrys have done for this community.” He took a deep breath. “Are you sitting down, ma’am?”
When she allowed that she wasn’t, he gently asked her to please do so. Her stomach churned, but she did as he asked and told him she’d done so.
“Good, good.” Now he cleared his throat. “The coroner’s report came back and Bill didn’t die of heart disease as originally believed.” He paused, probably for dramatic effect. “He was poisoned. We found high concentrations of arsenic in his coffee.”
“Poisoned?” Blinking, she struggled to process his words. “You’re saying someone at the office poisoned him?”
“Possibly,” he agreed. “However, several of his employees claim he brought the coffee with him. I don’t know if it came from home or if he stopped and bought some and poured it into his own cup. Do you have any idea?”
She shook her head before realizing he couldn’t see her. “No, I don’t. He usually doesn’t have time to make coffee here, but I don’t know where he’d stop to buy it.”
“Gas station, maybe. Or fast food place.” Another dramatic pause. “Listen, Nicole. Do you know if Bill had any enemies? Anyone who might want to harm him?”
He meant murder him, she thought. With Bill’s abrasive, confrontational personality and his entitled, the-world-owes-me belief, she couldn’t imagine many people liked him. But she truly didn’t know. Bill kept her separated from his work life. Heck, Bill had kept her separated from everything and everyone, with the exception of the church his uncle had founded. And even there, he never allowed her to be alone with anyone. She guessed he was too worried she’d tell the truth about him.
“I’m sorry,” she finally admitted. “I have no idea.”
“I see.” The sheriff’s sigh told her he’d hoped for more. “You might want to go see your mother-in-law. She’s taking her son’s death pretty hard.”
“I imagine,” Nicole murmured. Bill had been Theresa Mabry’s entire world. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a car. I have no way to get over there.” Bill hadn’t liked her to have the freedom of her own vehicle, so they’d only owned one, which he took to work every day.
“Oh.” Apparently nonplussed, Sheriff Cantrell went silent for a few seconds. “I’ll have one of my guys bring your car back to you.”
“Thank you,” she replied, relieved when he ended the call.
Bill was dead. The words echoed over and over inside her head. Bill. Was. Dead. Never to hit her again. Never to scream invectives at her, never to force her to have sex whenever and wherever he felt like it. Gone.
She couldn’t bring herself to mourn the monster Bill had been, though she empathized with the pain his parents must feel. She imagined they’d search long and hard for whoever had done this to their beloved son. Once the perpetrator had been found, the Mabrys would enact a swift and merciless vengeance.
Not sure what else to do, Nicole stuck to her usual routine, taking care of Jacob and housecleaning while he slept. She did two loads of laundry and almost caught herself ironing Bill’s work shirts—he liked them well starched. She remembered in time and simply hung them up in his closet without pressing them.
One of the sheriff’s deputies delivered Bill’s car and keys around three. Another officer followed in a marked patrol car. Both of them expressed sympathy at her loss as they handed over the keys. Dry-eyed, she thanked them, staring at the BMW and hoping she remembered how to drive.
Once they were gone, she went back inside. Jacob’s car seat was still tucked in the closet under the stairs, since Bill refused to drive around with a car seat in his car. She carried it outside, glad Jacob was napping, and placed it in the backseat the way she always did before church. Once she had it properly attached, she stood back with some satisfaction and surveyed her handiwork. This time, she wouldn’t be pulling the car seat out.
After locking the car, she returned to her home and checked both her cell and the landline. No missed calls. Which meant neither of Bill’s parents had felt the need to call his wife to commiserate about his death.
Which meant that she should call them. While she wasn’t really close to either of Bill’s parents, she’d guessed they had no idea how their son treated her or what kind of activities he enjoyed in his spare time. She wouldn’t take that away from them, not in a million years.
So she took a deep breath and dialed Theresa’s cell phone. Theresa picked up on the third ring.
“Nicole,” she said, her voice husky from crying. “I assume you’ve heard. I can’t believe my Billy boy is gone.”
“I’m still trying to process the news,” Nicole admitted. “The Sheriff said they thought someone might have poisoned him?”
Theresa sniffled. “Yes. They’ve asked us to make a list of possible enemies who could be potential suspects.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Is it?” Theresa’s voice hardened. “I’m going to do you a favor and give you advance notice,” she continued. “Your name will be on that list.”
“What?” Nicole’s heart caught in her throat. Shocked, she struggled to find a response. Any response. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because my son told us about you. He said you’re a money-grubber, never satisfied with anything he gave you.” Vicious anger warred with grief in the older woman’s voice. “Now you have the house and the car and his bank account. But so help me, if we find one shred of evidence to indicate it was you, we will come after you. If you did anything to harm Bill, you will never be allowed to raise our grandson. Do you understand?”
* * *
Kyle Benning dragged his hand over his freshly-cut hair and struggled to relax the tension in his shoulders. Despite his honorable discharge from the army, he continued to wear his hair military-style. He felt more comfortable that way. Once an army ranger, always an army ranger.
That said, he couldn’t wait to get home. He had no choice but to surprise Nicole and show up without a phone call, since her number had changed. Worst of all, he hadn’t even had a cell phone until after he’d been discharged from the hospital. They’d flown him Afghanistan to Ramstein in Germany, where he’d remained until his condition was no longer considered critical. Months later, conscious and able to finally sit up and take solid foods, they’d deemed him on the road to recovery. Finally.
Then, they’d put him aboard another transport plane and he’d traveled from Ramstein to Walter Reed hospital in Bethesda, Maryland to continue his convalescence. Since he’d been in a
