dawned on her that they were looking for whatever poison had killed him. Which meant she’d become more than a person of interest—she’d apparently moved right into the position of primary suspect.
As they prepared to leave, the taller of the two turned to face her. “We searched his office at Mabry Trucking too,” he said. Like that would make her feel better. All she could do was nod.
After they’d finally gone, she went about the business of straightening her house, finding comfort in the busywork.
Then she bathed Jacob. After drying him off and putting him in a fresh diaper and onesie, she breathed deeply, loving the clean, baby powder scent of him. Her breasts tingled, reminding her it was nearly feeding time. Jacob latched on, suckling with gusto. Filled with love and finally, a little peace, she watched him drink his fill. After burping him, she placed him in his bassinette to rest and set about making herself something for dinner.
Bill had been a meat-and-potatoes sort of guy and she’d marinated a couple of ribeye steaks. But the thought of eating that made her stomach turn, so she fixed herself a salad with tuna on top instead.
As she carried her empty bowl to the sink, the house phone rang. Caller ID showed her in-laws. After the awful conversation with Theresa before, she decided not to answer. Bill’s mother could leave a voice mail. Nicole didn’t need any more grief after this long and horrible day.
The answering machine picked up. “Nicole? It’s Theresa. We just wanted to let you know that we intend on filing for custody of our grandson.” And she ended the call.
Nicole had to remind herself to breathe. Her disbelief turned to anger. Who did these people think they were? How could they possibly believe any judge would give them custody of her son? She’d done nothing wrong. And she was a wonderful, devoted mother. On what basis did they think they could rip her baby away from her?
Then she realized the Mabrys must truly believe she’d murdered her husband. That would be the only scenario in which she could imagine a judge handing Jacob over to them. If she were convicted of murder and sent to prison, her son would need family to take care of him.
Except she hadn’t killed Bill and she wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Jacob. She’d fight to her dying breath to keep her boy by her side.
Failing that, there was one tiny fact Bill’s parents were unaware of. A simple DNA test would prove that Jacob wasn’t truly related to them. He carried none of their blood. Bill had known; it had been one of the conditions she’d insisted on when her parents got her to marry him. She wasn’t a liar and there’d been no way she’d try to pass Kyle’s child off as another man’s.
Now Bill’s parents—and the sheriff—clearly believed her capable of murder. Kyle was alive—and she’d rejoice in this knowledge once she could breathe again—and also considered her not only a cheat, but a liar. And she’d lived in Anniversary her entire life, so she knew soon the entire town would be talking and drawing up sides.
What a way to cap an already horrible day.
She truly didn’t know how much more she could take. At least the day was almost over. Soon, she could fall into her bed and escape into the land of dreams.
Right before darkness fell, she headed out front to get the mail from the mailbox. Bill’s credit card statement had arrived. He’d informed her in no uncertain terms that she was never to open his mail, so she usually left these on the kitchen counter for him to open when he got home.
Now Bill was gone and she’d be cancelling all his credit cards. Until then, she’d need to pay all outstanding bills. She slit the envelope and pulled out the statement and blinked.
The total balance was quite a bit more than she’d expected. Nearly two thousand dollars. The list of charges made her stomach clench. Flowers from a florist, three times that month. A twelve-hundred-dollar charge at Guller’s Jewelry Store. Dinner at an expensive Italian restaurant, which mustn’t have been for business since he’d used his personal credit card.
And the final charge was the real kicker. Two hundred and thirty dollars in lingerie at Victoria’s Secret.
None of this had been for her. Bill hadn’t once brought her flowers or gifted her with jewelry or lingerie.
Which meant he had a mistress. Another woman. Which would explain all those nights when he hadn’t come home, claiming to have slept at the office.
A mistress. Rather than dismay or regret, all she felt was relief.
She needed to notify the sheriff. If they didn’t know about this woman, they needed to. Maybe they could get a search warrant for her home too.
* * *
All the way back to his rental house, Kyle muttered a running litany of curses. He’d been hurt and angry before. Now he was furious. How could it be possible that he’d never truly known Nicole at all?
When he passed the sign for the lake, he took a sharp left, catching the turn so fast for a moment he thought his wheels might leave the pavement. He drove to the park at the top of the bluff—once his and Nicole’s favorite spot, though he wouldn’t think of that night.
Out of the truck, he climbed down to the water’s edge, stripping off his clothes as he went. The hot Texas sun beat down on him unmercifully. Finally, clad only in his boxers, he jumped into the lake.
And swam. Clean, crisp strokes, the physical action of using his body to move helping to clear his head. Across the lake he went, all the way to the other shore, before turning around and heading back. He did this three times, until his chest and arms were screaming in protest.
When he finally climbed up on shore, his muscles quivering, he felt better. More like himself. As if he had a snowball’s chance in hell of being in control of his destiny.
Dressing, he climbed back up to his truck. He needed to get to the supermarket and stock up on provisions.
The H-E-B store looked unchanged. He parked and went inside, grabbing a cart. Though he hadn’t made a list, his little rental house was totally empty, so he’d need staples including cleaning supplies, as well as food.
As he perused the choices in paper towels, someone called his name.
He looked up, breaking into a grin. “Bret Atkinson. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
The two men shook hands. He and Bret had been buddies in high school. When Kyle went off after joining the army, Bret had stayed in town and gone to work at his father’s boot repair shop. Bret had married his high school sweetheart, Heather.
“I was pretty damn surprised yesterday when I heard you were in town,” Bret said. “Considering I went to your memorial service about a year ago.”
Once again, Kyle found himself explaining what had happened to him. He figured he might ought to consider printing up his story on paper and handing them out since his appearance clearly was a shock to everyone in town.
“Wow,” Bret marveled when he’d finished. “It’s a shame what’s happening with Nicole, isn’t it?”
“I heard about her husband getting murdered.” Kyle kept his tone noncommittal.
“Yeah, and she’s the prime suspect.”
