The Silent Widow

Nikki didn’t want Haddon’s help either, but unlike the professor he wasn’t taking no for an answer, lifting her to her feet and practically dragging her, sobbing, out of the ballroom and through some fire doors into a small courtyard garden.

‘Sit here,’ he said, lowering her gently onto a stone bench beside a softly trickling waterfall. Nikki was still crying, tears streaming down her cheeks and turning her eye make-up into muddy rivulets. But the wracking sobs had slowed to weak, intermittent shudders. The storm appeared to be subsiding.

‘What happened in there?’ Haddon asked, taking a seat beside her. Reaching over, he pulled her hair back from her face and offered her his handkerchief.

‘I don’t know,’ Nikki sniffed, taking it. ‘The music, I think. It made me think about Doug and I … I just felt so sad, Haddon! He’s gone, and it’s … it’s incredibly sad. All of a sudden I couldn’t hold it.’

Haddon pulled her in

to his arms. ‘You poor, sweet thing.’

Exhausted, Nikki leaned into him trustingly. Haddon was like the big brother she’d never had. Solid. Steady. Not a superstar, like Doug had been, but a rock nonetheless, an anchor through all life’s storms.

He was whispering in her ear. ‘He didn’t deserve you. You know that now, Nikki. He never deserved you.’

His tone was low and reassuring, and Nikki’s head was still foggy enough that his actual words didn’t sink in fully at first. It was only when she felt his hand pushing up underneath her dress, his hot and eager fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh, that alarm bells belatedly went off.

‘Haddon!’ She tried to push him away but his grip was like a vise. ‘What the hell are you doing?!’

‘What I should have done years ago,’ he murmured, his voice thick and guttural with desire. ‘Don’t fight me, Nikki. You know you want this. We both do. I’ve loved you for so—’

‘Haddon, no!’ She was so shocked, she felt momentarily frozen. Haddon was leaning over her now, his full lips pressing down on hers, kissing her, pawing at her. ‘I said NO.’

‘Is everything OK out here?’

Detective Goodman’s voice cut through the night air like razor wire. Haddon Defoe jumped back like a surprised cat.

Nikki stared up at Goodman with profound relief. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so pleased to see someone. Actually, come to think of it, she could. It was the night the boy in the red car had scared off the lunatic trying to kill her. That whole incident felt like a dream now, or like something that happened multiple lifetimes ago.

Had she dreamt it? Tonight, more than ever, Nikki felt as if reality was slipping away from her.

‘Everything’s fine,’ she told Goodman, straightening her hair and dress and getting to her feet, still in shock from Haddon’s clumsy come-on. She glanced at Haddon, who looked back at her, mortified.

Did he really believe she wanted him? Wasn’t that what he said? ‘You know you want this. We both do.’ The idea was painful. Haddon had been Doug’s friend, his best friend. How could he?

On the other hand, Doug had lied, to her, and perhaps to both of them. Perhaps Haddon had as much right to feel angry as Nikki did, to feel cheated by Doug’s affair? Especially if he really had ‘loved her for so long’.

But had he? Surely not. That was crazy! She’d have noticed. Wouldn’t she? She was a psychologist, for heaven’s sake. She’d have seen the signs. There would have been signs.

‘Are you sure you’re all right, Nikki?’ Goodman pressed her.

‘She told you,’ Haddon snarled at him. ‘She’s fine.’

‘I’m a little dizzy, that’s all,’ Nikki told Goodman. ‘I probably had too much to drink. I think I should go home.’

‘I’ll get you a car,’ Goodman and Haddon announced simultaneously.

Nikki looked from one to the other. ‘Thank you both, but I’m perfectly capable of calling myself an Uber. I appreciate the concern but I’d like to be alone now. Please.’

Outside, on Rodeo Drive, two separate lines had formed, one for valet parking and the other for Uber pick-ups. Nikki waited in the second line, her thin cashmere shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders against a suddenly chill evening wind. She’d come here tonight to check out Luis Rodriguez for herself and to try to provide support or protection for Anne. But it turned out that she was the one who’d needed support, As for Luis Rodriguez, Nikki could barely remember now why she’d thought him so important. Something about drugs, and Trey and the girl who’d gone missing in Mexico City all those years ago … It was all a bit of a blur.

‘Roberts! Car for Dr Roberts!’

Nikki stepped into a spotless sedan that smelled of peppermint and leather mixed with its owner’s lemony aftershave. As she fastened her seatbelt, it took her a moment of intense concentration to be able to remember her own address.

What’s wrong with me?

‘Brentwood, please,’ she told the driver. ‘Tigertail Drive.’