Dex is s
till clutching my arms, and I hold my lips, taking a slow breath and trying to calm down. Breathe, Melissa, breathe... Leaning forward, I pick up another photo and notice my hand is trembling.
The images are horrible—a dead man, his face a sick grey color and his neck bent in an unnatural angle, clearly broken. He’s lying on the floor in what appears to be a dark, hotel conference room.
“It’s...” But everything tilts. The room seems to move out, away from me, and I’m afraid I might faint.
I can’t finish my sentence. It doesn’t matter because my friend whispers it for me. “It’s Sloan.”
Lane makes a loud engine noise from the front, and Dex releases me, running to see what his friend is doing. I can’t move. I can barely breathe. I’m paralyzed and numb—and confused. I don’t understand why I’m reacting this way, why I’m so terrified.
My voice shakes like my hands. “Why do they have these?”
Clearly, he was murdered in some gruesome manner. No. I stop myself. I’m jumping to conclusions. Maybe he had an accident. Could he have fallen? But from where? And how?
This is why Derek has been so preoccupied. Rising to stand, my light-headedness almost makes me fall. Dropping all but one print, I catch the side of the desk.
“Melissa?” Elaine jumps up and holds my arm. “Are you okay?”
“I have to talk to Derek.”
“Of course.” Her face is lined, and she holds my arm as we head back out to the front. “Come on boys. Lane, get your truck. Dex, hold my hand.”
It feels like a thick fog is wrapping around me, clouding my vision. Derek doesn’t want me to know about this... But why? I’m afraid I know the answer without needing to ask.
We’re in Elaine’s car heading back to the beach, and I barely register her telling me she’ll keep Dex for the afternoon. When she stops at my cottage, I see his black Audi sitting in the driveway.
“Call me when you’re ready for me to bring him home,” she says.
Nodding, I glance back to check on my little son before I go. He’s happily chattering baby-gibberish at Lane, unaffected by the sudden change in my mood.
“Thanks,” I say softly and start toward the door.
Pausing, my eyes close, and I listen to the soft whisper of the waves in the distance trying to find calm. I know I have to talk to him, but I’m so afraid of this conversation. My emotions are all over the place. Sloan was an abusive, sick, evil man, who hurt me and kept me living in fear for more than a year. I should not feel emotional at discovering he’s dead. I shouldn’t be shocked or disturbed... I shouldn’t... care. Why do I care?
Opening the door, when I see Derek sitting at the table, I know why I’m so torn up and twisted. I care because I know why my abusive ex is dead. I don’t have to ask who did it. I know who did it.
That leaves one question: What now?
* * *
Derek
I’d been late getting back to the beach cottage last night, and Melissa was already asleep for the second time in a row. I know she’s growing increasingly annoyed with my evasions, and she has no idea how her talk of our wedding plans and Dex’s first birthday party are killing me. The drive back from Princeton had been difficult, but leaving her as soon as we’d arrived home was worse.
“You have to meet Patrick now?” Her hands are on her hips as she follows me to the door.
“He found out about the Nikki situation. He needs to go over a few cases.” Lying to her burns in my chest, but it’s the last time I’ll do it.
“What about Dex? He hasn’t seen you in two days!”
“Patrick and Nikki are close.” I pull my keys from my pocket. “She’s heavily involved in several of his cases. Her leaving probably impacts him the most.”
“Then let him convince her to stay.” She catches my sleeve in her hand. “I can’t believe this can’t wait until tomorrow.”
Covering her small hand with mine, I look into her eyes. “I won’t be long.”
I’m going to make this right, I vow as I walk to my car. I’ll make all of this up to her, and we’ll never be in this situation again.