Protecting Her: A Romance Bundle
“Ms. Wilson?”
I nodded numbly.
“Please come with me,” he said curtly.
I glanced at Heather, suddenly afraid to leave her. “What about my friend?”
The man glanced at Heather with disdain. “She can come and wait outside the room,” he said.
“She can’t come in with me?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“What the hell,” Heather demanded. “Can’t you tell that Beth is upset? Her fiancé is dead,” she said loudly. “She needs me!”
“It’s okay,” I said quietly. Heather’s words had attracted the attention of everyone around us. “I’ll be okay.”
The man nodded. “I’ll take good care of her,” he said. This time, his voice was tinged with empathy. “She’ll be okay.”
Heather gave me a final squeeze and I followed the man down a dark corridor lit with fluorescent lighting. He guided me into a small room with a table and two chairs. The sight of an iron ring welded to the top of the table struck me with fear. Oh, god, I thought. This is like, where they handcuff people.
I shivered.
“There’s no need to be frightened,” the man said, as if reading my mind. “Everything is going to be fine, trust me.”
I nodded.
“I’m Detective Aberson,” he said. He smiled, showing yellowed teeth. “You can call me Al,” he said. “If you want.”
I nodded. “I’m Beth,” I said softly. “Well, Elisabeth, actually. Elisabeth Wilson.”
“Beth is fine,” Al said. “So, Beth, can you tell me a little about your fiancé?”
I shuddered and convulsed with sobs. Tears ran down my cheeks and I cried, feeling helpless and embarrassed. After a few seconds, Al handed me a plastic disposable pack of tissues from his pocket. They were crumpled and smelled like stale tobacco, but I was grateful. I blew my nose and wiped my sticky cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I just…I can’t believe it.”
“I’m very sorry,” Al said gently. “And I’m sorry that you have to be here.”
My stomach twisted and flipped. “The…the cops said there was reason to think Michael’s death wasn’t an accident,” I said slowly. “Why?”
Al sighed. “I don’t have very much information yet,” he said. “Can you tell me about your relationship with Mr. Bennett?”
I sank down in my chair. “You mean, you don’t know who did it?”
“We have some ideas,” Al said gently. “But please – your relationship?”
I nodded. The numb feeling was spreading back through my limbs. I was already exhausted from vacillating between upset and numb…it was strangely tiring. I closed my eyes and thought of how satisfying it would feel to drop in bed and sleep for days.
“We’d been together for four years,” I said slowly. “We got together when I was twenty-two. Michael had just turned twenty-eight.”
“Can you tell me about that?”
I frowned, narrowing my eyes. “Why does it matter how we met?”
Al glanced at me with sharp eyes. “I just want to hear it from you,” he said smoothly.
A wedge of fear pierced my heart and I shivered. “Do you…do you think I have something to do with his death?” My voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “Do you think