for questioning based on what I told you and don’t bother trying to deny it.”
“I’m not denying anything.”
“I told you those things in confidence,” I said. “I assumed it was off the record.”
“I’m not a journalist, Ms Storm, I don’t do off the record.”
“What about protecting your sources?” I was pretty sure even the FBI followed those rules.
He popped out from the wardrobe with my suitcase, regarding me with a concerned look as he brought it over to the bed. “You need protection?”
“I didn’t need to be ratted out,” I shot back. “Mrs Colby knew you’d gotten your information from me.”
“I don’t usually,” he said. “Mrs Colby denied any animosity toward Ms Daggon, swore the incident with her dog was an unfortunate accident. I was trying to get to the truth and I went too far.”
He looked at me, not smiling, not trying to win me over onto his side. “I’m sorry, Ms Storm. This is a small town and I realize that can make things awkward.”
An apology was the last thing I expected.
I didn’t even know what to do with it.
My blood was high and suddenly I had nothing left that needed fighting.
He seemed to take my stunned silence as an acceptance for his apology and went back to the task at hand, flicking the catches of my suitcase, flipping the lid open.
Something about his paws all over my battered suitcase cracked me, the suitcase that had taken me from this place and brought me back full-circle.
Everything hit me at once.
It wasn’t just Mrs Colby and Mrs Biggenhill.
My room was being searched. I was a suspect in a murder investigation. Joe had cheated on me. A stranger in my room, a detective rifling through my life for incriminating evidence, had the sensitivity to apologize for making my life awkward while the man who was supposed to love me forever and forever, the man I’d handed my heart over to, had callously crushed my life while I watched.
My legs gave way and I crumpled, sliding down the wall.
I curled into a ball, hugging my knees, my head buried. My throat closed, swollen with silent sobs that racked through me.
“Ms Storm?”
I peered up to see the detective hunched before me.
“I meant it,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”
I tried to talk, but couldn’t get a word out. I stared at him, but it wasn’t his rugged face I saw. My head had filled with the static picture of Joe and Chintilly caught in the throes of passion. Then the image dissolved and suddenly I was looking at what lay trapped behind Joe’s betrayal. The man before the fall, the one I’d wanted to grow old with. The Joe who’d always looked at me as if I were the most beautiful, most special woman in the world to him. I’d had no tears for the cheating scumbag, but this Joe, well…
The hours we’d spent lost in each other, chatting about everything and nothing. The warmth of Joe wrapped around me. The love etched into every smile. The promises etched into every look.
Joe had hurt me, but he’d also loved me and that made it a hundred times worse. How could he have been so stupid, so careless with our love? Why couldn’t he be a man I’d have no trouble hating?
I put my head down as the sobs erupted, great big chunks of grief ripped straight from my heart.
“Ms Storm?” A hand landed on my shoulder. A wad of something soft—toilet tissue—was crammed into my fist. “Maddox, I’m done here. Okay? You’re not a suspect. Hell, I never considered you one, you know that, right? This is just routine.”
I shook Detective Bishop off and buried my head deeper into my arms.
“Is there anything I can do?” he said. “Someone I should call?”
“I’m fine,” I sobbed. “Please go.”
He went.
I stayed there in my ball, remembering every minute of everything I’d had and lost, feeling the loss to my bones, sobbing until I choked and then sobbing some more.
The next thing I knew, Jenna was at my side, throwing an arm around my shoulder, pulling me