by Cole Baxter
"Of course," Belinda said. "I would hope that we'd be friends in any circumstance."
"But," Mario said, "it will be a nice story to tell when this all blows over."
"If it all blows over," I said.
Belinda quirked an eyebrow. "It will, Laurie," she said. "I know that it's hard to see a way out right now, but it will all blow over and you won't even feel pain over it."
"It seems impossible to not feel pain over it," I said. "I mean, I feel like this is going to be a part of my life forever."
"It won't be," Mario tried to assure me. "You will smile about how strong you were. And you will realize that despite how terrible it was, it was a means to make your life better. I mean, look how good your life has gotten. You're a famous author, and women turn to you for support and strength."
"But it takes so much strength to be that for people," I said.
Belinda patted my knee. "Of course, it does," she said. "Nothing worth doing is easy."
I was about to thank her for the compliment when my phone rang suddenly. I looked down and to my surprise, it was the police station.
I wondered why they were calling me now. Surely, they couldn't think I was still a suspect. I had assumed Blake had updated them on everything.
"Hello?" I said as I balanced the phone on my ear.
"Laurie, this is Detective Sam Mackendy," he said. "Do you have a moment to chat?"
"Uh . . . sure," I replied.
"Laurie, we've uncovered some new evidence, and we have reason to believe that you need some extra protection. We'd like you to come into the station."
"What?" I asked. I felt my heart drop. "What kind of extra protection?"
"We'll discuss it when you get here," he said.
"Well . . . maybe Blake could come with me?" I asked. "For extra protection? What's happening?"
"I don't think that's a good idea," Sam said.
I froze. "Why not?" I asked.
"Blake is . . ." Sam took a deep breath. "Not really on the case anymore."
"Excuse me?" I asked in shock. "What do you mean?"
"The employer he had ceased paying him," Sam replied.
"No, that can't be right," I said. "Who's his employer?"
I could hear Sam fighting with himself about whether to tell me or not.
"The Whitmans," he said at last.
I almost dropped my phone. "Excuse me?" I asked. "The Whitmans were paying Blake?"
"Laurie, it's a very complicated issue," he said. "That's why we wanted you to come in to discuss it all."
"No, no, it's not complicated." My voice went cold. "My former in-laws, and the parents of the person who tried to kill me, were paying Blake. I assume it was to build a case against me."
"I . . ." Sam said. "You really should come in."
"I need to speak to Blake first," I said, and then I did something I had never done before. I hung up on a police officer.
The Graces were sitting there, and they were staring at me.
"What just happened?" Belinda asked me.
"Blake's mysterious employers were the Whitmans," I said. "They were paying him to investigate me."
"What?" Mario asked. "Did he know?"
"He knows now," I said. "And I'm sure he's known for quite some time. He told me he didn't . . . but I have a feeling things have changed since we last talked about this. I can't believe this. I can't believe this is real. I can't believe—"
"Laurie, take a deep breath," Mario said gently.
I must have looked like I was about to have a full-blown panic attack. "I'm calm," I assured him, even though that really wasn't the case.
"Is that what the police called to tell you?" Belinda asked.
I shook my head. "No," I said. "They wanted me to come in. They said that I needed extra protection and I suggested that Blake come with me. That's when they told me that things . . . may not be as they seem."
"I see," she said. "What are you going to do? You should surely go in."
"I will go in," I said. "But I need to talk to Blake first. I need to figure this out."
"Do you think that’s a good idea?" Mario asked.
I sighed. "To be honest, I don't know what a good idea is and what isn't anymore," I said. "But I do know that I feel a real connection with Blake and I can't just ignore it. I can't just pretend it's nothing. I think . . . I think he could be the one for me. I'm so angry at him, though, so I'm not sure we can get past things."
"If you truly think he is the one, you will get past it," Belinda assured me.
"Are you sure?"
"Oh, I'm sure," she said and snuck a glance at Mario.
I was certain that there was a backstory there, but I didn't want to pry. I picked up my phone and sent Blake a text that could not be misunderstood.
Come here, now. There is something urgent I need to discuss with you.
I wasn't sure when he would answer, but I knew that I wasn't talking to the police until he got here. I felt lost and I needed to know the truth.
What's the matter? he texted back right away.
The police told me who you are working for, I said. I want answers.
Be right there. It's not what it seems.
I nearly threw my phone when I saw that.
It was exactly what it seemed. Unless, of course, he had some other explanation for why my in-laws were paying him to investigate me.
Were there no good men left? Would I never trust or fall in love again?
I turned back to the Graces, who seemed determined to support me, no matter what.
"We could come forward," Belinda said as she had offered before.
"No," I said. "I want you two to be safe, especially until Devon is behind bars. This is something that I have to do myself."
Chapter Thirty-Four
Blake
To say that Laurie was pissed was probably an understatement. She would strangle me with her bare hands, and I knew that talking logic with her might go right over her head.
The thing was, I knew that she had every right to feel the way she did. She was so angry at the world because she had been so hurt, and I hadn't helped things. But I needed to tell my side of the story, and hopefully, she would listen to it before getting even angrier.
The fact that she had found out from the police made me angry. While I was driving to her hotel, I called Sam. I'm sure that he was surprised to hear from me, given how I had stormed out, but I had to speak to him.
When he answered, I couldn't help but scream.
"You told laurie who I was working for?"
"Blake, calm down," Sam said.
I almost caused an accident in my anger. I probably shouldn't be driving this angry, but I didn't care.
"Calm down?" I said. "Do you have any idea what that kind of thing could do to her?"
"I'm aware of the psychological effects of trauma," he said. "But she needed to know why having you protect her might be a bad idea."
"Why the hell would it be a bad idea?" I asked him. "I would protect her whether I was being paid or not. It's called being a decent human being, Sam."
"It's called having an affair with your suspect," he said.
I could have killed him if he were in my presence.
"Is that what you think it is?" I answered. "You couldn't for one second stop to think that I was in love with her?"
"Like you were in love with Lola?" he asked.
I knew he knew.
"You don't have a right to say her name," I yelled through the phone line. "Leave her out of this, do you hear me?"
"Blake, do you not think any of us miss her?" he asked me. "Do you think that it's just been easy for the rest of us?"
"None of you knew her like I did," I said.
"That's true," he answered. "None of us knew her like you, and for that, we offer you our deepest sympathies. But you HAVE to stop acting like everything is about you, Blake, because it's not. You are not the only one grieving and you are not the only one trying to deal with
life. Other people have issues too."
"Oh, really?" I asked. "What issues do you have, Sam? Because from what I see, you just have a picture-perfect police officer life, and you are riding high these days."
"Blake, I'm not here to discuss my problems," he said. "I had to tell Laurie. If we want her to be honest with us, she has to know the truth."
"You don't still think she's involved, do you?" I asked. "Devon is alive, Sam, in case you didn't notice. Devon is alive, and that means she's not a murder suspect anymore."
"I know," he said. "But this wouldn't be the first time a husband and wife have been involved in something nefarious—"
"Right," I said. "Yet it's the first time the wife is in intense therapy and trying to escape him while working in tandem, is it?"
"Blake, you know that we have to look at things from all angles," he said.
"Sure." I rolled my eyes. "You think whatever you want, Sam. I think you are being narrow minded."
"And you aren't a cop anymore," he said.
"Yes, you've made that abundantly clear," I said to him. "So why don't you keep your nose out of my business?"
"Because this is my case, Blake," he said. "You don't have privileges anymore."
"Right, which means that I don't have to answer you anymore," I replied. "So that's it, Sam. We're done. Stay out of my life, stop calling me, stop freaking out on me, and stop telling my girlfriend things that she doesn't need to know."
I hit the button of my steering wheel to end the call. It wasn't as satisfying as slamming the phone down on the receiver, but it would have to do.
I had called her my girlfriend. I didn't know if that was where things actually stood. I hated labels, and given how angry Laurie was with me right now, I didn't think she would actually agree. But she was something important, so I had to say something.
Parking at the hotel was ridiculously full. At first, I thought that it was just full of guests until I saw some of them were news vans.
If they were here for Laurie, I would shoot them where they stood. They needed to leave her alone. Everyone needed to leave all of us alone unless they were going to tell us where Devon was.
I made my way into the lobby and to the elevator. I pushed the button for the top floor and then fixed my hair in the mirror. She probably didn't care about what I looked like at this point, but I hoped that there was a small chance this would go well, and I wanted to look semi-decent.
Of course, I didn't really look semi-decent. I looked like a drunk coming off a bender, which, to be fair, I was. Why did she even like me? I was a mess.
Maybe I deserved all the anger she had for me.
When I knocked on the door, I heard her shuffle around in the hotel room and then saw her check the peephole. That was a good thing, and I would compliment her on being safe.
When she opened the door, though, I could see that all of those plans were about to go out the window.
"Hi," I said. She was alone in the hotel room, but there were several paper plates and a dish of homemade food. "Who was here?"
"The Graces," she said and then slammed the door behind me. "Not that it's any of your business."
"Whoa, whoa, Laurie," I said. "Please don't be angry."
"Please don't be angry?" she answered. "You lied to me."
"I didn't lie to you," I replied. "I didn't know."
"But you did know at some point," she said. "What was that point?"
"I . . ." I wasn't sure how much Sam had told her, and I didn't want to get in any more trouble. "A couple of days."
"A couple of days," she said. "Really? So, you hid this from me for a couple of days."
"Laurie, you didn't need to know," I said.
She looked like she wanted to hit me. "Who are you to decide what I do and don't need to know?" she asked me.
"Well, I just thought that you had enough on your plate," I said. "And it doesn't even matter now."
"How doesn't it matter?" she asked me.
"Because I quit," I said. "As soon as I found out. I went to their house and told them that I thought it was basically their fault Devon tried to murder you. They pulled me into the police station after that and reamed me out and it all went down. I walked away, Laurie."
"When?" she asked.
"Two days ago," I said. "So . . ."
"Were you drunk?" she asked.
I couldn't lie to her. She was like a truth serum.
"Yes," I answered. "What difference does it make? I quit, so I didn't have to be professional. And a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts."
"No, it does matter," she said. "I can't take your drinking anymore, Blake. I can't take the fact that you are a different person sober and drunk. You are a hot mess."
"I'm a hot mess?"
She arched an eyebrow. "Go ahead and say it," she said. "Go ahead and say it's the pot calling the kettle black. Like I don't have a reason to be messed up. And at least I'm working on it, Blake."
"I'm working on it too," I said.
She laughed out loud. "That's working on it?" she asked. "If that's working on it, I wouldn't have wanted to meet you when you weren't working on it."
"No," I said. "No, you wouldn't have. When Lola first died, in my arms, I was such a mess that I didn't even know my own name. So, don't tell me that I'm not getting better. I'm trying to heal, Laurie, the same as you. I'm trying to find my place in the world, but thanks for your judgment."
She seemed to want to say a million things, but she chose just a single simple one.
"I'm not judging you," she said. "I'm giving you the truth because it appears that no one else in your life will tell it to you straight."
"Oh, well thank you for the compliment," I answered. "I so much appreciate it."
"Whatever, Blake," she said.
Both of us sat there in silence. The tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife, but I knew I would have to be the first to do it.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I should have told you."
"I'm used to men lying to me," she said at last. "What difference does it make?"
"It makes a difference because you shouldn't be used to it," I answered. "You shouldn't be used to people hurting you and lying to you. I'm sorry the world has done that to you, Laurie."
"Whatever," she said.
I could see there was no salvaging it. I was about to say something else when both of our phones went off at once. I had set up Google alerts for either of their names, and it seemed that Laurie had done the same.
We both picked up our phones, grateful for the distraction.
When I saw what the news was saying, my eyes bulged out of my head.
The body of Devon Whitman was found hanging from a tree.
"Oh, my God," Laurie said. "Is this real?"
"I . . ." I didn't know what to say to that.
"Is this another hoax?" she asked. "Blake, could he fake that?"
"I . . ." I read the article again. Obviously, there wasn't a picture, but I struggled to think of a way to fake it. News traveled fast, but someone had seen it with their own eyes. Someone had taken a picture, likely. "Let me call Sam."
I was certain the last thing Sam wanted to do was talk to me again. To my surprise, he actually picked up.
"Is it true?" I asked him as soon as he answered. I didn't want to give him a chance to fight with me. I wanted him to know that I was all business and we could talk about our feelings later.
"About Devon?" he asked. "Seems like it. The coroner has already been out there."
"We need to go there," I said.
"Who’s we?" he asked.
"Laurie," I responded. "Laurie and me."
"Do you think that's a good idea?" he asked.
"Damn it, Sam," I said. "Are you going to give me privileges or not?"
"Yes," he answered. "Yes, you can come."
"Good," I said. "I'll text you."
With that, I hung up the phone and turned to Laurie, who was hanging on my every wor
d.
"It's true," I said. "Do you want to go?"
"I . . ." She looked so torn.
"You don't have to," I said. "His body won't be there for long, though. If you just need to see the site . . ."
"Yes," she answered. "Yes, I need to go."
"Let's go then," I said and stood up. I reached in my pocket for the keys and she met my eyes.
"Are you all right to drive?"
"Yes," I said. "I swear to you, Laurie. I won't put you in danger."
She held my gaze for a moment and then nodded. "All right," she said and grabbed her own coat.
I placed my arm around her and guided her out the door. This was the end of it, at last.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Laurie
When the news articles had first gone off, I didn't believe them. I couldn't believe that Devon had actually committed suicide. That wasn't like him. Devon thought far too highly of himself to actually do that.
But all the news articles said that it was his body hanging from a tree, and there was no way to dispute that.
When Blake and I got to the site, the area was crawling with cops. Devon's body was gone, which made me slightly disappointed in a sick, twisted way. I wanted to see him with my own eyes, even if I would have a breakdown because of it.
However, the rope that he had been hanging from was still there. There were people taking pictures and I was sure that someone would recognize us.
"Are you all right?" Blake said as we got out of the car.
I nodded. It was like I was a magnet being drawn to the site. "He's really gone, isn't he?" I asked.
Blake nodded. "Yes, baby," he said. "He's really gone."
"It just . . . doesn't make any sense to me," I said. "Devon would have never done this a year ago. He thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread."
"Maybe he thought that attitude wouldn't fly very well in jail," Blake said. "Which he's right about."
"Yeah, but . . . he was so full of himself, Blake, that I'm not even sure he thought he would go to jail."
"Laurie, what are you saying?" Blake asked me.
"I'm saying . . . I think something isn't right," I replied. "I know he was found with a rope around his neck, but . . ."
