“What? I’ll come with.”
“No, you stay. I need to talk to Raine again, then I’m going to pass something by Paul.”
“You’re shutting me out again, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely not.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I can’t do this without you. Right now, we only have each other.”
“You’re going to tell Raine and Paul everything.”
“That’s the plan.”
Something about the way he answered left it open for a change of plans. Why? She started to ask him; he stopped her with a deep, lingering kiss. A moment later, he was up and stretching. She followed him out of bed, toward the bathroom. Tony opened an eye, as if wondering why his humans were acting so strangely, then shut it again and burrowed back into his feather-dusted bed.
She slipped into her robe and brushed her teeth while Logan dressed. Neither spoke. They exited the bedroom and descended the stairs in silence, as well.
“I’ll make you a cup of coffee,” she said as they reached the landing.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get some at Raine’s.” He kissed her. “I won’t be gone long.”
He started for the front door; she caught his arm, stopping him. “Remember, no secrets.”
“No secrets.” He searched her gaze. “This is something only I can do. I promise.”
He crossed his heart, then kissed her again. She watched him go, the strangest sensation rolling over her. Of finality. Of good-bye.
Tears stung her eyes and Bailey blinked against them. Damn hormones, she thought, heading into the kitchen.
She made herself a decaf latte, carried it to the table and sat. But before she sipped, Tony started to bark.
Bailey set down her mug and went to check on him. As she reached the front hall, the doorbell rang. She peered out the side window; her stomach sank. Detectives Rumsfeld and Carlson had come calling.
She wished she could pretend she wasn’t home, but they had seen her. “Tony! Quiet.”
She swung open the door. Her greeting died on her lips as Tony charged down the stairs.
The detective’s hand went to his gun. “Restrain your animal, Mrs. Abbott!”
“Tony, no!” She grabbed his collar; he nearly yanked her off her feet.
The fur of his ruff stood up and he growled, deep in his throat. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never seen him act like—”
Rumsfeld cut her off. “For the dog’s safety and your own, you need to confine him. I don’t want to be forced to take him down.”
“Of course,” she said, as shocked by the deputy’s threat as she was by Tony’s behavior. “Excuse me.” She dragged him to the study, then locked him inside. He immediately started clawing at the door.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” she said, returning to the detectives. “How can I help you?”
“Is your husband home?”
Her mouth went dry. “No, he just left for his sister’s. I expect him back shortly.”
“May we come in?”
She hesitated. “Why? If you’re looking for Logan—”
“We need to ask you a few questions.”
No reassuring smile this morning, he was all business. “I suppose. Come on in.”
They stepped inside. Tony, who had quieted, started pawing at the door again.
“Would you like coffee?”
“No, thank you. You might like to sit.”
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. She nodded and led them to the kitchen. Her latte sat cooling on the table; she took the chair by it and automatically curled her hands around the mug.
Clinging to it like a lifeline.
Waiting.
Rumsfeld sat in the chair directly across from hers; his partner stood behind him. “It’s come to our attention that Henry Rodriquez was in possession of a box of women’s items, a box he presented to you the day of his death.”
“Yes,” she managed.
“Do you know what that box contained?”
“I think so.”
“And what is that, Mrs. Abbott?”
She couldn’t form the words. This was it, what she and Logan had feared. It’s why she’d been overcome with sadness as he’d walked away. Why they had lived their lives and their children’s lives last night.
Their last night together.
Her fairy tale was ending.
“He didn’t do it,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“My husband, he didn’t do anything wrong. He’s innocent.”
“What was in the box, Mrs. Abbott?”
She shook her head.
He ticked the items off for her. “An initial necklace that belonged to Nicole Grace. A hair ornament that belonged to Trista Hook. Amanda LaPier’s class ring. And a bracelet, lipstick and key fob we haven’t placed yet. Is that an accurate description of the box’s contents?”
When she didn’t reply, he asked again. “Is that what was in the box, Mrs. Abbott?”
“Yes.”
“The box with your husband’s initials burned into the wood?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Yes.”
“And you kept this information from us to protect your husband?”
She met the detective’s eyes. “Because he didn’t do anything.”
“Yes or no, Mrs. Abbott?”
“Yes.”
“Interfering with an investigation is a crime, did you know that?”
“I guess so.”
“Concealing evidence is also a crime, Mrs. Abbott. Are you aware of that?”
“I wasn’t! I didn’t! I only just remembered.”
“When?”
“Yesterday … no, the day before. Wednesday sometime. And not everything yet. Not finding Henry, or even being on Tea Biscuit. It’s been coming back in segments.”
“What’s going on here?”
“Logan!” She jumped up and ran to him. “They know about the box! They think it’s yours, that you murdered those women—”
“It’s okay, baby. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Mr. Abbott, you’ll need to come with us.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
“May I call my lawyer?”
“Of course.”
“No!” she cried. “He didn’t do anything! Please, you have to listen to me!”
“It’s okay,” he said again, freeing himself from her arms. He kissed her. “I’ll be home soon.”