“Mmm. I like waking up like this.”
“Well, if you don’t stop liking it so much, Winston will pee on the rug. Give me a minute, all right?”
Reluctantly, she rolled away, whipped a shirt over her head, opened the back door, and let Winston run into the yard.
When she turned back, Chase was propped up on one elbow, sunlight glowing on his skin, an eyebrow cocked.
“Nice view,” he said.
Her stomach flipped. Amazing how he could do that with two words. She let her eyes sweep over his body. “Agreed. Want some coffee?”
“Tea. And only if you promise we can drink it in bed.”
“That I can do.”
She went into the kitchen, acutely aware of the breeze between her legs. This felt so normal, so right. Parading around half naked in front of a man she hardly knew, and it didn’t faze her. He made her feel safe. She was glad he’d come.
They had the tea, made love again, took a shower together. Hungry, they went down to make breakfast. It was a nice day, so after they’d eaten, she suggested they sit outside and get some vitamin D.
They settled on her tiny front porch. Chase threw a stick for Winston, who went mad with the game, making them both laugh.
Chase held her hand. “The other night, you were telling me about the trial. Were you ever afraid you would be found guilty, even though you weren’t?”
“That’s a serious topic for such a lovely day.”
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I was just curious, what it must have been like. I can’t even imagine being falsely accused.”
“It was hell,” she said, remembering. “They didn’t believe me at all, at the beginning.”
Five Years Ago
The cop—his name was Parks—spoke with a southern accent, slow and smooth, trying to keep her calm while getting at the truth. He didn’t believe her. She could tell he didn’t believe her, and the panic welled in her chest once again.
“Mrs. Hamilton, please describe what your husband was wearing to me again.”
“White button-down, khakis, Topsiders with a white sole. I’ve told you this already.”
Aubrey’s voice shifted into monotone. It had been five hours since Josh’s disappearance. Five of the longest hours she’d ever experienced.
“How long has he been gone?”
You know how long. Five motherfucking hours, and you’re just sitting here smirking at me instead of helping me find him.
Aubrey tried to say the words aloud and found them stuck in her throat. Instead, she took a sip of the water the cop placed in front of her and tried again.
“There’s blood all over my house. We need to be looking for him, not sitting here talking. Please, why won’t you listen to me? Why won’t you help?”
The cop looked at her with something that could be interpreted as humor, or could just be a tic that he had, a quirk that made his mouth sneak into a smile when he listened to Aubrey talk. Like he didn’t believe a word of what Aubrey was saying. Like he knew something he wasn’t sharing. Like he thought . . .
“Mrs. Hamilton. Where could he have gone? You say you came to the hotel with him, and he left to join the bachelor party. But no one at the hotel can confirm that you arrived with your husband.”
“This is insane. You’re acting like I have a clue where Josh might be. I don’t. Not at all. I kissed him good-bye at the front desk, in front of the concierge, for God’s sake. Surely he remembers that.”
“The concierge doesn’t remember seeing either one of you.”
Aubrey smacked her hand onto the table, the slap against the wood reverberating in the tiny room. The emotions from the past five hours were sneaking up on her. Never good at pretending she was fine when she wasn’t, Aubrey felt the tears begin to prick at the corners of her eyes. She fought them, knowing it would be a losing battle.
“I do not know where he is. Please. You have to help me.”
Hold it together, Aubrey. Don’t cry in front of this man. He won’t understand.
She couldn’t help it. A tear slipped down her cheek, another. Suddenly she was gushing so hard the cop had the decency to look embarrassed.
“I don’t know where he is,” she managed between sobs. “He would never just leave. He sent me a drink, at the bar, after I texted him that I was bored. I expected him to show up, but he didn’t. That’s all I know. Something has happened to him. Please. You have to help me find him.”
? ? ?
The tears dried up. She hired a lawyer. Told him the story without inflection, or losing control the way she had with the cop.
About the accident. She’d been in the bar. She’d texted Josh. He sent her a drink. He’d never shown.
After an hour of waiting, she’d gone looking for him, ran across Arlo, one of the groomsmen, getting sick in the bushes. She’d helped him, and he told her how upset Sulman was that Josh hadn’t shown for the bachelor party.
She’d panicked. Known instantly something was wrong. It took two hours to convince everyone else.
By then it was too late.