Over the many years that he’d been a detective, Coulter had seen and heard things that would give others nightmares, and in all that time he’d never met anyone like Paul Lewis before.
“Your truck, Detective,” Paul added, which got Coulter’s attention. “At first, I didn’t want you showing up in Port Jude, which I knew you would at some stage because the warrant had been signed by the governor. I knew you’d show up asking questions. I was stupid with the bomb, and inept as it turned out, for which I’m grateful because it was premature of me when you’re the one I expected to get Quinten out of prison. I knew he wasn’t guilty, but I figured everyone was safe as long as he was in prison. I didn’t want him to die though. That would be wrong.”
Coulter was tired of Paul and the case. He needed some fresh air, and Amber, to clear his head.
He stood and shoved his chair under the table. “Why, Paul? Why kill those women within hours after they’d been with Alex?” That was one thing that had been on his mind.
Paul looked up and held his gaze. “Because Alex is the evil brother...not Quinten. I wanted to lead you to him but you never once thought that he killed anyone. I must have done something wrong to set him up, huh? I won’t make that mistake again.”
Coulter left and sagged against the wall outside of the room. Paul Lewis wouldn’t get a next time. He was totally, utterly crazy.
Day 21
3:00pm
* * *
Quinten clutched Saige’s hand in his as they rode the elevator up to Saige’s apartment in Tampa. He’d been nervous to leave the beach house and the wide-open space of the beach and ocean for an apartment building in the much larger city—he hated it.
If it hadn’t been for the report from Dr. Erikson, then he doubted they’d have come back so soon. But here they were and he tried to keep his apprehension to himself, although with the quick glances Saige kept giving him, he didn’t think he succeeded.
She squeezed his hand, and smiled as the doors of the elevator opened and they stepped out.
“We’re right here,” Saige said, and opened the door.
He was surprised at the wide-open layout of the apartment when they stepped inside. Floor to ceiling glass walls along two sides of the apartment opened it up even more, and he could see Tampa stretching out on the horizon to the ocean. Everything was in white and pastel, but it was the brown, leather chair that held his gaze. It was so out of contrast to the rest of the apartment that he smiled to himself.
“The chair”—she smiled, and wrapped her arm around his waist—“something told me I had to bring it with me. Now that I have my memories back, I’m glad I did.”
“I am as well. We really got to know each other on that chair.” Quinten smiled, and bent his head to kiss Saige on the top of hers. Not only had they spent time talking, but he sat in that chair with Saige in his lap every night for a month in frustration—every smile, every touch, had affected him deeply.
Movement from the corner of his eye, drew his attention.
Saige lifted her head, but kept her arm around his waist. “Tamsyn, I wasn’t sure if you were home.”
He frowned because the other woman didn’t look too friendly, and his suspicion was confirmed when Saige moved further away from him—her fingers intertwining with his.
“What’s wrong?” Saige asked.
Tamsyn disappeared and a minute later returned with two large suitcases. “I’m sorry to do this, Saige, but I’ve found somewhere else to live. I know how it looks and I guess you’d be right.” Tamsyn glanced at Quinten and back to Saige. “I didn’t want to move. I love living here and we get on well, it’s just that I can’t stand the constant harassment every time I leave the apartment. The press wants to know where you are. How you’ve been living? If your memory loss was real? I can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry.”
Tamsyn tugged the cases to the door and turned back to Quinten. “I’m glad you’re both back together...I’m sorry.” She left.
“You okay?” Quinten glanced at Saige’s stunned expression.
“I can’t believe she left.” Saige bit her bottom lip, and he reached out and rescued it from her teeth with his finger. “We were friends, not best friends, but...” she sighed and he saw tears shimmering in her eyes. Then she shook her head and said, “At least we have the place to ourselves.” She smiled and shrugged. “C’mon, I’ll give you a tour.”
He followed Saige and tried to hide the panic that had started to build inside of him. He’d never been claustrophobic before but he had a feeling that that was what was wrong with him. The large windows in the main part of the apartment had views of other apartment buildings, and the other side the ocean. He spotted the lounge chairs on the balcony, and he knew where he’d be coaxing Saige to sleep tonight.
* * *
10:00pm
* * *
Saige worried with Quinten having sat out on the balcony since they’d reached her apartment hours ago. He’d made all the right noises as she showed him around, but now she felt that something was off with him.