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“Hard to say, but a murder did take place on her front lawn and now it turns out it’s her boss.” Anderson shrugs. “So I don’t think we can completely eliminate the possibility.”
Oh great. So now, on top of everything else, I have to pretend to be worried about Nora’s safety. Obviously if Nora were actually in danger, you could bet your last dollar I’d be worried. But since she’s the murderer we’re after, I have no cause for fear. It’s not like she’s going to murder herself.
Unfortunately, having to act all concerned and extra attentive to her is not going to help me stay in control of my feelings for her. Concerned husbands watch over their wives…and they keep their eyes on them at all times…and they dote on them.
I’m supposed to be working on not doting on her, darn it.
And staring at her less. That’s also on my to do list.
Now I have to throw away said to do list and be a freaking loving husband.
In that vein I reach over and put an arm around Nora. “Nothing is going to happen to her on my watch,” I declare, sounding like I belong in The Incredibles movie. Next I’ll be putting my underwear on over my pants then standing with fisted hands on my hips as my cape blows ominously in the breeze behind me.
“Awww.” Lucy, of course, finds this whole charade to be touching.
“So back to your place, Reynolds?” Anderson asks. He takes his keys out of his pocket, jiggling them expectantly.
“Yeah, okay.” Annoyance makes the words come out as a grunt. That’s right, I’m annoyed with my partner. I rake a hand through my hair, frustrated by this realization. Anderson is just doing his job. He’s a good detective. Did I really think that he would just skip over talking to Nora?
“We’ll be right behind you,” Montgomery announces as Stafford steps up next to him.
“We’re coming too,” Lucy says quickly, grabbing Emily by the elbow and beckoning Mel over.
“I really don’t think it’s necessary for everyone to come to my house,” I tell them, but they all wave away my protests.
“Reynolds, we have to go to support Nora,” Emily explains, talking to me like I’m a 5-year-old from her Intro to Martial Arts class.
“I’ll follow behind in my car too,” Mel says from her new spot next to Lucy.”
Wow, a five-car caravan. We might as well be Ian’s funeral procession. Not that the man deserves one after what he did.
“There’s no point in arguing with us,” Montgomery tells me. “We’re all going to show up whether you want us to or not. Don’t worry, though, once the interview is done we’ll get out of your hair. Give you some privacy.”
I know he’s right, but I’m not upset about it from a privacy standpoint. I’m upset about the fact that the emotion I’ve been working so hard to hold off since my friends appeared on the scene has now clawed its way to the surface— guilt.
It hits me hard and fast like a punch straight to the gut, sucking away all my air and leaving me with a permanent ache.
I’m lying to them. All of them. And the worst part is that Anderson seems to know it—maybe not the specifics, but he knows something is off—and he’s still here supporting us.
No, actually, the real worst part is that despite my guilt I know that this is how things have to be. For Nora and for them. Telling them the truth would only incriminate them in our lies.
This is just how it has to be. All I can do at this point is pray that the murder never gets traced back to Nora so we can all move on with our lives.
Wordlessly I nod my head at Montgomery, then head over to my car with Nora in silence. I open her door then hurry around to mine, settling myself in the driver’s seat and fighting the urge to rest my forehead against the steering wheel and scream. I need to keep my composure. I can’t let Nora see how this is all affecting me.
“Maybe we should tell them,” Nora says as we drive out of the lot.
“Tell them?” I echo in disbelief.
“Yeah. It’s obvious you’re upset about lying to them.” It’s obvious? How is it possible that something I’ve been concentrating on hiding from her is apparently nonetheless obvious? “And like you said, Anderson and Mel already seem to know that something is up.”
“So your plan is to what? Tell them and hope they don’t arrest you on the spot? Or, what, do you think they’ll want to join in on the coverup? Make themselves all culpable?”
Nora flushes. “No. I mean, I don’t know.” She sits back against her seat with a thump. “Fine. We can’t tell them. I know that. I just—” she breaks off and when I look over at her she’s staring listlessly out the window.
“You just what?” I prompt in a far gentler tone.
She rotates my way then inhales deeply through her nose, rushing out the words with her exhale, “I just hate that I’m coming between you and your friends.
