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She began to make excuses for him. As they’d grown closer, as they’d fallen in love—and she had no doubt, at least not until now, that she loved him and believed in her heart he loved her—he might have wanted to tell her everything, but was afraid that if he did, she’d break things off.

And she had to ask herself, had he been honest with her, would she have stayed in the relationship? Would she have moved in with him? Would she have brought her brother into this home?

That had to have been his reasoning. He didn’t want to lose her. He was afraid to tell her.

Of course that was it.

And let’s face it, she thought. It’s not like I’ve told him everything, either. About Tyler, or about myself.

Fifteen

Andrew

I pulled into the driveway, killed the engine, opened the door, and got out slowly. I was feeling a little woozy from my visit to the bar, or maybe it was stress that had thrown me off balance. Either way, I was glad I’d made it home without getting stopped.

I had a feeling my luck was about to run out.

Jayne remained sitting on the front step. Didn’t get up. I could see in her face she knew. I walked over slowly, stood a couple of feet away.

“So,” she asked, deadpan, “how’d it go at Home Depot? You get the weed and feed?”

“No.”

“A trip back to the old neighborhood instead?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And then I kind of drove around for a while.” Didn’t mention my trip up to Trumbull to talk to Greg.

Jayne nodded solemnly.

“Detective Hardy was here,” I said.

“Yes.”

“And she filled you in.”

“Yes.”

I drew in a long breath, let it out slowly. “I’m sorry. I’ll pack up my things right now and get out. You can stay here. Whatever you want, that’s what I’ll do. Or I can just leave right now and you can throw my shit out here onto the lawn. I’ll come back later.”

She put one hand down on the cement to help push herself off the step. I extended a hand to help her up but she didn’t take it.

“I have one question,” she said, a slight tremble in her voice.

Here it was, I thought. I was ready with my answer.

No, I did not kill my wife.

“Okay,” I said.

“If it’s her, if she’s back, what happens to us?”

I blinked. Before I could think of what to say, she had a second question.

“Do you still love her?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question any better than the first one.

“Can we go inside and talk?” I asked.

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