“Did you solve that murder yet?” Grayson asked.
I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept that night—couldn’t sleep, just stared at the pdfs on my laptop, stewing about the past, unsatisfied with whatever karma the universe had decided to hand out.
Living well is its own reward.
But it didn’t feel rewarding.
“I—no,” I said, rubbing my eyes, and poured myself another cup of the bitter coffee still out after breakfast had ended. “I think I’m going to go back early to New York.”
“Your aunt will kill you,” Grayson said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “She’s hoping to convince you to find a nice girl, stay in Harrogate. The prodigal son returns. Did you take Emmie out to dinner yet?”
“More than that,” I said, staring blankly out over the empty tables of the dining room.
“So he has found a reason to stay in Harrogate after all. And they say no good deed goes unpunished. All that pro bono work finally paid off.”
“Yeah.”
“Marius, rescuer of stray cats and damsels in distress.”
Emmie wasn’t a damsel in distress. Oh, she played one all right, but in the restaurant,
she hadn’t been just angry. Hers was a vengeful, righteous fury.
In the cold light of the morning, after a sleepless night, my brain must have worked overtime on it because it made perfect sense.
“I think I know,” I said slowly.
“What?”
“The murderer. I missed all the signs.”
“But it’s always the person you least expect,” Grayson said.
“No. It’s always the person youmostsuspect. Emmie killed her husband. She had means, motive, and opportunity. She had access to the drugs from her grandmother to kill Brooks. She gets revenge on her cheating husband and millions of dollars. She’s the obvious suspect.”
“You said she was innocent.” Grayson’s voice had lost any sort of softness. He was in pure ruthless-billionaire mode.
“I changed my assessment.”
“Then get rid of her. Cut all ties with her,” he ordered. “I know you said you were falling for her, but don’t. If Emmie is the killer, you cannot be associated with her. My company cannot be dragged into this mayhem. Come back to Manhattan. Now.”
I leaned back in my chair stared at the rapidly cooling coffee.
I should go pack. Should just leave.
What if I was wrong?
What if I was right?
If it were an employee of Richmond Electric, I’d advise them to cut off someone they’d only known a week if there was even a chance they could be a murderer.
I should never have gotten involved with Emmie and definitely should never have slept with her.
A chair scraped again the wood floor.
Emmie sat down next to me, anxiously twisting her hands in her lap. “How are you doing? I’m going to the Santa Claws Café, but I can send some food over for you.” She reached out a tentative hand to stroke my cheek.
I jerked away. “I’m going back to New York City.”
