Page 37 of Keeping Denver

Fifteen minutes later, we pull up in front of Frances's home. I look at Spencer, who is sitting in the driver's seat. "Frances insisted. They have been worried sick." I don't get a chance to protest. Quite frankly, I don't want to. Spencer climbs out, and walks around his car, then opens my door. By the time I step out, Frances and her husband are waiting at their front door, worry etched on their faces.

Frances pulls me in for a tight hug. "Oh, dear. I'm so sorry this happened." She then ushers me inside with Spencer following behind. "Let's get you warmed up. How about some coffee, and breakfast?"

"Just some coffee is fine. I'm not hungry," I tell her.

"Let's all go sit at the kitchen table. Richard and I have something we'd like to discuss with the two of you," Frances says, looking between Spencer and me.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom first?"

"Go right ahead." Frances gives me a warm smile, her eyes looking tired.

Stepping into the bathroom, I brace my palms against the sink and take three deep breaths. My nose starts to sting as tears threaten to fall, and try with all I have to hold them back but fail. Stumbling to the tub, my legs give out and I fall to my bottom. I don't know how long I sit propped up against the cold bathtub crying before a soft knock at the door draws my attention. "Denver, are you okay?" Spencer asks. He knocks again when I fail to answer. "I'm coming in." The bathroom door pushes open. "Shit." He drops down to one knee in front of me.

"I don't know how I can get through this, Spencer. Yesterday I woke up in the arms of the man I love, who I thought cared about me, and this morning I woke up in a jail cell—no more Callan. No home. No job." I look up at Spencer. "I don't know where to go from here."

Spencer reaches for a washcloth sitting on the sink, runs hot water over it, then starts wiping my tears and day-old makeup from my face. "I promise everything is going to work out, Denver." Spencer makes a few more passes across my cheeks with the cloth before he tosses it on the counter. "Come on. Up you go." He holds out his hand, and I take it, allowing him to pull me off the cold bathroom floor.

"Anyone ever tell you how sweet you are, Spencer? Instead of taking Callan's side, you’re here, with me, wiping the tears and snot from my face." I sniffle.

"Callan is my best friend, but he fucked up this time. I know it. You know it, and someday soon, he'll realize it too. Which I'm willing to bet is going to be sooner rather than later."

"It doesn't matter, Spencer. The damage is done. I don't think I can forgive him." I hiccup. "If you'd seen the way he looked at me yesterday…" I shake my head. "I begged him, Spencer. I begged him to believe me."

Spencer's face softens. "I'm sorry, Denver. But I know Callan, and I'm willing to bet my life he's in love with you." He kisses the top of my head. "Let's go out here and see what Frances and Richard have to say. Okay?"

I nod, and try to fix my hair. "Okay."

Fifteen minutes and one cup of coffee later, I sit stunned at the kitchen table as Frances and Richard tell Spencer and me their theory on how Kelly's wallet and her jewelry found their way inside my purse. "Fuck." Spencer leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

I look at Frances. "You believe Kelly planted everything?"

"Oh, I know she did. The scarf the police found my necklace wrapped in belongs to Kelly. When I first saw it, I thought it looked familiar but couldn't place where I had seen it before. It wasn't until an hour after your arrest it dawned on me. She was wearing it the day she brought those files to my house. You remember the night you and Callan came over for dinner?" I give Frances a nod, and she continues. "I had left the office early that day and forgot them. Kelly was all too eager to stop by my house with them. She was wearing that scarf when she arrived."

I shake my head. "Kelly can claim I stole the scarf along with the wallet."

Spencer sits forward, jumping in. "Frances. Did Kelly enter the residence when she dropped by?"

"She did. She asked to use the bathroom."

"Son of a bitch," Spencer hisses.

I look at him. "So, Kelly knew I was going to be here with Callan last Saturday, and you're saying she conveniently offered to bring you the files. When she asked to use the restroom, she swiped the necklace, and planted it in my purse?"

Frances places her hand on her hip. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"I knew Kelly hated me. She's never been shy about it, or stating she wanted me gone, but to do this?" It makes no sense." Yet it does. I lean back in my chair.

"It makes perfect fucking sense. I bet you money Kelly did this shit at the advice of Joslyn."

"Joslyn?" My brow scrunches. "What does Callan's ex have to do with anything?"

"Joslyn and Kelly are friends. They went to college together and are sorority sisters." Spencer stands from the table.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"I'm going to fix this shit."

I stand too. "Can you still drop me at a hotel?"