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37
“Do you know the detectives who are coming here?” Will asked Charles on Thursday morning.
“Not personally. I talked to a friend from the DA's office who handles a lot of sexual assault and rape cases. We spoke strictly in confidence, of course. It's very likely she'll be handling Georgiana's case, if it comes to that. She said the detectives are top-notch and have a very high arrest-to-conviction rate.”
Will had shocked Charles when he’d called him again yesterday to tell him he recognized the second man in the pictures with Wickham, and had rendered him absolutely speechless when he told Charles that Georgie wanted to try to prosecute them. Charles immediately got to work, reaching out to people he knew could be of assistance and getting the ball rolling.
Will glanced at the clock. “They're supposed to be here in an hour. I'm sure Georgie is nervous as hell, but Matt is with her.”
“He’ll probably be called as a witness, or at least be asked to give a statement.”
“I didn't think of that.”
“That's why Georgie will need a good lawyer, and Maggie Harper is the best. She's compassionate with her clients, but a ruthless prosecutor. She'll be gentle with Georgie, but once she's in the courtroom, watch out.”
“Thanks, Charles. I wouldn't be able to navigate all this without you.”
“No thanks necessary. I'll send you more information, including Maggie's number. She'll want to talk to you after the detectives are done. At that point, you'll have a better idea of the direction you’re headed.”
They talked a little about the storm, and Will told Charles he’d taken a walk down the beach this morning, and assured his friend that his home hadn’t sustained any damage. Thankfully, they’d only lost power for a brief period, and cleanup crews were already out in the neighborhoods, removing fallen tree branches and other debris.
They ended the call, and Will rose from his desk and paced. He was nervous, but was determined to remain composed for Georgie’s sake. He stared at his guitars, lined up on their stands. Three of the stands were empty; one of his guitars, his favorite in fact, was at Elizabeth's house. The other two were in Boston.
He reached for one and lifted it from its stand. The Takamine had a rich, warm sound, and as he lightly strummed the strings, a calmness settled over him. He played different chords and rifts and was able, for a short time, to break away from real life.
But reality intruded soon enough, in the form of memories of time spent with Elizabeth. He smiled when he remembered one afternoon in particular, when he’d attempted to teach her some basic chords. He sat behind her on her bed and wrapped his arms around her while she held the guitar. He looked over her shoulder and tried to position her fingers on the strings and frets, but she kept kissing and nipping at his neck and jaw, and he’d laughingly given up. She told him then that she'd much rather watch him play than learn herself.
He wondered if he would ever have the chance to play for her again, and a voice of defeat demanded to be heard, telling him it wouldneverhappen again. She was gone for good, apologies be damned.
Disgusted with himself, he dropped the guitar back into its stand and left his office.
By eleven thirty, he stood in the foyer with two officers from the Boston Crime Lab Unit. Georgiana remained seated on the couch in the living room, holding Matt’s hand. Will led the detectives in and introduced them to Georgiana and Matt.
“Miss Darcy,” one of the detectives began, “we'd like you to recount the details of what happened on New Year’s Eve, as best you can. We'll start there, okay?”
Georgiana glanced at Will, who nodded in encouragement, and then at Matt.
“Take your time,” the detective said.
Georgiana took a deep breath and began.
* * *
“So now,here I am. Confused. Sad.” Elizabeth paused. “Angry.”
She’d relayed every detail of what had transpired, from the moment Will had left her in the hospital until he showed up on her deck Tuesday afternoon—even telling her aunt about Lydia’s role in the debacle.
“He tried to explain what his thoughts were, as best as he could, but there's something more there, something he hasn't been able to figure out.”
“There's always more we can learn about ourselves, isn't there? He's trying.”
Elizabeth studied her aunt. “What are you saying?”
“I'm just pointing out the obvious. He broke your heart. He knows it, and now he's trying to repair it.”
“I don't know if it's repairable.”
“And you've told him that.”
