AllFreeNovel
Share Us
6
AFTER THEY SLIP INTO BED AN HOUR LATER, TOM PRESSEShis body against Emma’s and runs his fingers through her hair, indicating that despite how fatigued he must be from his trip, he’s open to sex tonight. She knows he wouldn’t be offended if she begged off, but she doesn’t. Maybe, she thinks, this is exactly what she needs to finally chase the main event of the day from her mind.
And it works. Tom’s not only a skillful, generous lover, but her physical attraction to him is fierce, something she first sensed at the meeting in his office but knew for certain when he took hold of her hand a few weeks later, sending a rush of desire through every inch of her. Tonight, she’s able to lose herself in pleasure, banishing her unease to parts unknown, and afterward, she drifts off to sleep easily in his arms.
But dread sneaks back during the night like a jackal, and Emma wakes around five thirty with a pit in her stomach anda dull thickness in her limbs. Maybe, she muses, Webster’s visit was strictly routine, a necessary step in the reopening of the case, and this will be the last she hears from her. Yet her gut tells her not to be a fool, that she’s bound to be back.
And she’s even more convinced now that it had been a big, fat mistake to allow Webster into the house without Peter Dunne present or, at the very least, to not summon the nerve to call things off the second she realized the visit wasn’t a simple “update.” She doesn’t think she said anything stupid, but with the police you can never be sure. Had Webster seen the sweat blooming on her hands or noticed how stilted some of her answers were, especially the ones about her marriage to Derrick?
She tries for a while to drift back to sleep, but eventually surrenders, knowing it’s hopeless. With Tom snoring lightly beside her, Emma slips out of bed and pads downstairs to the kitchen. After opening her laptop on the island, she types “Tobias, Hershfield, and Dunne” into the search bar. She’s wasted enough time kicking herself. Though she had planned to wait until Monday to reach out to Dunne, she decides for her peace of mind to do it today.
As she tossed and turned this morning, it had occurred to her that her fiftysomething lawyer might no longer be available. During one of their last consultations, he’d mentioned in passing that he’d hoped to retire early and split his time between Palm Beach and a house in Ireland—probably a castle, if what he charges is any indication. She’d exchanged a few emails with him since then, alerting him to her upcoming marriage to Tom and then her new address, but the last was close to a year ago.
She’s in luck though. A quick perusal of the firm’s website confirms that, thankfully, Dunne is still practicing.
Emma had known Peter Dunne was the right choice the instant she took a seat on the other side of his sleek wooden desk. He was smart and self-possessed, and though he exuded a preternatural calm, she suspected he could turn ferocious when necessary. He listened calmly as she described her predicament, and there was no doubt in her mind that he was paying strict attention—carefully assessing her, taking measure. And surely, she assumed, trying to decide if she might actually be responsible for her husband’s death.
She opens her email and types:Hello Mr. Dunne, Emma Hawke here. They’ve reopened the murder case and I need to speak to you as soon as possible. Could you call me first thing Monday at the number below?
“Hey, sweetheart, what are you doing up so early?”
Emma turns her head to find Tom in the doorway, already dressed in jeans and a heather-colored Henley.
“I must have had one too many iced teas yesterday and I didn’t sleep well. I always make that mistake at the beginning of summer.”
He comes up behind her and gives her shoulders a few squeezes. That’s one of the things Emma loves about Tom—how physically affectionate he is, and especially when he senses she’s in need of his touch.
“Still tense, huh? I hope you’re not letting this detective business eat at you.”
“No, but I did just shoot an email to Peter Dunne. I already feel better.”
“Good. I’m sure he’ll tell you have nothing to worry about.”
He crosses the room and fills the coffee machine with water. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. It’s not supposed to rain after all—want to take the bikes out for a ride and then grab lunch in town?”
“I’d love to,” she says. Surely, a ride will distract her. Tom probably suggested it since he knows how much she loves to be on her bike, shooting along a path with her legs pumping hard and her hair blowing back, then taking it slow on certain stretches and savoring whatever nature wants to show off that day.
“Does ten work?” Tom asks. “I want to head over to the car wash first.”
“Perfect.”
She closes her laptop and fixes them each a buttered bagel as Tom pours two mugs of coffee. Once they’re finished, Tom helps clear and then grabs his car keys from a basket. Emma promises to have the bikes out by the time he returns.
“Oh wait, what about Brittany?” she asks, suddenly remembering. “This will leave her on her own all day.”
“She’s actually not due back until around three.”
“You heard from her?”
“Yeah, she texted me before I came downstairs this morning.”
This is Brittany’s M.O., Emma reflects. Tom is looped in at all times, and she’s solely on a need-to-know basis. Butmaybe that’s for the best. “Gotcha. Well, I’m glad she’s made a friend at work.”
“Yes, me, too. As you know, she can seem a bit standoffish.... Okay, I’d better get a move on.”
As Tom disappears into the garage, Emma considers how much she admires his attitude about his stepdaughter. He’s not blind to her flaws, but he’s also incredibly sympathetic to how much change she’s gone through in her young life and the grief she still feels over Diana, who was not only a very successful eye doctor but by all accounts a loving parent. He’s committed to staying in his stepdaughter’s life and trying to make Emma a part of it, too.
When he and Emma got engaged, Brittany was in her first year at the University of New Hampshire, and they booked a weekend getaway at a nearby inn so they could all meet for lunch.
