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Heart pounding now, she moved to the next photo. She was seated at an outdoor table. Where? She recognized the place. Acme Feed & Seed, one of her top lunch spots when she was at the DA’s office. She sat facing the camera, though the shot was obviously taken from somedistance with a telescoping lens. She didn’t need to see the face of the man at the table with her. It was Matt. His sandy-blond hair and pale-blue suit jacket were sufficient evidence.
There were more. Images taken of her before Derrick. Beforethatnight.
No comments on the backs of the printed photos. Nothing.
Just moments in time captured on film for reasons she couldn’t grasp.
Why? What had he been doing? Her outrage sparked. Did it matter? He was dead.
Some other emotion she refused to name kicked the outrage aside. It mattered to her, damn it.
She stuffed the photographs back into the plastic and pushed to her feet. Should she have any fingerprints she hadn’t smeared by her examination lifted for evidence? Why bother? Clearly her husband had hidden the photos inhissofa cushion. Who else would have put them there?
She tossed the bag onto the counter and set her hands on her hips. She was tired. So very, very tired. Tired of all the questions. Tired of not having any answers. Just tired.
The emotion came from out of nowhere with such ferocity that she almost lost her balance.
Tears spilled over her lashes.
What the hell? She swiped at them.
Finley O’Sullivan wasn’t a crier.
The angrier she grew, the wider the floodgates opened. Her body shook with the force of the emotions pounding her.
No. No. Damn it, no! She was stronger than this.
The surge kept coming until she had to brace herself against the counter.
Derrick had loved her. Hadn’t he?
She was an idiot. How had she been such a fool?
Why the hell had she ever trusted him? Why the hell had she fallen so deeply in love with him? Because her mother hadn’t approved? Had her need to go against her mother pushed her over some boundary where common sense or self-care no longer existed?
A firm knock on her front door echoed through the house. Then another.
She ignored the intrusion. She was on a roll here. How had she been so utterly oblivious to what had been happening around her?
Had the need to prove her mother wrong somehow blinded her to what was real? Damn it, she was savvier than that, wasn’t she? How had she allowed her mother to hold such power over her? She was an independent woman. Every bit as full of determination as her mother was.
Except she was falling apart.
More pounding on the door.
“Fin?”
Matt.
Reality shook her. It was Matt. He was at her door.
She swiped at the tears still pouring down her cheeks. Damn Derrick. Damn her. Damn the Judge.
Finley stormed through the house and wrenched open the door.
Matt’s gaze locked with hers for a long moment, and then he surveyed her. “Fin, what’s going on?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She couldn’t articulate all the feelings gushing through her.
