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“We were just about to open a bottle of wine.” Jackson popped his head out of the kitchen to lift a glass questioningly. “Want some?”
“Please.” Eloise sank down on the couch and waited, arms wrapped tight around her torso as she stared at the view out their front window. Her house and Ethan’s, side by side. A pretty picture—but then pictures never showed you what lurked beneath the surface.
“This looks like a serious visit.” David took his glass from Jackson and handed the next one to her before settling back in his chair. “Spill.”
“It’s about Ethan.”
“What else?” Jackson sat on the arm of David’s chair and watched her knowingly. “You two were bound to have a fight eventually and the first one’s always rough.”
“It’s not exactly a fight.” Now that she was here, the whole thing seemed so hard to explain. “It’s just … I think he might have done something terrible. No, that’s not quite right … Unless it is? Maybe it is.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“It’s about Kim.”
“Your friend? The one that …” Jackson looked at David and gave a gentle cough. “You know?”
“Yes.” She wiped away a tear as it escaped. “I think he might have been involved somehow.”
“Oh.” Jackson tipped his glass and swallowed the contents in one gulp. “Drink up and I’ll get the rest of the bottle. I think we’re all going to need it.”
They sat quietly as she explained what she’d found and how it connected Ethan to Kim in the days before her murder. No one could come up with a reason why she might have been at a shady bar halfway across town unless she knew someone that worked there. It wasn’t the kind of place she was known to frequent in her spare time and the odds of it being a coincidence seemed slim to none.
“It does seem strange,” David mused. “I think you need to talk to him but I’ve got to tell you, I just don’t think he had anything to do with her death. Maybe he mentioned the bar to her at some point and she decided to check it out.”
“Why would she do that? When?”
“I don’t know about when but maybe he convinced her they sell the world’s best cheeseburger or have a fantastic karaoke night.” Jackson lifted a brow when they both turned to him with skeptical expressions. “Hey, you never know! The point is there could be any number of reasons and they don’t all have to mean he’s involved in this whole thing.”
“But what if he is?”
“If that man has done a single thing that would hurt you, I’ll eat my hat.”
“But—”
“Sorry,” David cut in. “He’s right. Ethan is so clearly in love with you, I don’t think he could do something that would hurt you. I don’t think he’s a murderer, either, he just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that could do that to a woman, and he definitely isn’t going to hurt you.”
“He’s not in love with me,” Eloise said quickly. “He’s never said that.”
“I’ve never said I’m not a velociraptor,” David shot back. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
“That’s … That’s not the same?—”
“It’s exactly the same. You don’t have to say a thing for it to be true.”
“Can’t you tell from the way he looks at you?” Jackson was staring at her with something that might have been pity. “It’s written all over his face.”
“I don’t know …” She’d made it a point to avoid talking about her family with anyone and they didn’t know how cold her mother had always been, not just toward her daughter but her husband, too. Her father was hardly any better, he’d been distant and uninvolved for as long as she could remember. There had been plenty of obligations in the house she’d grown up in, but very little love.
“Well, I know, and I say he’s in love with you.” Jackson nodded once, like his decision had settled the matter for everyone involved. “I know love when I see it.”
Eloise didn’t doubt that last bit. He was completely devoted to his husband and the two of them were always a united front against any problem. Even now, sharing a single chair and an identical judgmental look, they were a perfect example of domestic tranquility.
“Talk to him and find out what he has to say about all of this,” David advised. “I think he deserves the chance to offer up an explanation.”
“And, regardless of what he says, just because she was at the bar, doesn’t necessarily mean that had anything to do with her death. The odds of it being a coincidence may seem small but it’s not an impossibility.”
“Right.” Eloise fiddled with her wine glass. “I guess I was just letting all of this get to me.”
