Chapter 30
Juliette
I was beginning to get tired of faking a frown. It wasn’t as hard as faking a smile, but still, there were only so many times I could press my lips together tightly and let out sad, little sighs.
I was at the police station, this time sitting inside of a small, cramped office that belonged to one of the detectives.
Detective Brown. A stack of folders and papers covered the desk in front of me, the windows open to let in the summer breeze.
For the first time in a long time, I was excited about it getting hotter.
“Thank you for coming in at such late notice, Mrs. Cavendish.” Detective Brown gave me a nod. “I can’t even imagine how stressful these last few weeks must have been for you. You must be exhausted. I hope you’re getting the rest you need.”
Letting out a shuddered breath, I nodded. “It’s been difficult to say the least.”
“I understand. I’m sure the last thing you want to do is spend your Friday morning here with me, but I just wanted to give you an update on your husband’s case.”
“You have news?” I perked up in my seat. “You have an update?”
“That’s, uh…” He shifted in his seat a little. “That’s a difficult question unfortunately.”
Part of me felt bad. The detective seemed kind enough. His gray hair was a bit of a mess and his green eyes were drenched with sympathy. He looked tired. Crooked tie, bags under his eyes, sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. Like he had been stuck behind his desk since Gordon was killed.
“I’ve had a hunch about this case from the beginning. Me and a few of my colleagues have all had the same hunch, actually,” he continued. “We think we’ve found the likely reason your husband was killed.”
For a second, I felt a flutter of nervousness. “Please tell me you found the killer.”
Pushing a hand through his hair, he sighed. “Mrs. Cavendish, these types of cases rarely end in anyone being named. Most who know who did it won’t speak up due to ties of loyalty.”
I shook my head. “Loyalty?”
“We think—in fact, we’re certain—your husband was killed due to his ties with the mafia.
Your husband was a defense lawyer, Mrs. Cavendish.
And a very good one at that, but he did work with some…
dangerous characters.” He held a fist to his mouth and coughed.
“I’m sure he didn’t tell you all the details at the dinner table. ”
Oh, but he did. I knew everything. But I sat there, eyes wide as I forced myself to flinch. “About what?”
“It’s a lot to take in. It’s complicated. But… we just want you to be aware of the next steps we’ll be taking.”
“And they are?”
“We unfortunately won’t be able to point the finger at a singular individual. We’re sure this was an organized attack. Your husband was threatened a few weeks prior to his murder. They were warning him that they’d strike. And they did.”
“Threatened?” I gave my head another shake. “Wait, by who? What do you mean?”
“Your husband’s cell phone was called a few times prior to his death,” he explained.
I gasped. “So, you’ve got him, right? You can trace the calls and see who’s responsible?”
He shook his head, offering me a sad smile.
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy. This person knew what he was doing.
They used a burner phone. They called your husband’s office and cell phone.
We were able to locate the burner phone near your house the day after your husband’s murder.
We got some information out of it. Not a lot.
The most we’ve been able to establish is that whoever used that phone made some calls to some people in Russia. ”
Brows knitting together, I did my best to feign confusion. “I don’t understand.”
He tapped his fingers against his desk. “Do you know an… Aleksandr Beketov?”
I kept forcing my frown. “I mean, we had dinner with him a couple times.”
“I’m sure you recall that he was sent to prison not too long ago. Your husband represented him.”
“That was so long ago.”
“We think this was a revenge attack by him and his men. He’s been put away for a long time. It looks like murdering your husband was his family’s preferred form of revenge.”
“That’s so…” I pushed myself to make my lips tremble. Being forced to keep up appearances my whole life had given me an excellent advantage at pretending to be sad that my husband was dead. “You’ll arrest him, right? His family. His… whoever.”
“Almost every person we think could have done it has a solid, airtight alibi,” he explained. “I’m willing to bet this was a contract killer. They’re most likely long gone. They were probably on a plane back home before the cops even showed up that night.”
“Someone has to pay for this, right? My husband was killed.”
“I know, Mrs. Cavendish.” He sighed. “There’s not enough evidence to lay any charges. Not with their alibis.”
“But that means…” I wiped at my eyes. “That’s not fair. Someone killed my husband and they get to live the rest of their life?”
“This isn’t the first case like this. Good men like your husband get mixed up with the underworld all the time.
It’s not his fault. I know you want to see someone punished, but as of right now, there’s not much else we can do.
This must be so hard for you, Mrs. Cavendish.
But look…” He reached across the desk and patted his hand against mine.
“You survived the attack. I’m sure he’d be so proud of you. ”
“I hope so.” I gave him a wet-eyed smile. “You know, we made plans to move out of the city. Things… Things weren’t meant to be this way. There was so much we wanted to do…”
“He would want you to be happy. To live your life. All those dreams? Don’t let them be dreams.” He gave my hand another pat. “Go live them. You’ll find the light one day. I know you will.”
“Thank you,” I said, brushing a finger just under my eye. “And thank you for your time. For… For telling me all of this. As hard as it’s been to hear, in a weird way, it feels like… closure.”
“Is there anything we can do for you?” he asked, head tilting and eyes big. “Just say the word.”
“I… I think right now I just need to heal. Maybe… Maybe go some place far away. Away from all of this. The city, the people, the… everything. I just need to get away.”
“I don’t blame you at all for that.”
“I guess I’ll leave now. I’ve wasted enough of your time.”
“Oh, of course.” He moved to stand up. “Allow me to escort you out.”
“No, that’s okay.” Shaking my head, I swiped my fingers against my eyes before pressing a hand to my chest. “I appreciate all your hard work. Everything you’ve done to try and solve this. Thank you, Detective.”
With one last forced, wistful smile, I spun on my heels and left his office. I was exhausted. How long was a woman supposed to pretend to grieve over their husband?
I kept that same anguished look on my face as I moved through the crowded police station.
Everyone who laid eyes on me sent me that same look I had been getting everywhere: that sad smile, the pained eyes, the solemn nod.
I was so damn bored of it. They were all so concerned about poor Juliette Cavendish and her grief, but my heart had never felt so full, and I had never felt so alive, and as I felt the warm morning air on my skin as I left the police station for what felt like the last time, I knew my life was just getting started.
Gordon Cavendish was dead, but Juliette Ashford was alive.
I walked down the stairs, Chanel heels clicking against the pavement. I couldn’t wait to get rid of them. I couldn’t wait to get rid of the boring, just past the knees dresses I owned. No more looking like the classy, elite housewife.
I was walking fast, still trying to look all wistful and heartbroken.
Too many people knew me in Chicago, but that was all about to change.
I turned a corner and then another one and then one more, and then I spotted the black car that made my heart skip a beat.
It took everything in me to fight back my smile as I pulled open the passenger door and took a seat, giggling softly when I felt Bridger practically drag me into his lap.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he said, kissing at my neck. “You done winning your Oscar, princess?”
My eyes rolled. “It’s so boring having to act sad all the time. But guess what…”
He pulled away from me, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
“Your sneaky little plan seemed to have worked.”
“Yeah?”
“They think Gordon was killed by some scorned Mafia guy. Something about texts and phone calls and threats.”
Bridger grinned. “I gotta buy Bennett some beer. I fuckin’ love that nerd.”
“So…” Butterflies were suddenly there in my stomach. “Where does this leave us now?”
Smile still there on his face, Bridger pushed a hand into his jacket pocket.
He pulled something out, his big hand covering up whatever it was.
With his free hand, he grabbed one of mine and turned it over so that it was palm up.
My eyes stayed locked to his as he pressed something to my skin. Something cold and hard. Metal?
My eyes lowered to see what it was. A singular key with a little green tag attached. I eyed Bridger closely, watching as he let out an uneven breath before I read what was on the tag.
112
Castaway Road
Dare County
Avon, North Carolina
“Avon,” I whispered, my eyes still stuck on the tag. North Carolina. Beach. Ocean. Then my heart thumped in my chest as I met Bridger’s gaze. “Wait…”
“You always wanted that little house by the beach, right? You got one coming right up if you—”
“I love you.” I cut him off. My lips crashed to his and the sound of his chuckle came out low and muffled as our tongues met, all fast and hard and rushed. My hands raked through his hair, giving the strands a little tug. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing some hair behind my ears. “I take it you’re happy then?”
“Beyond happy. But… That means… That means you want to move? All the way to North Carolina?”