Chapter 9
Dahlia
I got an alert that someone was at my door. Pulling up the footage, I saw Detective Walker standing on my porch. Kris must have told her that Alex worked with Kevin, and now she most likely wanted to ask him some questions.
I slowly drove down my street, looking for any sign of Detective Walker’s car. I didn’t see it, so I pulled into the garage and quickly shut the door. She would most likely come back later to talk to Alex. I couldn’t let her see me, so I needed to come up with a plan.
I heard the front door open.
“Dahlia?” Alex called my name.
“Upstairs.” I gripped the covers.
Within moments, he appeared in my bedroom doorway.
“Dahlia, what’s wrong?” He walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down.
“I think I have the flu. I’ve been throwing up for the past couple of hours. It hit me out of nowhere.”
He placed the back of his hand on my forehead.
“You don’t feel warm, so that’s good.”
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
“Who could that be?” Alex asked. “You stay in bed and get some rest.” His lips pressed against my forehead. “I’ll go see who it is.”
As soon as he left the room, I threw back the covers and stepped into the hallway.
“Professor Alex Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, I’m Detective Paige Walker with the NYPD. I would like to ask you a couple of questions regarding Kevin Hadley.”
“Of course. But I don’t understand why the NYPD is involved?”
“The case has similarities to one I was working on in New York.”
“Come in.”
I quietly walked down a couple of stairs, sat, and listened to their conversation as they sat in the living room.
“Did Kevin tell you he was having an affair?”
“He did. I tried to get him to break it off before he destroyed his marriage, but he wouldn’t,” Alex told her. “What does him having an affair have to do with his murder?”
“Did you tell anyone at all about his affair?”
Careful, Alex. Think. Think.
“No. It wasn’t my place to tell anyone.”
Good boy.
“Not even your girlfriend?” Detective Walker asked.
“No. As I said, it wasn’t my place to tell anyone.”
“Is your girlfriend home?”
“She’s upstairs sleeping. She has the flu.”
“I see. Did Kevin ever mention to you that he felt like someone was watching him?”
“No. He never mentioned anything like that.”
“Do you think someone killed Kevin because of his affair?” Detective Walker asked.
“I have no idea. Why would anyone even care enough? A lot of people cheat, Detective. But they don’t end up dead. The case you were working on in New York. Were the victims all cheaters?”
“They were,” Detective Walker said. “But I’m afraid that’s all I can say.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Whitmore.”
Alex walked her to the door, and I went back to bed. A few moments later, Alex stepped into the bedroom.
“Who was at the door?” I asked.
“A detective from the NYPD. She wanted to ask me questions about Kevin. She said his murder was similar to a case she was working on in New York.”
“That’s odd,” I said.
“How are you feeling?” He ran his finger down my cheek.
“A little better. I’d love some soup.”
“And soup I shall make you.” He winked. “Oh, by the way. The contractors called me today and said my house will be finished in a couple of days. I can’t wait for you to see it.” He smiled. “I’ll go make your soup.”
Good. That meant he wouldn’t be living here anymore.
It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy having him around.
I did. More than I cared to admit. But somewhere along the way since he’d been here, my house had stopped feeling like mine.
His literature books were neatly stacked on the coffee table.
His clothes occupied my closet. His shoes were neatly lined up by the front door, and his toiletries were stored in my bathroom.
One overnight stay became three. Then it became a week.
And another week. Before I knew it, he’d been living here for three months.
I’d missed my own space. I missed the silence.
But most of all, I missed not having to think, wondering if I’d slip and say too much.
And now having to hide pieces of myself that no one could ever discover.
As far as Alex was concerned, I lived in Seattle most of my life.
I had to keep up that facade. Loving Alex, or whatever it was I felt for him, didn’t erase who I was.
It only made protecting that part of myself more complicated.
His moving back into his own house solved that.
We’d still see each other. I’d spend the night at his place, and he here.
But I needed to be alone. And after everything that had happened recently, alone was exactly where my mind needed to be.