Chapter Nine #2
Chance stared at the table a moment before meeting her gaze once more.
“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” he began, “but everyone has a darker side, maybe not very dark, but a little unpleasant at the very least. Everyone has bad thoughts occasionally. Everyone makes mistakes. What I’m finding in the statements and hearing from you is that Pete seemed perfect, and we both know that’s not possible. ”
Rory wanted to shout at him. To shake him. Something to make him see that he simply didn’t understand. Pete was this amazing and, yes, perfect guy. He was so nice. So sweet. She couldn’t explain it. He just was.
When she’d tamped down the initial reaction, she said, “I understand what you’re saying.
But it’s true. Pete and I started dating, and two months later we moved in together.
Four months after that, we got married. Six months.
I knew him for six months. I lived with him for four of those months.
Don’t you think if he had any sort of dark side, I would have seen at least a glimpse of it? ”
“Maybe.” He smiled, the expression sad. “Understand that I have to ask these questions. There is a reason this happened. A motive. If Pete hadn’t crossed anyone and you hadn’t crossed anyone, that leaves only two options—a random act of violence for nothing other than the thrill of the kill, or the one Detective Fowler believes. ”
That Rory killed her husband.
Emotions swelled and knotted inside her. “Well, we can cross out that last one, because I did not kill my husband.”
He nodded. “Okay. Let’s move on. The next anomaly we need to consider is why you were left alive.”
She clasped her fingers together to prevent picking at her cuticles or some other nervous fidgeting.
“I’ve asked myself that a million times.
I was in and out of consciousness, so I can only assume something happened to make them leave before they could kill me.
I wasn’t bleeding anywhere. I had no broken bones.
Just bruises and scratches and a concussion.
Obviously I was in no danger of dying. They had to understand that was the case. ”
That part—her being left alive—remained a total mystery to her. She often wondered if it would have been easier if she’d died too.
Don’t even go there.
Chance rubbed a hand over his jaw, cupped his chin for a moment.
“Are you certain Pete had nothing from work with him? Nothing of value that you may not have known about, like a jump drive or file or key to a safety deposit box? Something the intruders came for but didn’t want it to be obvious.
That’s what the break-in was about. It’s possible the intrusion wasn’t about the two of you at all, but something related to the business or the Harris family. ”
A frown tugged at her. “I suppose that’s possible, but why wouldn’t Anthony bring it up during the investigation? He loved his son. I can’t imagine that he wouldn’t do everything possible to uncover who killed him.”
“Except,” Chance countered, “Anthony and Eudora thought they had their killer.”
Her shoulders sagged. “True.” Not only had she been falsely accused, but she was likely the reason they hadn’t looked further for the real killer.
“I want you,” Chance urged, “to think about that scenario. Try and recall if Pete mentioned anything about an issue with a business contract or negotiation or a person related to work. Or some big coup or change coming.”
“Okay. I will say, though,” she offered, “that he rarely talked about work unless it was something he wanted to celebrate with me. Whatever problems the business had, he left at work. He said his father had been bad to bring work issues home, and Pete never wanted to do that to me.”
Chance chuckled. “You’re right. I’m beginning to think the guy was perfect.”
Rory inhaled a big breath. This next part wouldn’t be so easy. Not that any of it was, really. But some parts were admittedly harder than others. Like going back to White Cottage.
“You said you had a copy of the autopsy report.” She held her breath in an effort to slow the frantic beating of her heart. This was a part she never liked thinking about.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “But I don’t think you want to look at it. There’s just one image that I would like you to see, and I can arrange for that one to lessen the impact.”
“Okay.” She wouldn’t argue. She had no desire to see the accompanying photos or to read the cold, somber descriptions of her husband’s injuries.
He tapped a few keys and then turned the screen around for her to see.
She blinked, studied the image closer. This was her husband’s neck, the left side, she decided.
True to his word, Chance had resized the image so that nothing except a patch of skin was visible.
Her heart ached just knowing that this was part of him…
that the rest of the image likely showed his dead body.
“You see these marks?” Chance tapped the screen.
She steadied herself and looked more closely. There were two small circular marks. Reddish in color. There was some amount of bruising on the skin around them. “What are those?”
“Taser marks,” Chance explained. “See the bruising?” He tapped the screen again. “You only get that when whoever is holding the Taser presses it really hard into the skin.”
Rory flinched. “But there was nothing mentioned about a Taser. I didn’t own a Taser, and neither did Pete.”
“Even stranger,” Chance pointed out as he closed the laptop, “there is no mention of those marks anywhere in the ME’s report.”
Rory swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “But that shouldn’t have been left out, right? I mean, it’s relevant to the overall condition of the…body, if not to the cause of death.”
“That is exactly right.”
“When…” She moistened her lips. “When the photo isn’t blown up the way you showed it to me, are the marks still easy to see? Maybe he missed them. I’m pretty sure the medical examiner is an older man.”
Chance smiled patiently. “The ME’s job is to find the smallest anomaly. He wouldn’t have missed anything. I imagine he has an assistant who helped. In my opinion, he either left it out on purpose, or whoever typed the final report accidentally left it out when transcribing his dictation.”
“There was no mention of it in the courtroom.” She would have remembered any mention of unusual marks on her husband’s body.
Rory rubbed at her forehead with her fingers.
She was so tired, and another headache was threatening.
“I know we have to talk about all these things.” She lifted her gaze to his.
“But it feels like we’re getting nowhere.
I mean, we know there were holes in the investigation, and now we find a discrepancy in the medical examiner’s report, but what do we do with any of this?
Point it out to Detective Fowler? Go to the media? ”
“We go to the source. We go to the ME about his report. We go to Detective Fowler, and we ask him about the discrepancies in his work.”
The idea of going to Fowler made her stomach churn. But she would have Chance at her side. “Okay.” She squared her shoulders. “What if they both refuse to discuss the case with us?”
“Then we go around them. Trust me, Rory, I have never met a roadblock I couldn’t get around.”
Hearing him say those words was an immense relief.
“There’s something else,” he said.
Rory braced for more bad news. “What else?”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my lodging arrangements.”
She grimaced. “Is the motel that bad?” It wasn’t exactly a five-star accommodation.
“No, it’s fine. My concern is leaving you here alone.
I would feel more comfortable staying here with you.
” He held up his hands stop-sign fashion as if he expected her to launch a counterattack.
“I understand that isn’t the most comfortable scenario, but after what happened last night, I just don’t think you being here alone is a good idea. ”
She blew out a breath, relief washing through her. “I would love for you to stay. Please stay.”
He smiled, gave her a nod. “Good. I believe this is the best way to ensure your safety. Would you mind riding to the motel with me to pick up my bag?”
“Sure.” She stood. “There’s a Dairy Dip just down the street from the motel. I could use a milkshake.”
He grinned as he pushed to his feet. “Let me guess. Strawberry?”
“No way.” She laughed. “Chocolate. Always.”
He laughed, and they walked out of the house together.
When she’d locked up, they loaded into his car.
She studied his profile while he drove. For the first time in over two years, she felt a little lighter, a little…
almost happy. And she had this man to thank for it.
She wondered if all Colby Agency investigators were as nice as Chance.
He was very nice and very handsome. She liked him.
A frown tugged at her lips. She turned away, stared out the window.
When Pete died, she had been certain she would never look at another man and feel anything. Were these unexpected glimmers of happiness and hope just a part of the adrenaline related to trying to find the truth? Maybe she was suffering from some kind of protector syndrome.
Whatever the case, she turned back to Chance, glad he was here.