The Edens Series

Chapter 18 #2

Either he’d had it longer than he’d claimed.

Or someone had put that purse on the mountain along with the wallet.

Yes, both could be Lily’s. But even then, she’d died early last month.

We’d had rain showers since her death. That purse and the wallet should be in worse condition if they’d been outside since June.

There was a chance they’d been sheltered from the worst of the elements, maybe shaded under a tree. Assuming the purse was Lily’s. Assuming she had taken the wrong trail. Assuming that she’d tossed the purse and wallet aside before going to the cliff.

Too many assumptions.

“Have you seen anyone hiking in that area lately?”

Briggs shook his head. “It’s private property. Only person who regularly goes there is me.”

“You’re sure?”

He locked his eyes with mine and understanding crept into his gaze.

If there was evidence of anything sinister, he’d be my primary suspect. He had the means. The opportunity. The only solid element missing—the key element—was motive.

Trespassing was weak but a possibility. Maybe he’d seen someone on his ranch and he’d gone into a rage.

It was thin.

I hated thin. It usually meant I was missing something.

The uneasy noise in my head was beginning to scream so loud I wanted to plug my ears.

What the fuck was going on? If Lily really had committed suicide, someone might have been with her that night. She’d had sex with someone.

Briggs?

That would explain why none of her friends had noticed a boyfriend. Maybe she’d been sneaking up to the mountains for an affair with a much older man.

Maybe . . .

There were too many maybes. But if he’d had her boots up there, it made sense why her feet hadn’t been shredded. She’d been wearing them until, what? He’d pushed her? He’d tossed her over the edge?

“Can you tell me where you were the night of June first?” I asked, hating the way his shoulders slumped.

“Home.”

“Alone?”

“As far as I remember.”

“Were you doing anything? Reading? Texting? Movies?”

He met my eyes and there was so much embarrassment in his face that my heart twisted. “I don’t do much these days. I’m, uh . . . I’m sure I was home. But I don’t remember exactly what I was doing.”

“Fair enough.” I gave him a sad smile. “It’s hard to remember specifics that long ago.”

He dropped his gaze to his lap.

It was his relationship to Griffin that made me hurt for Briggs. It was the reason we were in my office and not an interrogation room with another officer as a witness.

“That’s all the information I need for now.” I stopped recording and locked the recorder away, then picked up my keys. “I’ll take you home now.”

He stood, wordlessly, and followed me out of the office and to the parking lot.

There were no officers in the bullpen, only Officer Smith stationed at the door. I’d picked this hour specifically, not wanting there to be an audience when I brought Briggs in.

The drive to the cabin was a stark contrast to our trip into town. Briggs kept his hands clasped tightly in his lap, like a pair of invisible handcuffs were clasped around his wrists.

When I stopped in front of his house, he reached for the door, but hesitated, looking at me for the first time since we’d left the station. “I don’t think I hurt those girls.”

The uncertainty in his words was a knife to the heart.

Lost for words, I had nothing to say as he shoved out of the cruiser and disappeared into his home.

I stared at the cabin’s closed door for a long moment.

You never knew what happened inside the walls of a home unless you lived there. But in Briggs’s case, I could guess he lived—preferred—a simple life.

He was like his nephew in that way.

The urge to rush to Griffin, to have him wrap his arms around me and chase away this sick feeling, was so strong that when I drove to town, I had to keep both hands on the wheel to ensure I stayed on course.

He was mad. I was angry.

There’d be no comfort in his arms today.

The station was still quiet when I returned. I sat at my desk and replayed the recording from my discussion with Briggs. Then I got to work.

The purse and wallet were taken to be fingerprinted. Even with the recording, I made notes of exactly how my discussion with Briggs had come about and how I’d found the items in his home. Then I left to visit Melina Green at work.

Melina was at the nurses’ station when I arrived at the nursing home, smiling as she chatted with a coworker. Her smile fell when she spotted me. Melina recovered quickly, waving as I approached, but the damage to my feelings was done.

I’d forever be the face of the worst day of her life.

It was my burden to bear.

She was getting back on her feet and I was an unwelcome reminder of her pain. As time went on, there’d be others like Melina. Others who’d wince when they saw me enter a restaurant. Others who’d turn the opposite direction when they spotted me walking down the sidewalk.

“Hi, Melina. Sorry to bother you. Can I have five minutes?”

“Of course.”

I didn’t bother with small talk as I pulled her aside and showed her the video of the purse. She didn’t recognize it and assured me that if Lily had purchased that handbag, she was the type of daughter who would have loved showcasing it to her mother.

There were tears glistening in Melina’s eyes when I said goodbye.

It was early in the afternoon when I left the nursing home. There was paperwork to do at the station. Reports waited for me to review. The city’s budgeting process was beginning for the next calendar year, and I needed to wrap my head around the fiscal data Janice had prepared.

But I didn’t return to my desk.

I drove home, needing a couple of hours alone behind my own walls to let my feelings breathe. Then I’d go see Pops and cook him dinner.

Except time alone was not in my future.

Griffin’s truck was parked in front of my house. The moment I eased into the driveway, he stepped out of the driver’s side and marched to my porch. Even with my doors closed, I could hear the stomp of his boots on the sidewalk.

I dragged in a fortifying breath, summoning no energy for this fight. I hadn’t slept much last night at the hospital—not only because of the stiff hospital chair but also because I’d agonized over how to tell Griffin I was bringing in Briggs for questioning.

Without a word, I joined him on the porch, fit the key into the lock and walked inside.

He followed me to the living room, waves of fury radiating off his chest.

I let my purse plop to the floor by my shoes, then faced Griff, ready to get this argument over with.

It would likely be our last. This was the end.

Later tonight, when I was alone in my bed, I’d mourn the loss of Griffin. My rugged cowboy who carried so much on his broad shoulders. I’d miss him. I’d cry for what we might have been. Probably more than I’d cried over Skyler.

Even furious, Griff was handsome. His chiseled jaw was clenched. His eyes, hidden beneath that baseball cap I loved so much, were ice cold.

“You talked to Briggs.” It was an accusation, not a statement.

“Yes.”

“Mom and Dad called their lawyer. He’s to be present for any other discussions you have with my uncle.”

“That’s fine. Briggs could have asked for a lawyer to be there today.”

Griff looked at the wall, his jaw pulsing as his nostrils flared.

“It’s all over town. I stopped by the coffee shop.

Lyla said she’s been asked about five times why Briggs was arrested today.

So now my family is fielding phone calls, having to tell everyone he wasn’t arrested and it was just a routine meeting. ”

Goddamn Officer Smith. He was the only one who’d seen me escort Briggs into my office. Not even Janice had been around, having taken a lunch break. Smith, that asshole, was going to learn a lesson in confidentiality first thing tomorrow morning.

“I’m sorry. I tried to be discreet.”

“Discreet would have been having that conversation anywhere but at the police station. Discreet would have been telling me first.”

“I did tell you first,” I hissed, stepping forward to poke a finger in his chest. “I came to you this morning. Do you really think I want to make Briggs look like a fool?”

He didn’t answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I know how this town works. There’s a lot of gossip.”

“Something you’ve explained to me many times. Which was why the only person in the station was Officer Smith. I questioned Briggs in my office with the door closed. No one was present. I recorded the discussion. Me and me alone. But I have a job to do.”

“A job.”

“Yes, a job.” I tossed up my hands. “Do you know how many rules I broke by telling you first? If anyone ever found out, my investigation would be compromised.”

“What investigation? What do you think you’re going to find? Those girls killed themselves, Winn. It’s fucking sad. It’s fucking horrible. But it’s the fucking truth. It was suicide.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” My voice bounced off the walls. “What if it wasn’t, Griff?”

“You think my uncle killed them?”

“No, I don’t,” I admitted. To him. To myself. “That doesn’t mean I can ignore the questions. What if? What if it was your sister who you’d found on Indigo Ridge? What if it was Lyla or Eloise or Talia? I cannot live with the what-ifs. Not when I might have the power to erase them.”

He expelled the air from his lungs in a whoosh. “I’m not faulting you for the questions. Just the manner.”

“I can’t be a police officer for everyone in Quincy but not for you.

And if you actually took a step back, stopped acting like a stubborn mule and remembered that I’m more than just the woman sharing your bed, you’d realize that what you are asking of me is impossible.

That’s not who I am, Griffin. That’s not who you’d want me to be. ”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” I sighed. “You are.”

He froze. Heartbeats passed.

Any minute, he’d walk out the door and out of my life. It hurt already, to lose him. God, it hurt.

Except he didn’t leave me. His frame sagged and he tore off his baseball cap, sending it sailing across the room. Then he dragged a hand through his dark hair. “You’re right.”

The relief was so profound I laughed. “I know.”

He planted his fists on his hips. “I’m pissed.”

“Deal with it.”

“I will.” Griff’s arm wrapped around my shoulders and he hauled me into his chest. “Sorry.”

Maybe I should have fought for more than a one-word apology, but two seconds against his warm, strong body and I let it go.

After Pops and his heart attack, two sleepless nights and the discussion with Briggs, I didn’t have the strength to argue with Griffin.

So I wrapped my arms around his narrow waist and pressed my cheek against his heart and just . . . breathed.

“You have me twisted up, woman. So fucking twisted up.”

“Want to unwind? Call it quits?”

He leaned away and his hands moved to my face, his fingers threading through the hair at my temples. “I don’t think I could quit you if I tried.”

“Even if we fight?”

“Especially when we fight.”

It wasn’t a declaration of love. It wasn’t a lifelong commitment. But that statement moved me so much that tears flooded my eyes.

My parents used to fight. Mom had called it normal fighting.

In high school, when all of my friends’ parents were getting divorced, I’d fret and convince myself that my parents would too.

One night, I’d overheard them arguing about something.

The details had faded with time, but when my mom had found me in my room later that night, crying, she’d sat down on my bed and promised that the argument was normal fighting.

She’d told me that one day, she hoped I’d find a man who’d fight with me. Who’d love me even when he wanted to strangle me. Who’d never quit fighting because what we had was worth a few angry words.

“I don’t want to quit either,” I whispered.

“Hey.” His thumbs caught the two tears that escaped. “You can’t cry, Winn. It destroys me. Don’t cry, baby.”

I sniffled away the sting in my nose. “It’s just been a long few days.”

“Lean on me.” He kissed my forehead, then hugged me again, squeezing so tight that if my knees buckled, I wouldn’t drop an inch.

I leaned on him.

And for the first time in a long time, I knew the man holding me tight wouldn’t let me fall.