Chapter 10 Andrea Kendal
Andrea Kendal
“Roxanne, that was Eric’s first wife. She was an absolute sweetheart but always looked a little shell-shocked, like she was anticipating a reason to run out of the room.
But that wasn’t a huge surprise, given her background.
Who knew what kind of things she saw growing up.
You wouldn’t have known it to look at her—I mean, she married a surgeon—but her family was all trash.
Gangsters and such. And that’s what I think really happened to her.
I think someone from her family, or from some other crime family, whacked her.
That’s what they say over there, by the way.
Whacked. Honestly, they do. It’s not just a thing from the movies. ”
Andrea sat on the floor of the kids’ playroom and eavesdropped on her husband’s interview with the police.
Her legs were spread apart, a large coloring page before her, a big marker in hand, the r in Cameron’s name half filled in.
Across from her, the boy attempted to color in the flames on a race car illustration, his efforts going out of the lines as much as in.
“Come on, Tony. We’ve been over this.” Eric sounded calm, but Andrea knew every octave of his voice by heart.
She could hear the tightness, could feel the pause before he answered, the thought that was going into each sentence.
“Roxanne was taken ten miles from here. I was six hours away. You, more than anyone, know how much this was looked into.”
Tony. Roxanne’s uncle. When she’d disappeared, he was a thirteen-year veteran on the force.
Now he must be close to retirement. Andrea had heard from Eric how he had all but moved in after Roxanne disappeared, watching Eric like a hawk.
Tapping his phones. Following him. It had taken months for Tony to back off, and that happened only after the police chief had piled more cases onto his workload.
She reached over and turned up the volume on the baby monitor, one she had put in the library before the cops arrived, just in case they wanted to question Eric.
He’d suggested she stay out of sight, advice she readily agreed with.
The last thing she wanted was any scrutiny, especially from Tony.
He had shown up once, right after she had moved in.
She had seen him through the security system and almost fainted at the outline of his large build, his shield and ID held up in front of the camera.
She had double-checked her appearance in the mirror before cracking open the door and had kept her back stiff, voice breathy when she said hello.
She knew what he would see and what he would think.
A woman almost a decade younger than his niece, with breasts and lips three times bigger, the assets showed off in a low-cut top and bright-red lipstick.
His gaze had gone right to her cleavage and stayed there, but his message still hit its mark.
“You’re in danger, Mrs. Kendal. Your husband is a bad man. Don’t believe me? Look up Roxanne Kendal. Her story didn’t turn out too good.”
After he’d left, Andrea went straight to the liquor closet and poured a double shot of vodka and chased it with two Valium.
She had called Eric at the hospital and reported the event, and he swore to her that she’d never have to see Tony again.
A promise that, like many he’d made, he had no way to keep.
Cameron held up his artwork, beaming at her. “Look! It’s good!”
She smiled back and a wave of affection hit at his cherubic face. “It’s perfect. Just like you.”
She reached for the little boy and pulled him onto her lap, inhaling his infectious smell of applesauce and the tear-free shampoo she used on his thick curls.
“I would kill to protect you,” she whispered. Quietly, so the little boy wouldn’t hear.