Chapter 57 Willow Morrow
Willow Morrow
“According to the statistics, the most dangerous place for a woman is her home.”
David had been wearing a soft gray V-neck T-shirt. Willow had kissed his neck, then gently bitten the skin.
Charcoal-gray slacks with a black belt. She had pulled the belt off, then looped it through its clasp and pulled it over his head and tightened it around his neck like a noose.
Willow watched as Katie practically kissed the detectives’ asses as they lumbered out. Such a Goody Two-shoes. How the fuck had Mark lasted this long with her?
The blonde literally waved through the glass windows at the two cops, as if she were holding an open house. When she finally flipped the lock closed, Willow was already back in the kitchen.
“Willow!” Katie’s quiet little steps pattered after her, and Willow stopped to see what the woman wanted.
“Yes?” She raised her eyebrows.
“I made some soup and potato salad, if you want some.”
Both sounded good to Willow’s empty stomach, but she made a face in an attempt to preserve her pride. “No thanks.”
“Is there anything I should know about . . .” Her voice dropped off, and if she thought Willow was going to hold her hand with this, she was sorely mistaken.
“About what?” Willow asked.
“About the David thing, or about . . . I don’t know. Whatever. It just seems so odd, the way you left so suddenly.”
“Have you ever tried to leave Mark?” Willow asked.
She blanched. “No! Never.”
“He doesn’t take it well.” Willow paused, then amended the statement.
“He didn’t take it well. I left suddenly because I had to leave when he wasn’t here.
And I didn’t leave—I ran away. It was the only way to get the divorce.
I left and I hid where he couldn’t find me.
And I stayed hidden until he signed the papers, and then I hid longer, until I thought he had gotten over me. ”
Her gaze drifted over to where Mark had been standing when he first saw her, and she stared at that place, hoping that Katie would get the reference. “Maybe I should have stayed away longer. Maybe he isn’t quite over it.”
Katie flinched. Bull’s-eye.
In this marriage, there were so many easy targets to hit.