Chapter 15 Jake
Jake
He was three shots down when he decided that married life wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be and Rachel didn’t deserve to die.
He’d break it off with Jules and go rescue his wife.
Sitting on a bench in his closet, he pulled on his boot and was lacing it up when the front door chimes went off.
The doorbell chimed again, and he stood, moving out of their suite and to the hall, jogging down the circular staircase, his steps slowing as he saw the flicker of emergency lights through the stained-glass panels on the door.
Someone on the other side pounded on the double doors, and Jake hesitated, then flipped the dead bolt and slowly opened the right side.
There was an officer there, his expression stern, voice deep. “Jake Redden?”
“Yes?”
“We’re going to need you to come with us.”
“Right now?” The alcohol was slowing his reaction, dulling his vision, but he could almost swear that behind the man, on the edge of their driveway, next to his Range Rover, was an ambulance, and sitting on the back of it was his wife.
He squinted, trying to get a better look, but the man moved into his field of vision.
“Yes. Right now.”
“Why?”
“We’d like to question you about the suspected attempted murder of Rachel Redden.”
“I was actually just about to go . . .” He stepped forward, out onto the porch, and gestured toward the back of the house. “Uh . . . I just changed because I found out that . . .”
It was definitely Rachel. The woman in uniform beside her moved, and now he could see her face. Her hair was wet, her cheeks pink, her breath fogging in the air. She had a blanket around her shoulders, and a stretcher was being assembled beside her.
She looked exhausted and yet energized, staring at him with a look that could only be described as fury.
She’d never looked so beautiful or so terrifying. He stared back and tried to remember why he had ever wanted to kill her.