I left Jason’s office in a daze.
Rick was dead.
A man I’d once loved, been married to, planned a life with, was gone forever from this earth. I’d never again see those blue eyes enhanced by colored contacts, that arrogant smile, that carefully streaked blond hair.
A part of me was sad, but I have to admit that a tiny part of me was just a little bit relieved. Rick had driven me crazy with his cheating while we were married, then after we separated he’d switched to just driving me crazy in general. Even though the separation was his idea…out with the old (Lindsay), in with the new (Muffy)…as soon as he and Muffy broke up, he decided he wanted me back. I, on the other hand, decided that one burst of insanity—marrying him in the first place—was enough for one lifetime and told him I wasn’t coming back.
He didn’t get to be top salesman for Rheims Commercial Real Estate by accepting no for an answer, and he had no intention of accepting no from me. I became a challenge, that big sale he was having trouble closing.
Then he met Becky and backed off for a while until Becky became history. After that came Carolyn, Vanessa, Lisa and probably a few more I didn’t know about. The last couple of years had been stressful, frustrating and maddening. This sudden and very final resolution seemed somehow too abrupt and a little anticlimactic. After all the hassle, it just couldn’t be this easy.
I drove to the police station, and Trent met me at the front desk. He was a welcome sight in his rumpled jacket and slacks. He has great eyes, brown with hints of green. The happier he is, the more green shows in his eyes. That day his eyes were brown like the bark on a tree in winter, and his expression was grim.
He came over to me, wrapped me in his arms and hugged me in front of God, the dispatcher and everybody. Since my divorce wasn’t final, we had never indulged in public displays of affection. This public hug made the new circumstances suddenly real. My divorce was final.
“I’m sorry, Lindsay,” Trent murmured in my ear.
As soon as he released me, his partner, Gerald Lawson took his place, embracing me gently. My nickname for Gerald is Granite Man. He’s tall and thin with structured gray hair and a face that never shows emotion. From the first time I met him, I’ve had a goal to break him down, to make him show some kind of emotion, maybe even toss caution to the wind and laugh without restraint. Seems I cracked the granite that day, but not the way I intended. When he pulled back, his expression was marked with sadness and sympathy.
I felt a little guilty, accepting all that compassion under false pretenses. Sure, I was upset that Rick was dead, but in a detached sort of way, the same way I’d feel upset over the death of a stranger. That’s what he had become. An annoying stranger.
The boys led me into an interrogation room with a scarred wooden table, uncomfortable wooden chairs and a one-way mirror. Suddenly I felt like a criminal rather than the object of sympathy. Surely they didn’t think…
“We’re sorry for your loss.” Lawson sat across from me. He had resumed his Granite Man face.
“My loss?”
“Your deceased husband.”
I flinched and stole a glance at Trent who sat next to Lawson. We’d been sort of dating for several months, waiting for my divorce to be final before putting a name to our relationship, and I wondered how he felt about his partner’s reference to my husband. However, at that moment Trent, whom Fred referred to as Mr. Stone Face because of the stern way his chiseled features looked when he was playing cop, wasn’t showing much more expression than Granite Man.
“My ex husband,” I said.
“Your divorce wasn’t final.”
“I think it is now. I think this is about as final as it’s going to get.”
Lawson nodded and looked down at the papers lying on the table in front of him before once again lifting his steely gaze. “Where were you at three o’clock this afternoon?”
I half rose out of my chair. “Where was I? You think I blew him up? You seriously think I would go to all the trouble to blow him up when I was just about to get what I wanted from him?”
“No!” Trent reached a hand across the table toward me. I refused to meet him halfway and take his hand, but I did sit back down.
“We have to ask,” Lawson said.
“I was sitting in my lawyer’s office, waiting for Rick to arrive and sign the divorce papers.” I gave them Jason’s name and phone number. “You can check with him, and I’ll give you a copy of his bill for all that wasted time.” I glared at both of them in turn. See if I ever made them chocolate chip cookies again.
“So Rick was on his way to your lawyer’s office?”
“He was going to his lawyer’s office first, and then they would come to Jason’s office together. He never made it to his lawyer’s.” I studied the two of them, so sympathetic and caring one minute, so official the next. “If one of you could tell me exactly what happened, I might be able to answer your questions a little better.”
Trent looked at me, holding my gaze as if he could support me by the power of his eyes. “The explosion occurred a few minutes after three o’clock in Rick’s driveway. Nobody saw it happen, so we’re not sure if he had just backed out of the garage or if the car had been sitting there for a while.”
“He never left his car sitting in the driveway. He thought that looked tacky, not befitting his status in the neighborhood.”
Trent nodded. “The neighbors heard a loud explosion, and parts from the car flew all around the cul-de-sac.”
I swallowed and straightened, trying to absorb the image of Rick’s green SUV flying around the neighborhood along with pieces of Rick—a blue contact lens in Mrs. Hawkins’ driveway, a perfectly creased trouser leg hanging on the street sign. “Do I need to…” I cleared my throat. “Do I need to identify the body?” My voice dropped lower with each word, ending in a whisper.
Trent and Lawson exchanged glances. “No,” Lawson said in his matter-of-fact tone. “The body was also blown into a large number of pieces. No one piece is readily identifiable.”
I thought I might be sick.
“You’re still his wife,” Lawson said. “That makes you his next of kin.”
I was certain I was going to be sick.
“Do you have the names of other family members?” he continued.
I shook my head and wrapped my arms around myself.
“Did he have other family members?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I don’t really know. I never met his family. In the beginning, he told me they were on vacation in the Bahamas and couldn’t make the wedding. Once he said they lived in New York, then he said they lived abroad. Next his dad was a member of the CIA, and the whole family was on a secret assignment so I couldn’t meet them. The next time I asked about his family, he said they were all dead, victims of a terrorist plot, and he’d grown up in orphanages and foster homes. By that time, I’d figured out that pretty much everything Rick said was a lie, so I have no idea if he ever had a family. For all I know, he was actually an alien, stranded here when the mother ship left without him. That would explain a lot.”
Lawson nodded. “As next of kin, we will release the victim’s remains to you when we conclude our examination of the crime scene.”
I turned to Trent. “What did he just say? Am I going to get a box in the mail with two hairs, one toenail and whatever’s left of Rick’s pancreas?”
Trent flinched. “Not in the mail, but, yeah, that’s basically what he said.”
“Can’t I waive that right? Let you keep whatever you find?”
Trent rose and came around the table to stand beside me. “We’ll talk about all that later. How about I drive you home right now? We’ll pick up a pizza on the way.”
I rose, surprised to find my legs a little shaky. That image of the victim’s remains didn’t set well. “I’m really not hungry right now and I’ve got my car, but if you want to follow behind and give me a police escort, I’m good with that.”
Trent slid an arm around my waist. “I can do that.”
I wasn’t about to let him know how glad I was for the support. I looked up at him and tried for a smile. “Flashing lights and siren, and I can speed without getting a ticket?”
“No.”
I shrugged. “Never hurts to ask.”