The Secret Wife. Carrie Weaver
arms over his chest. “Eric wasn’t what we’d call the responsible kind. What’d he do, laugh in your face? I could see where that might make a woman mad enough to grab a carving knife—”
“I didn’t grab a knife. I didn’t stab him. He was dead when I got there.”
“We’ll see what the medical examiner says about that. They can determine right down to the minute when a person died, you know. So there’s no use lying.”
“I’m not lying,” she said through clenched teeth. But he was. She knew damn well how many variables there were in determining time of death. There wasn’t a decent doctor or coroner alive who would claim to be one-hundred-percent sure. A window of several hours was more likely and that didn’t help her a bit.
“Look, lady, you breeze into town and all of a sudden Eric McGuire is murdered. My guess is you didn’t know he was married. You got all worked up about it and went out to the track. Eric always was a sweet talker with the ladies. But this time he couldn’t worm his way out of it.”
“That’s not true! I never even talked to him. He was dead when I got there.”
The scrawny deputy slipped into the room, his face beet red.
“Uh, there’s some guy out front. Says he’s—”
“Her lawyer.” A tall, silver-haired man pushed his way into the room. He extended a tanned, well-manicured hand to her.
She shook his hand, bewildered. She’d never seen him before in her life. And judging from the cut of his gray summer-weight suit, he looked expensive.
The man handed a business card to the big deputy and motioned for her to follow him.
“We’ll discuss the details later, darlin’. First, we get you out of this hellhole.”
“But—”
“No buts. Your child is right outside waiting for you.”
That was all the encouragement she needed. She followed the authoritative suit out the door without giving the deputies a second glance. For David, she would follow a stranger through the fires of hell.
It shouldn’t have surprised her that the devil himself stood on the other side of the door, holding her baby.
“J.D.”
He nodded in response. “We’re getting you out of here.” Turning to the men in uniform, J.D. said, “Deputy, any more questions should be routed through Maggie’s attorney.”
Her head whirled with unanswered questions. But the most important one had already been answered. David was here, safe and sound, if not totally content.
She held out her arms to him and he broke out in a big, nearly toothless grin. He leaned away from his captor, leaving no doubt where he’d rather be.
J.D. handed David to her and folded his arms over his chest, watching their reunion.
Maggie didn’t care who watched. She hugged and cuddled and kissed the soft little boy until he squirmed in protest.
“You done yet?”
J.D.’s voice was harsh, impatient, but his eyes were just a little too understanding.
She nodded.
“She’ll be staying at my house, Belmont, if you need to talk to her.” J.D. shook hands with the attorney. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
The distinguished gentleman winked. “It’ll cost you, J.D. You know that gazebo my wife’s been talking about…”
“Yeah, I know.” J.D. winced. “You name the day, I’ll be there for measurements.”
He shook hands with the attorney, then took her elbow to escort her out of the county jail. As if she needed any encouragement. Intent on putting distance between David and the uniforms, she broke into a jog.
But once outside, her steps faltered.
“Your house? But, the hotel—”
“The hotel isn’t an option. Anything you need there?”
“All our stuff is in the car.”
J.D. hesitated, “There’s someone who insists on meeting you. It’s against my better judgment, but…”
CHAPTER FOUR
MAGGIE DIDN’T BOTHER to protest when J.D. asked for her car keys. Her knees shook and her hands were unsteady as she buckled David into his car seat.
J.D. steered her little Toyota out of the parking lot, adjusting easily to the loose clutch and intermittent hiccup on acceleration. Soon, they left the downtown area and houses were fewer and farther between.
Fighting nausea, Maggie closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. She had no doubt that J.D.’s attorney had saved her from an overnight stay in jail, if not longer. The attorney had also made sure they immediately returned her child.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
When she didn’t hear a polite response, Maggie opened her eyes and glanced at J.D.
His profile was rigid, his jaw set. “Belmont owed me a favor.”
“And now you owe his wife a gazebo. I’ll find a way to pay you back.”
He nodded.
“Really. I will.”
“Look, I didn’t do it for you.”
“Then who did you do it for?” She doubted he’d considered David. He didn’t seem eager to take on the role of uncle.
“It’s…complicated. But the last thing any of us need right now is you jailed and the little guy in foster care.”
“I won’t let them take David.”
J.D. glanced in her direction. “I hope you’re not thinking about doing something stupid. Like running.”
That was exactly what she’d been thinking. Grabbing up David and driving off somewhere, anywhere but here.
“Because that will only make things worse. We were damn lucky they released you today. And that was partly because I vouched for you.”
Maggie swallowed her surprise. The car seemed to close in on her. Another debt she owed to J.D., another thread tying her to McGuireville. “I’ll try not to get you in trouble.”
Avoiding his gaze, she looked out the side window.
But against the backdrop of green, green grass and thick stands of trees, she saw Eric’s lifeless body. He was gone, truly and totally, from her life forever. A part of her ached for her first love and all the might-have-beens. All the shared memories that it would be her sole responsibility to pass on to their son.
It was a hard idea for her to accept.
And what effect would David’s death have on their son? One of her psychology professors once said that a bad father was better than no father at all. Somehow, she’d hoped that Eric might mature and take an interest in David. Maybe even act like a real father. Now, there was no chance of that ever happening.
“You’ll notice we’re only a couple miles out of town, but it feels like we’re in the country. There’s more open space.”
Maggie wondered if J.D.’s change of subject was intentional. As if they could pretend she were just another guest in town for the reunion.
Whatever his reasoning, Maggie was relieved to pretend for a few moments that everything was right with the world. She focused on the expanse of green beyond the glass—every conceivable shade from sage to hunter. Once in a while, there would be a cluster of two or three brick ranch houses. Even more rare were elegant-looking two-storied homes that had great white columns creating a front porch. The yards were huge by Phoenix