The Bodyguard. Lena Diaz
man beside Leslie held up his hand. “Quiet, everyone. Mrs. Ashton, I’m Detective Cornell with Chatham County Metro P.D. If you’re feeling up to it, I have some questions for you.” He glanced at the others, the look on his face showing displeasure. “Your family insisted on coming in with me, but I can ask them to step outside. Or, if you prefer,” he said, his voice sounding grudging, “I can wait in the hall until you speak to them privately.”
“No.” She winced at how loud her voice sounded in the small room. “That is, I’d prefer not to have these other men here, if that’s okay.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Grant said.
“Yes. You are.” Luke Dawson’s deep voice rang out from the open doorway. He strode inside and stopped at the foot of Caroline’s bed, frowning at Cornell and Leslie before looking at the other two men. “You heard her. Out.”
Grant drew himself up, but even so, he was still an inch shorter than Luke and not nearly as broad. “Our brother was murdered,” he snapped, aiming a glare at Caroline. “And we have the right to hear what she has to say about it.”
Luke moved so fast it stole Caroline’s breath. One minute he was standing there, calmly eyeing Grant. The next minute he had Grant’s arm wedged up between his shoulder blades. Grant’s face was bright red, but he didn’t seem to be able to move.
“Let me go, you stupid rent-a-cop,” he gasped.
“I’ll let you go—outside.” Luke raised a challenging brow at Daniel, daring him to intervene.
Daniel glared at Luke before heading to the door. Luke followed, pushing Grant ahead of him. The door softly closed behind them.
Cornell pulled a plastic chair to the side of the bed and sat. “I take it you aren’t close to your brothers-in-law?”
Caroline shook her head. “No. I definitely don’t consider them...family. And I assure you, the feeling is mutual.”
The door clicked back open and Luke hurried inside, stopping at the foot of the bed again.
“Mrs. Ashton, if you don’t want me here, I’ll wait in the hallway.” He looked pointedly at the detective and Leslie. “But I thought you might want one ally in your corner, something you seem to have little of at the moment. I also strongly urge you not to say anything to Detective Cornell without a lawyer. A criminal lawyer, not a civil one.”
Leslie pursed her lips but didn’t say anything.
“Cornell isn’t here with your best interests at heart,” Luke continued. “He considers you a suspect in your husband’s murder.”
Caroline blinked at the detective. His face reddened, telling her Luke’s words were true.
“I’m not your enemy,” Cornell explained. “I simply want to know what happened. But first, I’d like to offer you my condolences on the death of your husband.”
She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Even though she knew Richard was dead, hearing it out loud didn’t make it seem real. She kept expecting him to pounce at her from behind the curtains, or stride out of the bathroom and laugh at her for thinking she could ever escape him.
“Thank you, Detective.”
“Have you had a chance to speak to your doctor yet?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “He was here a few moments ago.”
“Then you know he suspects your husband abused you, that he’s the reason for your fractures, bruises, your ruptured spleen...your miscarriage?”
She winced and automatically moved her hand to her belly. “Yes. He told me.”
“Is it true? Did your husband beat you?”
She blanched, her face growing hot. She’d never wanted anyone else to know about her shame. Until a few days ago, no one did. No one but Leslie.
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“It’s the elephant in the room,” Cornell continued. “It can’t be avoided. You hired a bodyguard, Mr. Dawson here. Why did you hire him?”
She glanced at Luke. “I knew my husband would be angry that I’d left him. And I didn’t want to have to deal with an argument. I wanted someone who could confront him, if necessary, and save me from the ugliness.”
“Are you denying your husband hurt you?” the detective asked.
She twisted her fingers in the sheets. “I don’t—”
“Don’t say another word,” Luke said. “You need a criminal defense attorney before you speak to the police.”
Leslie patted Caroline’s hand. “The sooner she answers the questions, the sooner this will all be over and she can put it behind her. Perhaps it would be best if you waited outside, Mr. Dawson.”
“Not a chance.”
“No,” Caroline said at the same time. She pulled her hand back from Leslie’s. “I’m sorry, but I feel...better with Mr. Dawson here. Detective Cornell, all I can tell you is that I didn’t kill my husband. I don’t own a gun. I don’t even think Richard owned one. There was no need, not with a security firm watching over the house. And regardless of what Richard did or didn’t do, I never wanted him dead.”
“I agree it appears you couldn’t have killed him yourself, based on the timeline of events and the witnesses to your whereabouts. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t hire someone else to kill him.”
Her mouth fell open. “Why would I do that?”
“Your husband was quite wealthy. Maybe you figured you wouldn’t get much if you divorced him.” He cocked his head and studied her. “Was there a prenuptial agreement limiting how much you would get in a divorce?”
“Yes. There was. But I didn’t care. I was leaving my husband, regardless of the money.”
Cornell didn’t look impressed by her statement. He scribbled something in his notepad. “I think when you decided to leave your husband, you didn’t want to lose the money. You called a friend, maybe a lover, offered him a portion of the estate if he’d help you stage your husband’s murder to make it look like you had nothing to do with it. Who helped you?”
She laughed bitterly. “A friend? A lover? My husband made sure I had no one, Detective. I didn’t make a move that he didn’t know about. I couldn’t even leave the house without him.”
“Obviously that’s not true. You left without him Thursday morning.”
She rolled her head on the pillow. “The one thing my husband allowed me to do on my own, the only thing he let me do, was run two weekly errands—taking our clothes to the dry cleaner’s and bringing his papers to his lawyer’s office, to Leslie’s office. That’s what I was doing. That’s how I left without him knowing I was taking off.”
“‘Let’ you?” the detective asked. “Are you saying you were a prisoner in your own home? Did you resent your husband for controlling you that way?”
“That’s enough.” Luke said. “Mrs. Ashton, again, I strongly urge you not to say another word without adequate legal representation.”
The door flew open. A tall man in a business suit stepped into the room. His coal-black hair had tiny streaks of silver, but that was the only thing that hinted at his age. His blue eyes were still vivid, piercing, as they swept the room and landed on her.
“And just who the devil are you?” Leslie demanded.
Luke looked relieved to see the other man.
The man ignored Leslie, nodded at Luke. He stepped to the side of Caroline’s bed and smiled down at her. “I’m Alex Buchanan, a defense attorney with one of the best records in the state of Georgia. Mr. Dawson called me about