Page 67 of Done Dirty

Jack held up his badge and kept it there.

The lock turned. The door opened six inches and stopped on the chain. Through the gap I could see a sliver of her—silvery-blond hair and one eye, higher up than I expected. She looked at the badge. Then at Jack. Then at me.

Jack said, “Mrs. Callum. I’m Sheriff Lawson. This is Dr. Graves. We need to speak with you. Can we come in?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Now isn’t a good time.”

“Mrs. Callum,” Jack said softly. “You’re safe with us. But we have to talk to you.”

The chain slid free. The door opened the rest of the way.

My stomach dropped.

She was tall—five-nine, maybe taller—with silvery-blond hair loose around her face and the kind of direct gaze that said she was used to being the one in charge of a room. Except for the injury to her nose, which no concealer was going to cover. The bridge was swollen and dark and the bruising had spread under both eyes, gone yellow-green at the edges.

Something moved across her face when she looked at us—relief, terror, both—and then it went still. She stepped back and held the door.

The living room was neat and lived in. A sectional sofa, a coffee table with a stack of books and a candle burned almost to nothing. Family photos on the wall—a wedding photo, a beach somewhere sunny, what looked like a fire department gala with Brett in his dress blues and Brianna in a red gown with her head thrown back laughing at something off camera.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “I really don’t have time for this today. I’ve missed work this week, and I have paperwork to catch up on.”

“Why don’t we sit down?” Jack asked. “Wherever you’re most comfortable.”

She kept looking at the door and out the front window.

“He’s on shift isn’t he?” I asked. “He won’t be home anytime soon.”

She looked startled at the realization, and then she dropped down onto the couch and pulled her knees under her.

“We’re here to help you, Mrs. Callum,” Jack said. “But you’ve got to tell us the truth. I want you to know that a witness saw you go into Wade Rivers’s condo the night he was murdered.”

Silent tears welled in her eyes. “I knew someone would come. I’ve been waiting. I’ve been too afraid to leave the house.”

“Because of your husband?”

She looked away and didn’t answer.

“How did you meet Wade?” Jack asked.

She was still looking away when she spoke.

“I met him at a wine tasting,” she said. “About two months ago. There’s a place in Newcastle—they do them on Friday evenings. One of my friends came into town I’d gone to school with, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I don’t really have friends I get to do things with anymore. And Brett was on shift.”

She exhaled.

“They put everyone at these community tables and Wade and his date were at ours, along with two other couples. He introduced himself to all of us. He was very personable and charming. Easy to talk to, and he kept the conversation going. And he was funny. It had been a long time since I laughed like that. He seemed interested in me, in what I do. He asked what clinic I worked at. I told him I was married.” She looked down at the gold band on her ring finger. “When we left I thought that was the end of it. That we’d never see each other again. But the next Monday at work someone delivered the most beautiful roses. The card just said that he’d enjoyed the night talking to me more than any other he could remember. I had to throw the roses away. I couldn’t let Brett know about them.”

“What happened after that?”

“He came by the clinic at lunch one day and asked if I wanted to grab something to eat. Just casual. He’d told me he’d been looking at some property to open up another location for his studio, and since he was in town he thought it would be nice to see me. It had been a long time since someone treated me with the respect he did and really seemed interested in how I was doing.

“So we had lunch,” she said. “And I dreamed of it being more, but I knew it was impossible. But still, it was my secret, even if I didn’t act on it. But then he texted, and then we found time to talk on the phone for hours. Always when Brett was at the station. That’s when we discovered that Brett worked at Wade’s condo. I was terrified because I realized if Wade had ever invited me back to his place I would have gone. And I would have run right into my husband.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I tried to put a stop to it. It had only been a couple of weeks since we’d met, and I knew what Brett would do if he ever found out. But then Wade was there at the clinic to pick me up after work one day in that sexy car of his, and he was wearing these sunglasses and leaning against the hood.” The memory brought a small smile to her lips. “It was just like a movie, and I thought to myself, I can pretend to be someone else for a little while. There’s no harm in that. Wade already knew that Brett was on shift at the station.”

“That was when things got more serious?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “It all happened so fast. I guess that’s a habit of mine, falling in love too fast. I’d only known Brett three months before we got married. But Wade was different. There was this soul connection I’ve never had with anyone. He romanced me. We drove into DC for the evening and had dinner at this fancy restaurant. And then he took me to the Waldorf. He made it a beautiful night. He’d thought of everything. Champagne and roses. He even knew that I wouldn’t be comfortable staying the whole night. Who pays for an expensive hotel just to spend a few hours with someone? It was like magic.”