Bree’s eyebrows rose. “She was married?”
“Divorced. You didn’t know?”
“I had no idea. I feel like such a shitty person. That’s a pretty significant thing not to know about someone.”
“It doesn’t make you a shitty person,” Denise said. “You said more than once she was a little weird.”
“Still, something that should have come up in the two years I knew her.”
“Not necessarily,” Detective Johnson said. “We pulled her personnel file. She checkedNever Married.”
“Why?” Bree asked.
“What we’ve gathered from her journals is the divorce, and her husband cheating on her, destroyed her world. We’ve got a psychologist going through them as well. His preliminary assessment is that she lost her sense of self-worth. Then, she found you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She hero-worshipped you. In her own words, you were everything she wanted to be. Strong. Independent. Self-reliant.”
“What did that have to do with Bree’s ex?” Denise asked.
He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to Bree. “She wrote about finding out Chad cheated on you. The entries became disjointed from that point forward. She’d refer to Chad, but a few sentences later, use her ex’s name. The psychologist thinks finding out about your situation triggered a psychotic break. She was unable to distinguish between what happened to you and what happened to her. In the end, she took all her anger she felt from her divorce out on the women involved with Chad.”
Bree stared up at the white ceiling. How did this happen? Could she have prevented it? She squeezed her eyes shut, and her fingers spasmed around Jase’s. Tears streamed from her eyes. Such a waste. So many dead.
Jase jostled her as he shifted forward on the bed. Her left arm lifted, and she felt Denise crowd her on that side. They surrounded her. Comforted her. Protected her.
“Bree.” Detective Johnson’s voice was soft, laced with empathy. “Nothing you did brought this on. Cindy was very troubled.”
She peered over her human security blanket and nodded. Jase and Denise sat back.
Denise wiped Bree’s cheek with the back of her fingers. “Just think of all the new stuff you’ll have to talk to Dr. Tailor about. She’s probably sick of hearing about the same old shit.”
Bree snorted and blew out a snot bubble. Denise threw her head back and laughed while Bree glared at her. She put her hand over her nose and sniffed. “Get me a tissue, you cow.”
Jase grabbed two from the box by the bed and held them out. Bree replaced her hand with them. “Can you leave the room while I blow my nose?”
He chuckled. “No.”
“Fine. Don’t blame me if it grosses you out.” She blew her nose, then laid the wadded up remains on the corner of the table tray.
Detective Johnson approached her bed. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you for answering my questions.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I may have more later. We’re already coordinating with hospital administration at Fort Bragg to talk to the people you work with.”
She sighed. Maybe she could talk Jase into running away to Aruba and not deal with it.
“Take care.” Detective Johnson touched two fingers to his forehead and left.
A yawn overtook her, and she covered her mouth with the back of her bandaged arm.
“I’m heading out,” Denise said. “Gran texted while you were talking to the detective. She’ll be here around two. Plenty of time to take a nap.”
“Okay.”
Denise laid her forehead against Bree’s again. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
