After I hung up, I shoved the phone back into my bag and slid the duffel under the bed where I’d been storing it. Climbing to my feet, I listened for any sounds in the house. It would take at least fifteen minutes to get to the pharmacy and back, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Hearing nothing but my own breathing, I opened the door.
And walked straight into Juliette.
“Were you just talking to someone?” she asked.
CHAPTER 24
Juliette
Wes’s eyes widened. He was clearly not expecting to see me. And his surprise only worsened my growing suspicion. My stomach churned as I waited for his response.
He cleared his throat. “That was a cop investigating the shooting.”
I hadn’t been able to hear everything Wes was saying, but I’d heard him tell whoever it was that I’d gone to the pharmacy.
Feeling my blood pressure rise, I swallowed. “You said something about me being out of the house. Why did they need to know that?”
He looked down for a moment. “He was asking where you were. I think he wants me to keep things to myself for some reason. Maybe he thinks you talk to Vince? I think they’re worried about his involvement. They want to put some distance between Vince and the investigation.”
I narrowed my eyes. That seemed like a weird explanation, but I let him continue.
“We have to make sure your father doesn’t interfere,” he said. “Vince told me he wanted to handle it, and that’s bad news. That’s not the answer. He’s going to botch the whole thing.”
“Did my father do something since you last spoke to him?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. But Vince will inevitably fuck everything up if he thinks or even suspects he knows who did this. He could very well draw the wrong conclusion, too, since he’s not working with the official investigation. Imagine if he kills the wrong person… I’m trying to cooperate with the cops so they can figure out who’s responsible before Vince does anything. Your father just wants to find the person and kill them. He’s trying to fight fire with fire.”
While I wanted to believe Wes’s explanation of the phone call, his face was red. Did that mean something, or was I reading into things? He had been through a lot recently. Maybe it was stress from all that. Despite feeling uneasy, I didn’t want to say or do anything that would interfere with his recovery. I reminded myself that he’d nearly died just a few days ago. Maybe I needed to lay off.
“Okay…well…” I looked down at my shoes. “I guess I overreacted. I’m sorry.” I wanted to believe my own words. But my gut wouldn’t let me.
Wes moved in closer and placed his hand on my cheek. “We’ve both been through hell these past few days. I don’t blame you for being on edge. Never hesitate to tell me what’s bothering you.” He lifted my chin to meet his eyes. “Okay?”
I couldn’t look him in the face for long. He’d see the worry written all over mine. So I turned away.
But a moment later, I turned back. “You tell me to share what’s bothering me, but then you get upset when I askyouto express your feelings. Don’t you remember the argument we had at the farmer’s market right before the shooting? We never resolved why you’d been acting differently, Wes.” I shook my head, catching myself pushing when I’d said I’d back off. “You know what? Go rest. You should be taking it easy.” I walked away. I needed to be alone anyway to process these feelings of doubt.
“Juliette…” he called after me.
I kept walking. “Oh, and I called the pharmacy on the way, and they said your meds weren’t ready, which is why I came back. I’m gonna take a shower…” I closed the bathroom door behind me.
As the water rained down on me, more questions pummeled my brain. The longer I spent thinking about his explanation of the phone call, the more paranoid I became. Why had Wes let me leave for the pharmacy without him? It was uncharacteristic of him to not want to tag along to keep an extra set of eyes on me. What if he’d actually stayed behind so he could talk to someone on the phone without me overhearing? Worse, what if that person wasn’t even a cop? A rush of panic hit. What if it was a woman? That was a stretch, given the timing. Also, I didn’t take him for a cheater.
But my mind continued to race. There was that booty-call woman who’d phoned back when we were in Italy. What if she’d called him again to get together? I shook that thought from my brain. Iwasbeing paranoid with that one.
As I drifted off to sleep that night, I reminded myself that Wes had given me no tangible reason not to trust him. Right now, all of this was in my imagination.
Basically, I went against my gut and tried to lie to myself so I could have a chance at getting some rest.
***
I ended up sleeping for a few hours, at best. The foreboding feeling that Wes was hiding something won out and kept my brain busy most of the night.
And the following day, Wes brought everything to the forefront again when, in the middle of the afternoon, he announced, “I have to go meet with one of the investigators.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Detective Olson.”
