The Last Lie Told (Finley O’Sullivan, #1)(44)

She wanted to tell him about the man with the beard and sunglasses who worked for Dempsey who’d been watching her. To suggest that maybe he’d come into her house somehow, but she couldn’t without telling him the rest.

Not possible.

Not yet.

Matt was too ethical to understand her actions.

“Where are you now?”

That wasn’t exactly the response she’d expected. “I’m almost home, why?”

“Just stay in the car when you get there. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

The call ended, and she wanted to call him back and tell him she had plans for a long hot bath and some time to think but opted not to bother. Matt was very much like her. When he made up his mind to do something, he wasn’t likely to change it.

When she turned onto her block, a silver sedan parked at the curb in front of her house had her wondering what the hell now. She turned into her drive and parked. Matt had said not to go inside. She glanced at the other car. The driver’s side door had opened, and a man had exited. Not Montrose or anyone else she recognized.

Rather than sit there and wait for her visitor to walk up and knock on her window, she opened the door and got out. The man was youngish, maybe her age, tall, fit. Requisite suit. Gold shield hanging on his pocket.

Definitely a cop.

“Ms. O’Sullivan, I was hoping to catch you.”

Catch her? Had he been waiting for her? For how long? She was going to have to break down and get one of those doorbell monitors.

“Well, you’ve caught me. What can I do for you, Detective?”

He paused a few steps from where she stood. “I’m Eric Houser. I’ve been assigned to your husband’s case.”

The new guy. Okay. She extended her hand. He shook it. Firm shake. Dry palm. Snazzy dresser. Dark hair cut military short. Nice eyes. Attractive face. She thought of one of her grandmother’s sayings: Pretty is as pretty does.

“Let me know if I can help you in any way,” she offered. “It’s been a year. I’d really love to see progress on the investigation.”

“I understand.” He dipped his head in silent acknowledgment. “I know this is difficult for you, but at your convenience I’d like us to sit down and go over that night. Talk about the work that’s been done on the case so far. That sort of thing.”

“I’d invite you in,” she started, “but—”

“No, no.” He held up both hands, palms out. “I’m not here for that now.” He gave her a kind smile. “I wouldn’t ambush you by showing up out of the blue. I just wanted to introduce myself. We can talk whenever is good for you.”

Interesting strategy. He was good too. She would almost believe how kind and considerate he might be if not for the fact she knew her name was being bandied about in a negative way. Then again, he was the new guy. Maybe he wasn’t privy to what the old guard was up to.

“Monday sound okay to you?” she asked. “Ten o’clock?”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

“Your office?”

“If that’s comfortable for you.”

Give me a break. “Sure.”

“Well then, have a nice weekend.”

“You too.”

She watched him walk toward his car once more. It was probably the strangest meeting she’d had with a detective ever.

She reached back into her car for her bag.

“Oh, one thing.”

His words had her rising up too quickly and bumping her head. She drew out of the car. “Excuse me?”

He stood halfway between her car and his. “Did you know your husband only bought this house two weeks before you met?”

“What?” Not possible. Derrick had been working on the house for months when they’d met.

“The previous owner . . .” Houser removed a small notepad from his jacket pocket and previewed the top page. “One Ted Walker was in the middle of flipping the place when Derrick Reed made him an offer he couldn’t refuse for the place as is.”

The idea was ludicrous. “Do you have evidence of what you’re saying?”

“I do.” He tucked away his notepad. “I’ll share it with you on Monday.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

What the hell?

He waved again as he drove off. Finley was torn between fury and shock. He had to be wrong. Derrick would never have kept something like that from her. There hadn’t been any reason for him to lie to her. The story made no sense at all.

Another vehicle turned into her drive.

Matt. Relief washed over her.

He climbed out of the car, a bag in one hand.

“Hey,” she said, suddenly feeling incredibly weary.

“Hey yourself. I have new locks for your doors.” He held up the Walmart bag as he walked toward her.

She almost laughed despite the emotions whirling inside her. “You know how to change a lock?”

He laughed and bumped her elbow with his. “I do. I’ll have you know I am a man of many talents.”

The urge to lean against him and just bawl was nearly overwhelming. Finley was no crier, but she was suddenly so tired. She wanted Derrick back. She wanted the people who had destroyed their lives to pay.

She didn’t want to feel so disconnected from everything and everyone anymore.