The Wife Who Knew Too Much(94)
His toe had stopped bleeding, at least.
“It’s him,” I said in a small voice. “I know because he was shot in the foot last night.”
The detective stepped to the head of Connor’s gurney and prepared to lift the sheet. “I’m sorry but we can’t rely on that for the ID.”
“Yes, I understand. Go ahead. I want to see him.”
The breath left my body as he pulled the sheet aside.
Connor looked like himself, his perfect features so familiar, his dark lashes lying against his pale cheeks. He was just tired, I told myself, and pallid, and lying very still. I stepped up beside him and reached for his face, desperate to touch him again, as if my caress could awaken him from this terrible sleep. The detective stopped my hand.
“No contact.”
“Please.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. His body is evidence in the homicide investigation.”
I doubled over in my grief, my hands on my stomach. It was just beginning to sink in that this baby would never know her father.
“He was shot protecting me. I want that known.”
“Of course. We’d like to get your perspective, as soon as you’re ready to be interviewed. Your husband’s, uh—your husband will be released to you after the autopsy. I’m going to cover him again, okay?”
I nodded wordlessly.
“I’m sorry, but I need to ask one more favor. We have a second victim here, a female, who was found deceased from a gunshot wound in the passenger seat of the Suburban. The circumstances of her death are under investigation. We’ve tentatively identified her as Juliet Davis, though I understand that may be an alias. If you could—”
“Yes. Show me.”
He pulled the sheet aside.
“That’s her,” I said. It gave me no pleasure that Juliet had lost her life. It wouldn’t bring Connor back.
“What happened to Steve Kovacs?”
“Shot in a firefight with our officers. In surgery. Not expected to make it.”
We returned to the conference room. I collapsed into a chair. Someone brought me a glass of water. The detectives and Liz talked around me, but I had trouble understanding what they were saying. Eventually, it was agreed I’d go home with Liz and return tomorrow for a full debriefing, after I’d had a chance to rest.
Somebody lent me a coat, a red puffer jacket from the lost and found. I followed Liz out to the parking lot. It was starting to snow in sharp, icy crystals that stung my cheeks and made me cold deep in the bone. She cleared a box of tissues and a stuffed animal off the passenger seat of her minivan and threw them in the back. I sank down and breathed deeply. I’d ridden in Liz’s car a few times before. It still smelled like Goldfish crackers and sports equipment. Life went on for some people, but mine would never be the same. Being with Connor was a dream that I never quite believed in. And now it was over, before it had really begun.
Liz started the car and turned up the heat. Just then, the baby gave me a hard kick, and I remembered that I wasn’t alone. That I had her. And that part of him would live on in her. My hand flew to my midsection. The wonder of the moment must have shined in my eyes, because Liz turned to me with a sad smile.
“When are you due?” she asked.
43
One year later
Some things are too good to be true. Connor was like that. He was fireworks against the night sky—spectacular and beautiful and gone much too soon. Yet, he’d left me a legacy that would last.
My daughter slept in the baby carrier, snuggled against my chest, as I walked into the conference room and shook hands with my lawyer.
“I’m so glad you brought her. Can I see?”
I turned sideways so Meg’s face was visible. Her thumb was in her mouth, her sooty lashes forming perfect half-moons against the velvet of her cheeks.
“Beautiful,” she said.
“She has her daddy’s eyes.”
“I remember when we first met, and you told me you were expecting.”
“Ugh, in that jail cell? I’d rather not think about it.”
“You’ve been through a lot, Tabitha. I know you don’t have the appetite for a fight, but you can still change your mind. It’s a lot to give up for her. Are you sure?”
I’d come to my lawyer’s office today to sign a settlement agreement. At the time of his death, Connor was the legal heir to Nina Levitt’s fortune, and as Connor’s heir, I’d stepped into that position. But the estate was still subject to the lawsuit by Nina’s sister, Kara Baxter, who’d argued in court that Connor shouldn’t inherit because he was responsible for Nina’s death. I knew that was a lie. And I couldn’t allow his name to be publicly sullied. So, I’d hired Suzanne Cohen again, to prove Connor’s innocence in court for all the world to see. With the recording from that awful night, we had the evidence to win the case outright. Kara Baxter’s lawyers knew that. They’d begged us to settle for half the estate. But that just didn’t feel right to me. I saw no reason why I should get half of Nina’s vast fortune. Not only didn’t I know Nina, but I’d slept with the poor woman’s husband. I felt guilty about that to this day, so how could I take her money? But neither did I see why Kara should get it. The two of them had been estranged for decades, and Kara had willfully lied about Connor and me, smearing us in the press and setting off our troubles.