Every Last Secret(68)

“Did Neena ever speak to you about a future between the two of you?”

“No.”

“Do you think she believed that there was a chance of a real relationship between the two of you, if Cat or Matt were out of the picture?”

He frowned. “I don’t know what Neena believed, but I never led her to think that there was any possibility of a relationship. I love my wife, and I made sure Neena understood that.”

Oh yes. I’m sure he was just gushing about me in that private boardroom. I’m sure Neena never even considered the possibility of stealing him away from me.

“We did uncover some unsettling items in the Ryders’ bedroom. Photos of William, some of both of you.” The second officer produced a file and pulled out photos, sealed in protective bags. William and I leaned forward, examining the pictures.

They were all familiar snapshots of our lives, and I glanced up at our visitors. “These are all from my Instagram profile. I’ve posted all these. She must have printed them out.”

William inhaled as he took in the large number of images.

“You said there were some photos of the two of us?” I prompted.

“Yes.” He pulled a second set of images from the accordion file. This set, when placed on the table, caused a visual flinch from William.

Hack jobs of my favorite photos. One of William looking tenderly down at me, my face replaced with a cutout of Neena’s face, beaming out. Another—one from our wedding, my dress topped with a too-large image of Neena, her grin angled toward William’s handsome face. And worst of all—the photo of him and me and my baby niece. She’d replaced my entire body with hers, the three of them making a demented Frankenstein family.

“There are also these.” The chief moved three more photos out of the stack, each one a demonic hack job of a group photo where Matt’s and my heads were cut off.

“This is psychotic,” William said quietly. “We need security on Cat. I’ll pay for protection for Matt as well—at least until Neena is locked up permanently.” He looked up at me. “You were right about her. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

I studied his taut features, the guilt and emotion clogging his eyes. Did he mean it? Was he sorry? I thought he was, but would I ever be able to trust him again?

I cleared my throat. “What exactly happened inside the house? Someone tried to attack Matt? Did they break in?”

“The intruder either had a key, or a door was left unlocked. He seemed to be a professional. There are no fingerprints, no shoe prints, no hair. He came in around two forty-five in the morning, put a gun in Mr. Ryder’s mouth while he was sleeping. Mr. Ryder woke up, then the intruder pulled the trigger.”

William let out a low curse.

“The gun misfired, Matt tried to grab at the gun, and the man fled. We weren’t able to track him down.”

“But you think he was hired? This isn’t someone who’s going to come back and try to kill Matt again?”

“We’re keeping two cars stationed at the Ryder house for the next few days, but our current thought is that Mrs. Ryder—or someone else—hired the hit. We’re doing an audit of Mr. Ryder’s bank and business accounts but haven’t found any evidence of gambling, money owed, or suspicious contacts. He seemed to be well liked and honest, so the list of people interested in killing him is slim.”

“He’s a good guy,” William said quietly, and I resented the look of guilt on his face. Matt was a good guy, but I had been a good wife. He had sworn to love, honor, and protect me, and that’s where his guilt should have been focused.

I straightened in place. “Where’s Neena now?”

“She’s at the station being questioned. They’re going through all the evidence with her. I’d like to say that we’ll keep her there, but to be frank, we have a lot of speculative evidence but nothing hard. Though this has been a very scary incident for Matt, there hasn’t been an actual crime, just an attempt at one. And we’re going off Matt’s testimony for that—nothing else.”

William raised a brow at me, and I knew what he was thinking of—my trip to the emergency room. The poison in my system. Just yesterday we’d gotten the call from the hospital confirming the presence of antifreeze in my stomach. I shook my head at him, wanting him to stay quiet.

“Is William an official suspect?” Randall spoke up from his end of the table.

The detective and chief exchanged a glance. “At this moment, he’s not even an unofficial suspect. We will let you know if that changes.”

“In that case,” William said, “I think we’re done for now.” He pushed on the arms of his chair and stood, running a hand roughly through his hair. “Please, take those photos. Looking at them makes me sick.”

The chief was the first to rise, and she gave a curt nod. “We appreciate your time, Mr. Winthorpe. We’ll be back in touch if we have any more questions.”

“Call me William,” he corrected, coming around the desk and extending his hand to her. “And thank you for your discretion.”

“Well.” She grimaced. “I can’t promise it will last very long.” She opened up her large leather bag and slid the file and photos inside it. “We may need you to come to the station at some point, but I’ll try to contain everything, as best as I can, from this end.”