Every Last Secret(71)

I flinched at the sight of Matt, his eyes bloodshot, his hair wild. He looked like he hadn’t shaved today, his paunchy cheeks covered in a fine layer of stubble. His T-shirt, a baggy graphic tee that I could have sworn I’d thrown out, boasted the words Don’t Be A, followed by a photo of a rooster and a lollipop. I hated that stupid shirt. He’d picked it up at a cheap tourist shop on Duval Street and insisted on wearing it on the cruise ship home, despite my staunch opposition to the garment.

So, this was the path he was taking. A childish T-shirt and making me get a taxi home. I pinned him with a look and went to step inside. He didn’t budge, his body blocking the doorway.

I glared at him. “Are you going to move?”

“You have ten minutes to get anything you need out of the house.” He spoke slowly, his words slurring. “Any longer and I’ll have that officer escort you out.” He pointed to one of the police cars parked on the edge of our drive, its parking lights dimmed.

I gawked at him. He was the one who had thrown me under the bus, he was the one who had given them the code to the safe, yet he was throwing me out? “Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours? I had to take a taxi here. Why aren’t you answering my calls?”

“I loved you.” He wilted a little against the doorframe, but he would forgive me for the affair. He just needed some time. Some soothing. A reminder of how much he loved and needed me.

“Move out of the way.” I pushed forward, using my shoulder to force him back. My purse strap caught on the door handle, and I yanked, almost tripping over Matt in an attempt to get fully inside the door. “What are you—” I shoved off him and made it to my feet. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” He gripped the door with one hand and slung it closed with a ferocity that shook the entire wall. “You hired someone to kill me.”

“Oh my God.” I threaded my arms across my chest, watching as he thudded past me and into the kitchen. I followed him, pulling on his arm. “Matt. You can’t honestly believe that.”

“I believe it,” he sputtered. “You pathetic whore.”

My mouth gaped, and there was a full moment where I couldn’t even formulate a reaction. Matt didn’t speak to anyone like that, much less me. I couldn’t think of a time he’d ever said anything remotely rude to me. He knew better. Yet now, after everything I’d been through, had been accused of, he was making it worse. I swallowed. “You never called Mitchell, did you?”

It had been so embarrassing, expecting to see our attorney and then having a public defender walk in. The man had taken ages to appear and hadn’t known anything about me or Matt or our history. Mitchell would have known I was innocent. Mitchell knew me. I could have told Mitchell everything and not sounded like a . . . a . . . a pathetic whore.

Matt’s accusation echoed, the words fitting for how I had felt in front of that public defender. I’d been forced to tell him the intimate details of my relationship with William and had seen the judgment flicker across the man’s craggy face. I’d hotly contested his questions about hiring someone to kill Matt and could tell he didn’t believe me.

“Oh, I called Mitchell,” Matt sneered. “I called Mitchell and made it very clear where his loyalties should lie.”

My cheeks burned at the realization that Matt was the reason the public defender had been assigned to me. And I had believed in him the entire time in the station. Assumed, however naively, that he had been back at home, believing in me.

I let out an awkward laugh and tried to understand where all this had gone so wrong. “But . . . it’s all crap, Matt. I didn’t hire someone to kill you. You know I didn’t do that.”

“So, I’m unlucky?” He lifted his arms out to each side, and I couldn’t believe I was being subjected to these accusations. I should be getting a hot shower right now. “I guess we just happened to be missing the screws on the railing I like to lean against every morning? I guess the liqueur you bought specifically for Cat just happened to contain antifreeze? I guess, out of all of the houses in this town, some random psychopath happened to come into ours, without breaking a single window or lock, and stick a gun in my mouth?”

“You can’t be serious,” I sputtered.

“Cat went to the hospital, Neena. I was one misfire away from death. Was it worth killing both of us for William?”

God, I hated that woman. Screw the shooter coming after my husband. He should have entered that diamond-encrusted mausoleum and shot her pretty little face right between the eyes. Then we’d be in our home, happy as pigs in crap, and it’d be their life being picked apart right now.

“You’re lucky that Cat kept the police from investigating that limoncello. We protected you,” he spat out.

“Were you protecting me when you told them to look in the safe? Did you enjoy stressing me out, holding that over my head?” I could feel tears burning at the corners of my eyes, my very thin thread of self-control frayed to breaking. “I fainted, Matt. I fainted when I thought that they were going to find my will. Why put me through that?”

“Oh, please.” He shook his head at me. “You’d already removed it. Probably destroyed it. What was there for you to faint over?”