If I Only Knew(2)

I push the button to send a voice message to Heather.



* * *



Me: Hey, can you meet me at the station? Something happened with Peter.





* * *



The roads going this way aren’t busy, and I make it there before Heather returns my text. Shit. I call Peter’s assistant’s cell phone, but it goes to voicemail. Figures. The one time she doesn’t have the damn thing permanently glued to her hand.

I decide I’m just going to have to go in and deal with it. I know where he keeps the extra money in case we ever need it for something like this. I’ll bail him out and then I’m going to beat him with his own torn-off arms.

When I get through the doors, Heather is standing there. “Hey!” I say, relief flowing through me. “I tried to message you.”

“Hey.” Her smile is small.

“Thank God you’re here. Did you find out what Peter did? I wasn’t sure the protocol on bailing someone out . . .”

She nods. “Danni,” her voice is soft. “I . . . it’s not . . . this isn’t like that.”

“What?” I ask as my throat goes dry. “Like what? I can’t get him out? Did he do something really bad? Jesus Christ! He did, didn’t he?”

Fear starts to fill my body as I wonder what the hell is going on. Heather doesn’t look me in the eyes. Instead, she releases a deep breath and her eyes fill will tears. This can’t be good. She’s not a crier and definitely not over Peter. My best friends accept my husband, but they’ll never forgive him for all that happened years ago.

If she’s on the verge of tears, this isn’t bad, it’s worse than bad.

Heather steps forward. “Danni, Peter was shot at his office earlier today and,” her lip trembles.

I hear the words, but I don’t want to believe them.

“Why am I here then?” I start to step back. “I should be at the hospital!”

“Danielle,” she says in her police voice. “He’s not at the hospital.”

“Why not?” I scream out. “Why didn’t you take him there? Why the hell am I here?”

“Because I wanted to be the one to tell you . . .”

One sentence says it all.

“Don’t say it,” I beg. “Don’t tell me because it’s not true. It can’t be true!”

“He’s gone, honey.” She steps forward and I start to crumble, but she catches me. We crumple to the floor as she holds me in her arms. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. We tried everything. I got the call, I was on scene as soon as I could, but there was no saving him.”





Chapter One





Danielle





Sixteen Months Later


“I like this property, Callum. The land is already partially cleared. It’s a prime location for this project,” I explain with my best authoritative voice.

The price tag may be a little bigger than he wants, but it’s a great piece of land. In the last year, I’ve found that my boss doesn’t often question me. He knows I’m good at my job, even if I only work part-time, and the fact that he happens to be my dear friend Nicole’s husband give us a sense of trust. My work ethic has only further solidified that.

“It’s a lot of money, Danni. A lot more than I told you I was willing to spend,” his eyes are hard, but with an edge of softness. His British accent makes him sound sterner than he really is. I imagine if I was anyone else, he’d have none of the kindness I see.

“I know.” I sit in the chair. “If you were to go with the other lot, I think you’ll lose money. There’s too much competition in that part of the town for the types of stores you’re looking to build, but this one has a thriving community that is desperate for options. The price tag might be a little higher, but the return will be as well.”

Living here my whole life, I have a great sense of the people. My job is to scour the surrounding area to find land for Dovetail Enterprises to develop on at the lowest price, and to assist on special projects like this one.

Normally, Dovetail would find an aging development, knock it down, and build a new high-rise or something fancy. This time, Callum wants to build a community by cleaning up one that’s a little run down. He’s a good man, and it’s part of why I wanted to work for him.

“I see.” Callum looks at the survey a little closer.

Instead of giving him the cheaper option, I hoped he’d see the value this one could offer. It was a risk, but he’s a smart man who can spot a good opportunity.

I lived here before my husband moved us out to the suburbs, when we could only afford to live in the crappy part of town. I remember our first place, which was only a few blocks from this property, with a new baby. We were so broke, being parents much sooner than we planned, and pretending we had our shit together. Peter was an associate at his firm and I had just started in real estate. We were making pennies, paying student loans, and then once Ava was walking, he insisted we get out of there and we became even broker thanks to our house payment.

As soon as I think of Peter, my chest aches. I miss him.

I miss him so much sometimes that I can’t breathe.

No amount of time has eased the pain that sits inside of me, festering, clawing up my throat until I choke on it. I’ve gotten very good at hiding my agony.