Chapter 12

CHELSEA

I watch Lynn drive away, then slowly make my way back to the house. The scent of coffee greets me as I open the front door. I head to the kitchen, pour myself a cup from the full pot, and don’t bother questioning its origin.

I stand at the screen door, taking in the view of the backyard. It’s a beautiful day, the kind that calls you outside. I push open the door and step onto the deck, then start walking down the hill toward the pond.

I settle into one of the Adirondack chairs, lean back, close my eyes, and soak up the sun. With my eyes shut, I tune into the sounds around me—the ducks in the water, the birds in the trees, the branches rustling in the breeze.

I sit there for a while, just taking it all in, letting the past twenty-four hours fade into the background.

Eventually, my butt starts to go numb, so I stand up and stretch. I notice some flowers off to my right, with what looks like a piece of wood standing among them next to the pond.

I walk over and see it’s a broken wooden cross with a name—Chris. The rest is unreadable.

“Someone’s memorial, I guess. But who?” I wonder aloud. As the words leave my mouth, Christopher appears beside me.

“Jesus, you scared me!” I exclaim, my hand instinctively landing on his chest.

“Sorry, thought you heard me coming,” he says.

“It’s fine, just don’t do it again,” I say, laughing. I look up at him and see he’s smiling. “What?” I ask.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful,” he says.

There’s something about his smile that gets to me. He’s handsome, well-built, and his eyes... I could lose myself in them. He has this charm that turns me into a puddle whenever he looks at me. He makes me forget everything that’s happening in my life.

I’m almost ready to strip down, lie on the picnic table, spread my legs, and let him fuck me senseless.

I shake my head, snapping out of my daydream. Christopher steps closer and places his hand on my lower back.

I look up at him. “Listen. I’ve had a rough day. I just found out my fiancé was in a terrible accident last night and is in a coma at the hospital.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.

His touch is gentle and warm, and all I want is to be held by him. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. I melt into his embrace, feeling a sense of calm wash over me.

He bends down and kisses my forehead. He lifts my chin, and I look up at him. He kisses my lower lip, then my lips. My body aches for his touch. His hand slips under my shirt, caressing my breast. I moan softly into his mouth. I close my eyes. “No!” I say, pulling away. “I can’t right now. I hope you understand.”

He looks at me, confusion written all over his face.

“I’ve known Brian almost my whole life. What he did was unforgivable, but I can’t forget what happened to him last night.” I start walking back up to the house.

I turn around. “I’m sorry. Maybe another night. Not today,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I turn back around and head inside.

I make my way to my office and sit on the window bench. I can still see Christopher standing at the top of the hill. He looks up at me, smiles, and gives a small wave before disappearing into the woods.

A tear slips down my cheek, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand. “Why are you crying?” I ask myself.

“I don’t know!”

“Well, something’s wrong.”

~Now I’m talking to myself!~

“I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Well, you’re acting like a teenager watching her crush walk away.”

“It’s not a crush.”

“So you love him?”

“What? No!”

I head to the bathroom and splash some water on my face. I look at myself in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together, Chelsea!”

There’s a loud knock at the front door.

I walk down the stairs and see a man in a crisp suit standing at my screen door. His pants are perfectly creased, his dark blue shirt is buttoned up to the collar, and a black tie matches his pants. A gun is holstered at his hip, a badge on his belt.

I open the screen door. “Can I help you?”

“Miss Payton. I’m Detective Adams. I’m investigating your fiancé’s accident. May I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure,” I say, closing the door behind me and taking a seat on the porch swing.

“Was Brian here yesterday afternoon?”

“Yes, he was.”

“Did you two have an argument?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Can you tell me what it was about?”

“Why?” I ask, looking up at him.

“Because the state police want to close this case as attempted suicide.”

“That’s bullshit!” I exclaim.

“I know it’s bullshit, that’s why I took over this case. I convinced my captain to let me investigate.”

“Is it because others have died there before?” I ask.

“Yes, it is. And every one of those cases was closed. No investigations, just closed,” he says, hands on his hips, looking down at me. “So what happened?”

“He cheated on me. In our own bed. I couldn’t take it, so I left him. He showed up here, begging for another chance. But I can’t. The memory is still too fresh.”

“Is he known for being unfaithful?” he inquires.

“No. This was the first time. He loved me. We were supposed to get married in a few months and move into the house we were building together.”

“Has he ever considered suicide before?”

“Never. He loved life, he loved me, he loved his mom,” I share with him.

“Alright, I’m going to switch gears a bit,” he announces.

“Okay,” I respond, wiping away my tears.

“How did you come to own this house?” he questions.

“My great-aunt left it to me in her will just last week. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” he replies.

“If you don’t mind, how did you know to find me here?”

“Brian had you listed as his EC in his phone.”

“What’s EC?”

“Emergency contact,” he explains, and I nod in understanding. “You weren’t picking up any calls. So I dialed a number you frequently call, it was Lynn. She directed me here.

“I need to meet up with my partner. He’s waiting for me by the big oak tree. If you have any questions or if you remember something we might have overlooked, don’t hesitate to call me.”

He hands me his business card, then turns and heads towards his black Ford Explorer with tinted windows. Before he climbs into his car, he pulls out his phone and starts snapping pictures of the house.

“Take care,” he says before getting into his car.

I watch him as he drives away. I get up from the swing and head back into the house. I toss the card onto the kitchen counter and make my way back upstairs to my office.