coming over." His rebuttal was flimsy at best.
"You were early. Besides, you’re not an officer. You’re a detective. You’re better than this."
He stopped in front of the door. "Then tell me, Ensley. Who were you wearing it for? Your husband? If he's alive and you know where he is...tell me now."
I couldn't do that. "You were supposed to figure out what he's been up to." That was the only reason I'd involved the police in the first place. And maybe a little for the notoriety. "You weren't supposed to arrest me. He's the guilty one."
"And if he's alive when we find him, we'll talk to him about what he did to Sophia."
"Sophia?" I tried to keep my voice even. "What about everything he did to me?"
"There's no proof that he was drugging you. There's no proof that he hurt you. It would be your word against his. But if you tell me where he is, maybe we can work something out. Maybe you can be home in time for Christmas."
I didn't care about Christmas. And I certainly didn't care about this home. All I cared about was Snuggle Muffins and Noah. I swallowed hard. Noah? I didn't care about Noah. I hated Noah. He was an asshole. And he left me tied up upstairs. Me being in handcuffs was his fault. All of this was his fault. So why the hell did I still care about him?
“He hurt me,” I said.
Detective Torres pulled me closer to the front door. “And when I told you about Sophia, you looked me in the eye and swore that he never hurt you. So, I don’t believe you.”
“Why? Because I don’t have my face beaten like Sophia? Are you seriously telling me I waited too long to come forward? What kind of fucked up policy is that? Time doesn’t erase the fact that he hurt me.”
“Time erases the proof.”
“Bullshit. Time doesn’t erase anything. My memories are proof. The fact that I can’t sleep at night is proof. All the drugs in my system are proof. And I’m telling you that he…”
“Ensley, just tell me where he is. Either we go to the station and we talk about it there or you just tell me here. Where is your husband? Final chance to tell me the truth.”
I pressed my lips together.
“If he’s alive, why won’t you tell me where he is?”
“Because I did something bad.” Really, really bad. I swallowed hard. I’d already said too much.
“What did you do?”
I shook my head. The only way out of this was Noah walking through the front door and helping me. I couldn’t go to jail. I wouldn’t be able to explain my way out of this. But Noah loved me. He swore he did. He’d help me out of this mess that he’d created. Or it would be the proof Detective Torres needed to send me away for a long time. It came down to how well he’d studied my case. How thoroughly he knew both me and my dear husband.
I was pretty sure I knew Detective Torres better than he knew me. I’d watched all the interviews. I’d studied him when he should have been studying me. He’d let one guilty housewife get away. And I was banking on the fact that he’d let another one go too.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll tell you everything.”
He let me turn away from the front door to face him. And it was lucky that I did, or else I would have made a terrible mistake. I would have jeopardized everything when I didn’t have to.
Because Noah was standing behind him. And that alone was enough to have my brain forming a whole new plan. One that involved absolutely no chance of me winding up behind bars. I just needed a second to think, but Noah’s stupid elf costume was distracting me from focusing.
Detective Torres must have seen the glee on my face, because he turned to see what I was looking at. "Noah?” he asked and then laughed. “Jesus, man. Your wife made it seem like you were dead.” He thrust his hand out for him to shake. “Nice to finally see you in the flesh. I was worried there for a second.”
The plans in my head stopped formulating. I blinked. Detective Torres called him Noah. Detective Torres saw it too? I wasn’t crazy. I touched the side of my forehead as I stared at Noah. Really stared. The laugh lines around his eyes. His dark hair. His slightly lighter