Surely he won’t want to maintain that yellow-and-white nursery now. Wait…does he expect me to move in there, and for our baby to fill that crib? Like we’re some kind of plug-and-play family?
I repress a shudder.
“Colleen, there’s something I need to tell you,” he says, turning onto the east end of Cypress Street. “The detectives have a warrant to search Ravenwood. They’re probably already there. We have to grab a couple bags, let the police search through them, and then leave right away.”
“This is ridiculous! You didn’t have anything to do with Joanna’s death! What do they think they’re going to find?”
At that, he weaves his fingers through mine, lifts my hand to his lips, and plants the softest kiss there. “Thank you for your trust in me, darling. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you alone since they showed up, and I wasn’t sure what you thought—if you were thinking I had something to do with—”
“Michael,” I interrupt fiercely, “you are not a killer. You are the kindest, sweetest, most thoughtful man I’ve ever met. I love you more than anything in this world. We’re going to get through this together. Everything is going to be perfect. You said it yourself.”
“The fact that you’ve never questioned me about anything—not even my past with her—means more than you know. You’re my angel.” He gives my hand a squeeze, and as we drive over a hill, the ocean comes into view on the horizon, vast and dazzling blue, melting into the sky. “I love you, Coll.”
His angel. My heart flutters. And just like that, smack dab in the messy middle of a murder investigation, all is right in the world again.
“Where are we going to stay?” I ask, watching houses fly by out the passenger window. “A hotel in the city, maybe?”
He drops his hand from mine and rests his elbow on the door. “You’re not going to like it.” His eyes are on the road. His voice scares me, just a little. What now?
“Where?”
“Rachael extended an invitation to—”
“Oh, Michael, please don’t tell me we’re staying with them!”
“It’s one night.” He exhales heavily. “Maybe two. Only until the cops are done searching Ravenwood. Then we can go back.”
I don’t know if I can keep up the charade another night, let alone two. I can’t keep pretending Rachael is wonderful when I can’t shake the feeling she’s going to stab me in the back the instant I turn around. And there’s something about Travis…There’s nothing I’d like more than to put distance between us. Instead, we’re sleeping over. Talk about torture.
“I’m sure you don’t want to hear about this either, sweetheart, but I have to start planning her funeral,” he continues. “Heather Chapman, Joanna’s sister, came in to confirm DNA, but she’s already gone back to L.A. She’s making a quick trip up Thursday to help with the details.”
“When will the funeral be?” I try to keep my voice steady. I can’t believe Joanna’s sister is making Michael responsible for this.
“Don’t know. Detective Patel says they won’t release Joanna’s”—he clears his throat—“body…until the county coroner’s report is finished, but that all depends on how busy their office is. He said he’d let us know.”
“That’s not very helpful,” I say, trying to keep my frustration in check. “How are you supposed to plan a funeral when you don’t know when they’ll release her?”
And how is he supposed to get any kind of closure? Or move on with his life, when everything remains up in the air?
“Heather and I will go over all the details, but we’ll have to wait to finalize the date until we hear back from the detectives. There’s nothing more we can do.”
I’m about to rant about the ineptitude of the county coroner’s office when Michael makes the final turn onto our street.