“Oh, you have a home there, don’t you?” she said to Eli, then gestured to Abra. “I’ll show you.”
It gave Eli a chance to gauge the ground. An attractive woman, he thought, an attractive house in an upscale neighborhood with well-tended gardens, a thick green lawn.
About fifteen years of marriage, he recalled, and two attractive kids.
But Suskind had tossed it all aside. For Lindsay? he wondered. Or for an obsessive treasure hunt?
A few moments later, both Eden and Abra came out again with a tray holding a pitcher and a trio of tall, square glasses.
“Thanks,” Eli began. “I know this has been hard for you.”
“You would know. It’s terrible to realize the person you trust, the person you’ve built a life with, a home with, a family with, has betrayed you, has lied. That the person you love betrayed that love and made a fool of you.”
She sat at the round teak table under the shade of a deep blue umbrella. Gestured them to join her.
“And Lindsay,” Eden continued. “I considered her a friend. I saw her almost every day, often worked with her, had drinks with her, talked about husbands with her. And all the time she was sleeping with mine. It was like being stabbed in the heart. For you, too, I guess.”
“We weren’t together when I found out. It was more a kick in the gut.”
“So much came out after . . . It had gone on nearly a year. Months of lying to me, of coming home from her to me. It makes you feel so stupid.”
She addressed the last directly to Abra, and Eli saw Abra had been right. Another woman, a sympathetic one, made it all easier.
“But you weren’t,” Abra said. “You trusted your husband, and your friend. That’s not stupid.”
“I tell myself that, but it makes you question yourself, what do you lack, what don’t you have, didn’t you do? Why weren’t you good enough?”
Abra put a hand over hers. “It shouldn’t, but I know.”
“We have two kids. They’re great kids, and this was devastating for them. People talk, we couldn’t shield them from it. That was the worst.” She sipped at her tea, fought visibly to conquer tears. “We tried. Justin and I tried to hold it together, to make it work. We went to counseling, took a trip together.” She shook her head. “But we just couldn’t put it back together. I tried to forgive him, and maybe I would have, but I couldn’t trust him. Then it started again.”
“I’m sorry.” Now Abra squeezed her hand.
“Fool me once,” Eden continued, blinking her eyes clear. “Late nights at the office, business trips. Only this time, he wasn’t dealing with someone ready to be stupid or trusting. I’d check on him, and I knew he wasn’t where he said he’d be. I don’t know who she is, or if there’s more than one. I don’t care. I just don’t care anymore. I have my life, my kids—and finally a little pride. And I’m not ashamed to say when I divorce him, I’m going to gut him like a fish.”
She let out a breath, a half laugh. “I’m still pretty mad, obviously. I took him back, after what he’d done, and he threw it in my face. So.”
“I didn’t have time to make that choice.” Eli waited until Eden looked back up and over at him. “I didn’t have much time to be mad. Someone killed Lindsay the same day I found out what she’d done, what she’d been doing even when I thought we were trying to make our marriage work.”
Sympathy covered Eden’s face as she nodded. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. When I was at my lowest, when the news seemed to be round-the-clock about her death, the investigation, I tried to imagine what it would be like if Justin had been the one murdered.”
She pressed her fingers to her lips. “That’s terrible.”
“I don’t think so,” Abra said quietly.
“But even at my lowest, I couldn’t imagine it. I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel in your place, Eli.” She paused a moment, sipped her tea. “You want me to tell you I lied to protect him. That he wasn’t with me that night. I wish I could. God, I wish I could.” She closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t think that way about him. We made two beautiful children together. But right now I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. The truth is, Justin came home that