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She drops my hand and looks away. She grabs her bag, clutching the straps until her knuckles go white. “Because I found him first.”
“What?” I chuck the sunglasses off my face. They fly halfway across the room and land under a little old lady's chair. I quickly glance down.
Leah leans closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “That day I saw his face on your phone, I felt so bad. I had no idea you were his fiancée and I was the other woman. I could barely look at you, I was afraid you’d see how awful I was.” She gulps, wiping at the angry red tear stains on her cheeks. For as beautiful as she is, she's an ugly crier. It's only fair.
“And then he wouldn’t stop bugging you.” She hiccups. "I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I went to your apartment after work that day he stopped by and was a jerk. I had to come clean. I knocked on your door but it was already open and when I tapped it, it fell open more.” She swallows hard. “I took a step inside and then I saw him. In the tub. Dead.”
Tears run from her eyes like waterfalls now. “I was so scared I just ran. But twenty minutes later I’d convinced myself my mind was playing tricks on me, and he was just taking a bath or something with his clothes on. I was in shock. I thought maybe you had killed him, and I didn’t know what to do.”
Her too? Why does everyone keep assuming I’m capable of killing a man?
“It wasn’t until the next morning that I decided to call the cops,” Leah continues, “but by then the salon chat was already blowing up with a story that you had found a dead person. And then I wondered if maybe I could have saved him if I hadn’t gotten scared and ran.”
“Oh, Leah.” I grab her hand. “That must have been so scary for you.”
“For me?” She sniffs. “What about you? You found him too.”
“Yeah, but I hated him more.” I try to make light of the situation, but none of this is light.
Something's not sitting right. Leah said she saw him from the front door, which was open, but when I found him the door was closed, and so was the shower curtain. So, either the killer came back, or he was still there when she was.
“Leah, did you see anyone in my apartment?”
She sniffs and wipes her nose with a napkin. “No. Why? Are you in danger?” Her hands tremble around the napkin.
This is how normal people react when they find a body. Not smiling during an interrogation. I don't need to scare her any more than I already have.
I squeeze her hand, hoping to comfort her. “Don’t worry about me, I have an annoying FBI agent watching out for me.”
Her eyes flick to something over my shoulder. “Is it that pissed-off guy behind you?”
I cringe, sensing his very angry presence.
“That would be me.”
Chapter 41
Amelia
“Caleb?!” I spin, greeting him over-enthusiastically.
He doesn’t reply. He drops down in the chair across from me, jostling the table with his excessive muscles and frightening facial features. His eyes are on mine, a silent dismissal for Leah.
“I, uh,” Leah clears her throat, “have that appointment soon. I should go. But call me, okay?”
“Of course.” I offer her a side hug and a silent plea to not leave me with this man who looks ready to rip my head off.
She doesn’t get the message. I really need to work on my telepathy.
I wait until she’s gone before addressing the elephant at my table. “So, fancy meeting you—”
“I told you not to leave your room,” he barks. “I told you not to go anywhere, without me.”
I take a deep breath. “I had to talk to Leah, and I didn’t want you to jump the gun and arrest her.”
His gaze turns icy. “Because I make a habit of handcuffing people without at least waiting for an explanation. What were you thinking, Amelia? What if she had been the killer? What if she had a gun in her handbag and forced you to leave with her?”
That is…a very good thought I had not considered. “I knew she was innocent.”