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“He’s at baseball practice.” Clint emptied what was left in the bottle between the two glasses.
Good,she thought. She needed Clint to feel free to talk, relax, and to have his full attention. Holly lifted her glass and found herself staring at the concrete patio beyond the sliding door. She resisted the shiver that ran through her as she pictured Diana’s body lying there after Clint pushed her off the balcony.
“You want to sit on the couch?” He gestured to the room behind her.
She tore her gaze from the slider. “That sounds great.”
Clint wore a plaid button-down shirt, similar to what he’d worn every time she’d seen him. His hazel eyes softened as they locked with hers. “Look, I’m sorry for walking out on you the other night.”
Holly shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been discussing your wife’s death with Laurie. It’s none of my business.”
Clint took a drink from his wine. “I overreacted. I guess it’s still a touchy subject for me even all these years later.”
Holly studied him as he took another drink.He’s a good actor.She took a small sip from her own. While they were on the subject, she needed to keep him talking.
“Is it hard for you to live here after what happened?”
She half-expected him to bristle at the question, but instead, he seemed to ponder it.
“Surprisingly, no. Most of the time, the house reminds me of the good times with Diana. Makes me feel close to her. I don’t think I’ll ever leave. It’s comforting, the memories I have with her here.”
“It must’ve been such a shock when she died,” Holly said, hoping to keep him on the subject.
He nodded. “She wasn’t herself that night.” He lowered his gaze to his wine. “I hate myself for going to sleep, knowing shewas down here drinking, and how alcohol affected her.” He ran a finger along the rim. “It was January, and she always got a little glum in the winter. After she had John, the blues turned into something worse. I should’ve gotten her help.”
Holly placed a hand on his knee. “It’s not your fault,” she lied.
“John doesn’t know this—” Clint lifted his eyes toward a framed photograph above the fireplace mantel.
Holly followed his gaze to a photo of him and John, both dressed in camo, posing on either side of a large deer, each holding up its head by the antlers. Beside it, she realized, was a photo of Clint, Diana, and John when John looked to be about four.
“But in Diana’s suicide note,” Clint continued, “she mentioned taking John with her. I think she’d gone a little crazy and was contemplating killing him so they wouldn’t be apart.” He sighed, nearly finishing what was left in his glass. “It still shakes me up just thinking about it.”
No, she wasn’t. Diana was planning to leave you and take John with her, away from his murderous father.“Wow, that’s awful.” Holly feigned shock, putting a hand on her heart. This man was an expert at covering his tracks.
Clint slung his arm around the back of Holly’s shoulders. Her heart thumped against her chest, imagining him strangling John’s teacher the night before.
“Is this okay?”
He must’ve noticed her body tense.
Holly forced a smile. “It’s more than okay.”
“I’m out of practice being with a woman.”
Liar.Holly took another sip. She searched Clint’s eyes, debating how she could bring up the teacher without giving away her suspicion. She wondered if he knew her death was all over the news. She tried to relax against his arm, deciding to wait until he’d had more to drink.
Clint tilted his empty glass toward hers, still half full of what he’d poured her. “You want more wine?”
“That would be great.” Holly took another drink.
“I’ll open another bottle.”
Clint stood and retreated to the kitchen, leaving Holly alone in the living room. She glanced over her shoulder before getting up to take a closer look at the photo on the mantel.
The photo looked to have been taken in front of their house. At the sight of Clint’s late wife, her breath stuck in her lungs. She stood beside Clint, her mouth half open in laughter looking at her young son held in Clint’s arms. She was beautiful, her blue eyes bright with happiness.
She doesn’t look depressed.