Page 8 of The Husband's Secret
She glanced at the briefcase he carried. “Yes.”
He removed a credentials case from a pocket in his jacket and opened it to reveal a photo ID. “I’m Special Agent Jarrod Cummings with the FBI. May I have a few moments of your time?”
Ben appeared behind him, pizza boxes in hand. He looked from the man standing between them to Brenda. “Hello. Pizza’s here.”
Cummings turned slightly, glancing at the man who had walked up behind him. The agent stepped aside and allowed Ben to pass.
Brenda wasn’t sure what to say to either man.
“I’ll just take these to the kitchen,” Ben suggested.
She nodded, relieved to have one dilemma solved. When he’d gone into the kitchen, she looked to the agent. “I’m sorry. I just arrived home from a cross-country business trip. I’m exhaustedand my child is hungry. Can you leave a card, and we can do this tomorrow?”
Sounded reasonable to Brenda.
The man’s head moved slowly up and down as if he were considering her request rather than responding to it. Finally, he replied, “Sure.” He dug around in his pocket and produced a business card. “Call as early as possible,” he said. “This is a pressing matter.”
She accepted the card. “Can you tell me what it’s about?” The last thing she wanted to do was spend the night wondering.
“Your husband, Scott Devers.”
She wilted a little. What had she expected?
When the man walked away, she closed the door and sagged against it. What in the world? This was like something from one of her books. Only she hadn’t written the premise and had no clue what was coming.
Janey’s sweet little voice echoed from the kitchen. Brenda pushed away from the door and drifted in that direction. Her little girl sat on a stool at the island, munching on pizza, Ben next to her.
“Mommy, it’s good.” Janey grabbed another slice.
Brenda smiled. “Smells delicious.”
“I took the liberty,” her neighbor said as he tapped the bottle of wine Brenda had only just then noticed. Two stemmed glasses sat next to it. “I thought maybe you might want to celebrate. Mallory told me the movie deal was a go.”
Whether he knew it or not, he had chosen her favorite chardonnay. She might just hug the guy. “That would be so, so good right now.”
He opened the bottle and poured her and himself a glass. Brenda ate, realizing that the alcohol would go straight to her head if she didn’t eat first. Janey talked and munched, talked and munched. Mallory’s comment about their neighborobviously hadn’t put the child off and, thankfully, she didn’t repeat it.
Half an hour later, Janey proclaimed she was stuffed, and about that same time the grandfather clock counted off seven slow, deep dongs.
The child’s eyes went wide. “It’s time for my show!”
“First,” Brenda argued, “we wash hands.” She picked Janey up and took her to the sink to wash her face and hands. “Now you can watch your show, then it’s bedtime.”
As soon as Janey was on her feet, she rushed to the sofa and grabbed the remote. She knew how to turn the TV on and the proper channel to select. Brenda didn’t allow her to watch a lot of television, only her favorites.
“You seem unsettled,” Ben said when her attention shifted back to him. “Everything okay?” He shook his head. “I understand everything is not all right with all that’s happened. But is there something new? I thought you’d be celebrating.”
She eased onto a stool, her body and soul feeling heavy. “It has been a bizarre day.” Other than Mallory, Brenda really had no one to talk to. There was her agent, but she resisted the urge to talk with a work colleague about her personal life, especially the not-so-good parts. For the past six years she’d been totally absorbed in Scott’s world as far as socializing went, and that had dwindled until it was nonexistent. On top of that, having Janey had occupied so much of her time that between writing and being a mommy, she really had no time for socializing anyway. Mallory was always a good sounding board, but she was also biased. She thought Scott was a scumbag and that Brenda was an angel for putting up with him. Apparently he was.
Not to mention he was apparently alive.
Anger lit in her belly. They’d had a memorial service for him. Buried the remains of some stranger in the newly purchased plot at Maple Hill Cemetery.
So yes, he was a scumbag.
“Well.” She picked up her wineglass and drank deeply, then wiped her mouth.
Why not spill her guts to this man? They didn’t know each other. He was new in the neighborhood and appeared to be a bit of a loner, like her, so it wasn’t likely he would be telling anyone. At least not anyone she knew.
