Page 84 of Against The Tide

AVERY

How many times do you have to tell a person you don’t know the answer to any of their questions before they start believing you?

“Come on, Mrs. Henderson, you can’t possibly expect us to believe that you are oblivious to everything we’ve asked.”

Every time they call me by my married name, I feel sick to the pit of my stomach. This entire conversation is sickening.

“You must understand how it looks for you to have filed for divorce so soon after the investigation was outed.”

“Wouldn’t you file for divorce if your…significant other was being unfaithful to you?” Glancing down from the agent’s dark eyes, I focus on his wedding ring. “Surely if you know about the filing, you are also aware of the circumstances?”

“Yes, we are.” The quieter of the two blows out a breath.

“Then you realize that your guised suggestion about how it looks doesn’t make sense.”

“Mrs. Hend⁠—”

“Please stop calling me that,” I ask, trying to stop my voice from rattling along with my insides. “You can call me Avery, or if you insist on carrying on with formalities, you can call me Miss Summers.”

Using my father’s name makes me sad. It’s a painful shock that highlights the fact that he’s gone. Like picking a scab, it leaves me raw, and my heart aches with a dull pain that lingers.

“Of course, Miss Summers,” the talkative one scoffs as though something about my name or the situation is funny. “I met your father once,” he tells me nonchalantly. “Everybody loved him.”

“He was a good man.”

“I’ve never read an obituary quite like his.”

Staring between the two of them, I’m left with a vacuum in the middle of my chest. It’s taking everything to hold myself together.

“If you think that you can rattle me by talking about my father, you are wrong. It might hurt, but it won’t make me tell you something I don’t know. You are wasting your time with me.”

“Your husband.” The smaller of the two raps his knuckles on the table. He’s an asshole, and he knows it. In fact, I bet he thinks it’s his best attribute with the way he’s grinning when I glare at him. “It must sting that he was the last person to see your father.”

A lead weight settles at the pit of my belly, churning and churning and churning at the statement. It takes me a second too long to recompose myself because the grin broadens as he leans back in the rattan seat opposite me.

What an odious man. The fact that he is enjoying this…

“I’ve answered all your questions as best as I can.” I stand and try to shake off the anger so that I don’t fall to pieces in front of them. “I would like you to leave now.”

No sooner have I said the words than Callie’s car comes into view. My insides twist at the thought that Iris is going to know why they’re here. I’m not even sure why it matters—it’s not as though I’ve done anything wrong or as if I’m hiding something. But my anxiety ratchets up a notch or two, and I start coming over clammy. Hot and cold sweats fluster through my body as my heart picks up its pace.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Summers.” The tall one stands, towering over me in a way that makes me cower away slightly.

Backing away, he nods at me with a small tip of his mouth while the shorter man edges closer. With a narrowed stare, he pauses right in front of me. “Yes, thank you for your time.”

“I don’t know anything,” I tell him again.

The agent scoffs without tearing his gaze from me. I shouldn’t have said anything else; I should’ve stayed quiet so that they would go. However, I’m flustered by his revelation about my father and Carl. He’s rattled me.

“I’ve heard that before.” He lifts his chin so that he can better look down on me since we’re about the same height.

“If you think of anything that might be useful”—his partner holds out his card—“please call me.”

When I don’t take it, he puts it down on the small glass-topped rattan coffee table before they both head back to their black Suburban.

“You doing okay?” Rhett asks, rounding the front porch to the side of the house where I’m still standing.

All I can do is look at him and nod. I don’t want to lie to him and tell him that I’m struggling to make the world stop spinning around me. I also don’t want him to think that I can’t handle things on my own. Getting him to hold back and stay inside while I spoke to the agents was hard enough.