“She was on Zoloft. It was prescribed by the good doctor,” she said. “There were two refills on it remaining.”
Honor whistled.
“That’s for pretty heavy depression. It’s also the same meds all the other women were on who died.”
Yes, yes, it was.
That alone screamed suspicious, and it wasn’t lost on either of them that Wynter had fit this detail, too.
“When was she picking it up?” Honor asked.
Bishop checked.
“She had a pickup scheduled for this morning. It’s filled and waiting for her at the pharmacy.”
Honor considered it.
“Maybe that’s why we couldn’t find any. Maybe she took her last pill yesterday, and threw out the bottle, knowing she would replace it today.”
Maybe.
All of this felt…off. Bishop couldn’t explain it, but her friend had gone through a lot of hoops just not to tell Ridge about her depression.
That was odd for her because Ridge was quite possibly the sweetest, kindest person she knew.
He’d never get angry.
So why all of this?
That was the question.
Closing that app, she opened the dead woman’s text messages next.
In them, she saw one from Ridge.
And it damn near broke her heart, too.
It was clear he’d written it sometime between her death and when they opened the phone.
She checked the time, and it was right after they left the office a little while ago.
“Jesus Christ,” Bishop said.
That had Honor’s attention.
“What?”
She showed her.
“Look.”
They read over the text together.
‘Wyn, I’m sorry. You’re gone now, and I don’t know how I’ll ever rebuild that connection to my heart again. I lost my wife, and she was my everything. I hope you didn’t suffer. I hope you can forgive me for not being there to save you. I’ll forever hold that in my heart that I should have come home with you. I should have been there to save you.
Or die with you.
I know you’ll never read this, but I needed to put it out there. I failed in our marriage. I failed as your husband. I don’t think that will ever heal in me. Knowing that you had faith in me, and I let you fall, will destroy me forever.