Secretly Craving You(22)
She shivered, visualizing the whole grisly and tragic scene. "That information alone would make me suspect foul play. Jared always buckled up while driving, and more than once after spending a night out drinking, he'd come home in a taxi."
Nick nodded. "Did that happen a lot while you two were married—Jared drinking too much?"
Did she have to answer that? She'd rather forget Jared's binges and how he became like a different person during them. "Yes, several times. His drink of choice was expensive scotch. He could put away a good portion of a fifth at one time. That's when he became infuriating and critical."
Nick frowned, his perceptive gaze locking on hers. "Did he ever hurt you?"
She shook her head. "Not physically, anyway." Emotional pain was another subject altogether. "He tried to one time. He struck out with his fist, but I dodged aside. I told him if he ever tried that again…" She shook her head, her throat constricting with the dark memory.
Nick took her hand from her lap and squeezed it, surrounding it with the warmth and strength of his. "Damn," he muttered in an angry tone. "You don't know how that makes me feel. If he was here, I'd knock him on his ass for that."
"Thanks," she whispered, her aching throat still tight. Not because of some long ago memory now, but because Nick would so quickly leap to her defense.
"You should be treated like—I don't know—a queen." His eyes intensified, and she knew he was sincere.
The difference between Jared and Nick was almost shocking.
He released her hand and she immediately missed the heat of his touch. What was wrong with her? She suddenly felt emotionally raw and vulnerable.
"Thanks." She shrugged, needing to fill the uncomfortable silence. "He never loved me. He only married me because of who my extended family is. Lots of politicians and businessmen, you know. A congressman."
"But why? He didn't need the money."
She shook her head. "No. I don't want this to sound snooty, but it was for the prestige he thought he could get. Connections. He wanted several prominent men from Savannah to invest in his business ventures."
"Maybe that's it," Nick said in an excited tone.
"What?"
"Did any of those men actually invest in Jared's businesses?"
"I'm sure they did. I wasn't interested in what he did. But we had several dinner parties when we first married, and he had me invite all sorts of important people. I planned elaborate menus and hired outside help to accomplish everything. Maybe he married me to be his hostess."
"Maybe. You know, the killer could be someone you invited to dinner, someone who's been in this house several times."
She cringed, imagining the hundreds of people who'd strolled through their home and eaten their food. Had one of them been capable of murder? "Yes, that's possible."
"We need to make a list."
"I'll get a piece of paper." Emily left the breakfast nook of the kitchen and headed toward the antique roll-top desk in the living room.
The phone rang. Nick waited in the kitchen doorway, a concerned frown on his face. The caller ID listed the number as restricted, just as it had last time the killer called. A chill passed through her.
"It might be him," she told Nick.
"We'll pick up at the same time." Nick placed his hand on the phone by the kitchen doorway.
Emily nodded and pushed the talk button. "Hello?"
"Welcome home."
A shiver spiraled down her spine. It's him, she mouthed to Nick.
Chapter Seven
"Who is this?" Emily said into the phone, even though she already knew the person on the other end was the bastard who'd broken in, searched her house, then called her last night. The murderer.
"You know I can't tell you that," the creepy guy snapped, as if he had a right to be irate with her. "I see you brought in someone to help you. It won't matter."
Her head swirling with a million questions, she tried to think of what she should ask him while she had him on the phone. She also hoped either she or Nick might recognize his voice if she could get him to talk long enough. "Why did you cut my car's brake line?"
"You shouldn't have gone to Atlanta. The quicker you give me what I want, the quicker I'll leave you alone." She tried to determine if his voice sounded familiar. She wasn't sure. But he did have a slight southern accent.
"Did you kill Jared?" she asked.
"No. Why would I do something like that?" Sarcasm sharpened his words. Obviously a lie.
"You tell me." She tried to keep her voice from shaking.
"Here's all I'm telling you—get the Clach Torach and give it to me or I'll burn your little bridal shop to the ground."