Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [72]
She regretted all those years she had put on a show for her family and friends. She had played the role of supportive wife and good mother. All those years she had obsessed in making Bruce happy. For over a year she had known about the affair. It was hard to miss the credit card bills for hotels she had never stepped foot into and flowers she had never received. It had only made her more obsessed. If her husband was having an affair, it had to be her fault—something she lacked, something she wasn’t able to give him.
Now, it embarrassed her to remember the expensive Victoria’s Secret teddies she had bought to lure him back to her. Their lovemaking, which had never been fantastic, had become quick, sultry one-act plays. He had slammed into her as if punishing her for his own sins, then rolled over and slept. Too many nights she had snuck out of bed after waiting for his snores. She’d peeled off the sometimes torn and soiled teddies, and then cried in the shower. Even the pulsating, scalding water couldn’t make her whole again. And that the love had disappeared from their marriage was surely her fault, as well.
Christine curled up on the sofa and pulled an afghan over her shivering body. She was no longer that weak, obsessive wife. She was a successful journalist. She closed her eyes. That’s what she would concentrate on—success. Finally, after so many failures.
CHAPTER 39
Wednesday, October 29
Maggie had offered to go to Michelle Tanner’s with Nick, but he insisted on going alone. Instead, he dropped her off at the hotel. Despite their intimacy—or perhaps because of it—she found herself relieved to be away from him. It had been a mistake getting so close. She was angry and disappointed in herself, and this morning during the drive into town, she punished Nick with her silence.
She had to maintain her focus, and in order to do that, she needed to maintain her distance. As an agent, it was stupid to get personally involved, not just with one individual, but with a community. An agent could quickly lose his or her edge and objectivity. She had seen it happen to other agents. And, as a woman, it was dangerous to get involved with Nick Morrelli, a man who rigged his house with romantic booby traps for his one-night stands. Besides, she was married—degrees of happiness didn’t count. She told herself all this to justify her sudden aloofness and to absolve herself of her guilt.
Her damp clothes still reeked of muddy river and dried blood. The ripped sleeves of her jacket and blouse exposed her wounded shoulder. As she entered the hotel, the pimple-faced desk clerk looked up, and his expression immediately changed from a “good morning” nod to an “oh, my God” stare.
“Wow, Agent O’Dell, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Do I have any messages?”
He turned with the gawkiness of a teenager—all arms and legs—almost spilling his cappuccino. The sweet aroma drifted in the steam, and despite being a fast-food imitation of the real thing, it smelled wonderful.
The snow—almost six inches and still falling—clung to her pant legs and dripped inside her shoes. She was cold and tired and sore.
He handed her a half-dozen pink message slips and a small sealed envelope with SPECIAL AGENT O’DELL carefully printed in blue ink.
“What’s this?” She held up the envelope.
“I dunno. It came in the mail slot sometime during the night. I found it on the floor with the morning mail.”
She pretended it didn’t matter. “Is there someplace here in town I can buy a coat and boots?”
“Not really. There’s a John Deere implement store about a mile north of town, but they just have men’s stuff.”
“Would you mind doing me a favor?” She peeled a damp five-dollar bill from the folded emergency bills she kept stuffed in the slot behind her badge. The kid seemed more interested in the badge than the five. “Would you call the store and ask them to deliver a jacket? I don’t care what it looks like, as long as it’s warm and a size small.”
“What about boots?