Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [95]
As she pulled up her book’s file, she found herself realizing that Braden’s mere hug had assuaged her lingering concerns over her actions, somehow made it all better. But where would she be when his hugs were nowhere to be found?
The truth was—if she and Braden had had a future, she wasn’t so sure she’d have any concerns over last night at all. He’d made their threesome seem more than okay—he’d made it seem truly right. So if anything was really bothering her, it was likely the fact that she’d had the most intimate, outrageous sex of her life with two guys she would soon never see again.
Be a big girl, she reminded herself. People have affairs all the time and don’t self-destruct over it. People probably had ménages à trois all the time as parts of their affairs without falling apart. She didn’t personally know any of the latter, but she was sure they existed. She’d allowed herself into this world of sexual decadence—now she had to come out the other side unscathed.
But she feared last night had bonded her with Braden in an almost frightening way. She’d had to trust him so much to let herself go to such extremes. She’d had to open herself so deeply, uncovering parts of herself she’d never even seen, let alone shared with anyone else. And when she took the time to remember and realize all she’d shared with him, she couldn’t deny the ugly truth: leaving him behind was going to hurt even more than she’d ever imagined.
“I have a confession,” Riley confided to Sloane as they sat in the Dorchesters’ back porch swing watching the stars overhead.
“You’re the killer?”
She gasped, and he squeezed her hand.
“I’m kidding, honey. I’m kidding.”Then he added a knee pat for good measure. “Relax and tell me what’s on your mind.”
She let out a sigh, then admitted what she’d done. “I went to Aunt Mimsey this afternoon, and I told her to run. I told her she was a suspect and that, although the evidence is thin, the cops know.” When the authorities had come to investigate Hawthorne’s murder, everyone in the Dorchesters’ household, plus Riley, had been thoroughly interviewed. It had come up that both Mr. Dorchester and Edna the housekeeper had heard Hawthorne yelling at Aunt Mimsey and later found out how angry she was about it. Riley had been forced to admit the same. And although no one claimed to have liked Hawthorne, Aunt Mimsey was the only person in the vicinity who’d been found to have a grudge against him.
Sloane didn’t appear in the least surprised. “How did she respond?”
“Very calmly. She refused to be frightened, simply stating that she hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“Do you believe her?”
Riley hesitated. She could still scarcely comprehend that anyone could think Aunt Mimsey a killer.
Sloane lifted her chin with one bent finger. “You can tell me, Riley. It’ll stay between us—I promise.”
Riley’s heart warmed. She’d been so afraid Sloane would want to hold Aunt Mimsey accountable. To him, she probably seemed like nothing more than a dotty old woman—he had no way of knowing how loving and kind she could be.
“I really can’t fathom Aunt Mimsey hurting anyone,” Riley said, “even if certain evidence does point in her direction. She can barely stand to kill an insect. In fact, she got into a horrible argument with Hawthorne last summer when he was using those spiked mole traps to stop an infestation, insisting that they were cruel and—” Riley stopped, cringed. “I just incriminated her more, didn’t I?”
He shrugged. “I’ll keep the mole trap incident to myself.”
“Thank you,” she said, reaching up to give him a short kiss—which quickly turned passionate and left Riley breathless when it was through.
“But between you and me,” Sloane said, “I’m afraid the cops may start taking a closer look at Mimsey soon, out of desperation, if no other clues turn up.”
“Then we have to find more clues,” she replied vehemently.
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“I have an idea.” She lifted one finger in the