White Lies (A Twisted Fate Series) (Volume 1) Page 3

  Remember, Willow, tell them I am an independent consultant. Someone may be watching you. It might be a trap.

  A sense of dread filled me thinking of Alex’s words.

  What if the mob came for me? What if they connected Alex to me?

  Earlier, I’d asked Mildred to pull the curtains as an unnerving feeling came over me that someone was out there.

  I closed my eyes in anguish, fighting the nausea.

  The officers left shortly thereafter. They were unable to get much from me as sobs racked my body. Their parting words were they’d be in touch.

  My mind swirled with unanswered questions. Different scenarios. What ifs. But nothing came into clear focus except the fact that Alex was dead.

  “Sweetheart, drink this. It’s hot tea. It will help.” Mildred’s voice brought my attention from the flames.

  Absentmindedly, I took the cup and continued staring at the fire while letting the warmth of the mug seep into my cold hands. Only Chris and Mildred were here. Nonno was on his way but had been in the city at the time he got the call. After him, I’d called Carson. I was still a complete wreck and wanted him here, but insisted he stay to finish his business. I knew Carson would be here as soon as he could.

  This had to be a dream.

  Alex was dead.

  My husband was dead.

  Dead.

  Death had such a finality to it. There was nothing that could be done to fix it. Death had the final word. I hated it.

  There were no redos once someone was gone.

  Whispers at the door between Chris and Mildred caught my attention.

  There was a pause before Mildred continued, “I’m going to stay in the main house tonight in case Willow needs anything.”

  “I’ll stay in the guest house. Call me and I’ll be right up. I’ll wait up here until Antonio arrives.”

  “Thank you, Chris.”

  I said nothing. The endless stream of tears flowed down my face without a sound. Alex and I had lost our second chance. Rage boiled within from all the loss. Everyone I love died. The only family left in my life was Nonno and Carson.

  Only one way best described how I felt—alone.

  Abandoned.

  Empty.

  All I wanted was the family I’d always imagined as a child. A family full of love, laughter, and happiness. My father, mother, and husband. They were all gone.

  It was hard for me to care about much at the moment. Right now, being numb was all I had. I wasn’t ready to give it up. When I did, the reality of what happened would be infinitely worse.

  Per the police, Alex had been shot and burned. A finger was missing from his remains—potentially a trophy. The thought made me nauseous. It had to be connected to whatever assignment he had been involved with. The thought of him being burned ate away at me, churning the acid within my stomach.

  Had he suffered? Was it quick? Did he know how much I loved him?

  The thoughts chewed away at my soul.

  More time elapsed.

  I was neither here nor there.

  I was stuck.

  “Willow.”

  I turned, with my lip quivering, to the aging man with white hair in the doorway. He was my rock in so many ways. At the sight of me, he came to me and engulfed me in a hug.

  “Nonno, he’s gone.”

  “I know, baby girl. I’m here.”

  Unable to hold it in, a cry escaped, which opened the flood gates. Nonno held me until exhaustion crept into my bones. No words were needed. He knew nothing could be said to lessen the pain. “Let’s get you in bed. You need your rest, Willow.”

  “I don’t want to go to my bed. I want to sleep in here tonight.” There were too many memories in my bedroom—mainly the bad ones of all our fights. We hadn’t slept in the same bedroom since a week before Dad died. Before moving into the Hampton estate, I had a two bedroom apartment where we lived together.

  Nonno’s strong hands stroked my back in a comforting manner. “Let’s get you settled here on the couch. I’ll be over there in the chair if you need anything.”

  The comfort of him brought immeasurable peace to my broken heart, but I still worried about him being in his seventies.

  I grabbed his hand. “Nonno, please sleep in a bed. I’ll be okay.”

  “Shh, don’t worry about me. If I need to go to bed, I will. Promise.”

  Mildred brought in blankets and a pillow. Begrudgingly, I lay on the brown leather couch while watching the flames dance. Murmurs were heard in the hallway. I didn’t have the energy to care what they said.

  The fire crackled.

  If only I could go back in time.

  If only I had Alex back.

  If only…

  Stretching, I reached for Alex, remembering our magical night in the hotel room.

  He wasn’t there.

  Was I on the couch? I must have fallen asleep before bed when Alex hadn’t returned from work. He never called when on duty. It was safer if I stayed in the dark regarding his assignments.

  Cracking my eyes open, I saw Nonno in the corner chair with his eyes closed and head cocked back. A light snore resonated from him while his chest rose evenly. Worry lines were present on his face.

  Why was Nonno here?

  Memories rushed to the forefront in a blur.

  Alex.

  He was gone.

  Dead.

  Burned.

  Reality washed over me as I sat up.

  Without permission, my tears fell of their own accord. Nonno stirred and watched me for a minute as the anguish crept back into my bones. All I wanted was to go back to sleep and be in the moment before my world fell apart—the moment where I thought Alex was still alive and we had made love throughout the night.

  “Can I get you anything, Willow?”

  A sob escaped. “I want Alex back.”

  “I know, baby girl. I know.”

  Mildred appeared in a red sweat outfit, looking exhausted. I’d slept fitfully most of the night except for the last few hours when a deep sleep taken over me. Nonno had held me each time I woke up crying, which meant he needed rest.

  A cup of coffee appeared before me, and I sat up. “Here you go, Willow. I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

  “No, thank you, Mildred.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Glancing up, Nonno exchanged a look with Mildred before she left the room.

  Nonno rose from the red and gold upholstered chair. Even in his early seventies, he got around well. He swam every day in his indoor pool to stay in shape. Per his doctors, he was healthy. As my mind drifted, I thought about all Nonno had endured in his life. In his fifties, he lost my nonna to cancer, then my mom, who was like a daughter, and finally his son. It was unnatural to outlive your kids, Nonno had said at my dad’s funeral.

  How did he cope?

  Sitting next to me, Nonno brought warmth and comfort with him. I leaned against him while taking a sip of caffeine. “What do I do next, Nonno?”

  Without saying it, he knew I was asking how he dealt with all the loss. Losing my mother, father, and now husband was more than I could bear. He squeezed me gently. “You live it day by day. You’ll see you’re stronger than you think you are.”

  Day by day.

  “I’d gone into the city to file for separation. Alex came to me. He wanted to make things right between us.” I looked to Nonno. “I don’t understand why life is so cruel. Why even let me believe we had a second chance? Why?”

  He patted my leg. “I don’t know. I often thought the same thing. We thought your nonna was cancer free, but the doctors were wrong. Before we realized the seriousness of her illness, it was too late. She passed within a week. Life is hard, and it’s accountable to no one.”

  How true those words were.

  I thought about the last night with Alex. Maybe if I focused on the positive, the negative would fade away. A thought belatedly occurred—Alex hadn’t used protection. The doctors had taken me o
ff birth control because of the side effects I was having. Alex knew and hadn’t cared. Probably because we weren’t sleeping together until the night before last. What if? No, I refused to think about it right then. It was too much to process.

  My mood shifted. A month ago, he informed me his decision on kids had changed since being in the Middle East. He no longer wanted them. I was hurt he’d kept a game changer like that a secret until after we married. I touched my stomach, hoping we’d made a child our last night together—a piece of him to have. Wait… I was crazy. It had to be all the stress. How in the world would I ever raise a child on my own?

  Push the thought aside, Willow.

  Nonno’s voice brought me out of my wishful thinking. “What about the funeral arrangements?”

  I shook my head. “Alex wanted to be cremated. No funeral. No memorial. With him being an undercover cop, he said it could bring unwanted attention to me. I think he’d been on some sort of assignment this last month. His hours at home had been erratic. We never talked about it. Regardless, nothing can be done until the investigation is over.”

  If only I had been able to talk him out of being an undercover cop.

  “I’ll be with you through this every step of the way, Willow.”

  A sniffle escaped me. “Thanks, Nonno. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, baby girl.”

  Three days ago, I’d come to my studio to escape, to paint, and I hadn’t left. I needed the solace. Everyone watched me closely—asking me every five minutes if I needed anything. It became suffocating after a day. It was hard to believe it had been four days since Alex had died.

  Out of the blue, different scenes fought their way to the surface, begging to be painted. At least it allowed the loss and pain to disappear for a bit—or maybe it was the missed opportunities we had as husband and wife that hurt more acutely. Life was precious.

  We only had one shot to make the most of it.

  Our shot was gone.

  At meal times, Nonno came into the studio to eat with me. He’d stay until he was satisfied with the amount of food I consumed. As soon as the door closed, I returned to painting. At night, I slept on the couch for a few hours, took a shower in the studio bathroom, and then resumed painting.

  I finished one painting after another. I was hardly able to keep up with the images as my brush furiously stroked the canvas.

  The studio was a mess, and paint splotches covered my clothes.

  Making the last brush stroke, I stood back and grabbed a Twizzler from the table. Canvases, dry and wet, littered every surface of the studio. I’d been busy over the last few days. I walked around eyeing each one. The beginning paintings were full of bright colors and love, showcasing the brightness of the light. Later paintings grew darker and more detached with always a symbolic light somewhere in the picture. Toward the end, the light faded and then became brighter. All the paintings led to the one I’d been working on the day I found out Alex had died.

  The series was our story. Alex’s and my journey. Our journey.

  I kept staring at the figures in each painting. The weariness grew on the figures as the burdens of life weighed them down. At times, the vines nearly encapsulated one or the other.

  The paintings were raw emotions exposed to the nerve—they were real life.

  A sense of completion filled me. The process helped catalogue and decipher what happened.

  Over the last few days, I questioned why I’d stayed with him when there seemed to be more bad times than good. At least I knew I gave it everything and had no regrets. Or at least regrets I had control over. It was hard giving up on the person you believed was your soulmate. Through sickness and in health, through the good times and the bad… those were the vows I took. They meant something to me.

  Taking a deep breath, I flipped off the lights and left the studio. The wind picked up and whipped my messy bun around. I was probably a disaster with my paint-splattered face and clothes. The loss was still brutal, but I would survive.

  The waves crashed against the shore as I made it to the back of the property.

  Today, the sea was angry, which mirrored what brewed inside me despite all my revelations. Under the sadness, an irritation lurked as to all the unanswered questions. Why had Alex insisted he do such a dangerous job? Why had he come full circle all of a sudden? Why? Why? Why? There was so much unfinished between us.

  “Willow.”

  I turned to the familiar voice of Carson, and relief swept through me having him here. I flung my arms around him, and he engulfed me in a hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry.” My nose was buried in his chest. “I would have been here sooner, but delay after delay kept me away. I’m so sorry.”

  “All that matters is you’re here now.”

  With a gentle hand, he rubbed my back. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else, Willow. You know that. I tried calling to check on you. I’ve been in touch with Nonno when you didn’t answer.”

  Nonno was like a grandfather to Carson, too.

  Pulling back, I sniffled. “I’ve been in such a fog. I just… I don’t know. I turned off my phone and went into the studio to paint. It’s such a mess, Carson.” I shrugged, not sure what else to say.

  Without warning, Carson pulled me back into his embrace. “Shh… it’s okay.”

  The waves crashed against the shore while thunder rolled in the distance. I wasn’t sure how much time passed before rain droplets hit my back. I still clung to Carson as the rain pelted a little more, causing a shiver to emanate through me. “Let’s get you inside. The last thing you need is to get sick.”

  Staring into his eyes, I saw his concerned powder-blue ones staring back at me as his shoulder-length blond hair whipped in the wind. He was here for me. Throughout my entire life, Carson was always there when I needed him. I had more people in my life than I allowed myself to remember these last few days. The emptiness was all-consuming. “Sounds good.”

  Protectively, Carson walked me to the main house. Nonno and Mildred sat at the walnut breakfast table, sipping coffee. “There’s my girl.”

  I hugged him tightly. “Thank you for staying. I know I’ve been distant.” At meal times, I hardly spoke, focusing on the painting I was working on at the time. Dad would be gone for days sometimes. Mom would force him to eat like Nonno had me.

  “Of course. Did you work through what you needed to?” Nonno knew I used painting to cope and express myself like Dad. The hurt was long from gone, but I felt as though I was beginning to function once again.

  Mildred handed me a sweatshirt, which I slipped over my head.

  “I think so. Did the officers call?”

  Carson took a sip of coffee from the mug Mildred gave him, weary from all the travel. Nonno nodded. “They did about ten minutes ago. I was about to bring dinner and tell you. The investigation is still ongoing. No leads. They’re releasing Alex’s body to the crematory tomorrow. They have all the evidence they need to collect.”

  “Which officer called?”

  “Officer Ashton. He was one of the detectives who notified you.”

  Why hadn’t Alex’s supervisor called? Honestly, I knew nothing about how all this worked. Was it too dangerous to come to my house in case someone was watching? I would have thought at least his superior would have contacted me somehow. I’d met his superior once in the precinct when I needed the accident report from when someone rear-ended me.

  A headache bloomed in the back of my head as I sat in the chair and took the offered coffee from Mildred. “I’ll go to the station tomorrow and see what’s going on.”

  Carson ran a hand through his hair and looked at me with caring eyes. “I’ll go with you if you need me to.”

  I never knew what I did to deserve Carson as a best friend. Alex and he had gotten along great prior to him being deployed. After we were married, Carson was one of the major things we fought about. Alex wanted him out of my life, saying Carson wanted me. The notion was insane. I refused to give an inch on
Alex’s request regarding Carson. There was nothing sexual between us. Never had been. Never would be.

  A sigh left my lips, and I took a sip of my coffee while a bowl of stew was set before me. The steam rose as the meaty aroma filled the room. Nonno raised his eyebrows at me as he had the last couple of nights when it was dinnertime. Begrudgingly, I ate. Carson joined us, sitting across from me. I listened, not adding much to the conversation, as Nonno asked Carson about his latest trip to Italy. A vineyard came up. Some wine. Honestly, I zoned out, thinking about what I was going to say to Commander Taylor tomorrow.

  “Do you remember the restaurant we found in Little Italy the summer we went with Dad to a business meeting, Willow?”

  The question brought me back into the conversation. Carson smiled at me. The delicious ravioli we found. “They had the ham stuffed cheese ravioli we devoured. Your dad had some delivered for us every week from then on out because we wouldn’t stop hassling him to take us back.”

  I remembered Carson and me eating until we lay on the floor, stuffed and moaning in pain from too much ravioli. Carson’s dad, Bennett, had thought we were insane, filling ourselves like we did.

  I giggled.

  Carson’s grin grew wider. “You’re remembering how we ate until we nearly popped.”

  “I do. We were ridiculous about that ravioli.”

  Winking, Carson took another bite. I was glad he was here.

  Sitting in the driver seat, I looked at the 24th Precinct, where Alex’s boss, Commander Taylor, presided. I thought about Alex breaking the news to me about his new job as an undercover cop. A week after we got married, Alex had taken it without consulting me. I was furious but had let it slide because of his PTSD.

  I sighed as my phone rang and sent it to voicemail. It was Carson. This morning, I’d left before he woke, needing some time to get my thoughts together. I’d asked him to stay the night in his old bedroom my parents had kept for him growing up. Having him and Nonno there helped. Tension in my neck grew as anticipation bloomed. I wasn’t ready to speak to anyone until I got this over with.

  I quickly typed out a text so he wouldn’t worry.