White Lies (A Twisted Fate Series) (Volume 1) (5 page)

T
hree 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.

S
itting 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.

Me: I’m okay. At the precinct. I’ll be home shortly.

Carson: Thanks for texting me. Wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m going to head to my place to get some things if you still want me to stay at your house.

Me: Thanks, Carson. I’d like for you to stay a little longer if you can. It means a lot that you’re here.

Carson: Wouldn’t be anywhere else. I’ll be back to your place as soon as possible.

I knew he meant it. There was no telling what was put on hold business wise for Carson to leave early.

I got out of my car and headed up the concrete steps to the state-of-the-art police station. Hopefully, Commander Taylor remembered our brief encounter and would give me something a little more than the “investigation was still open” like the other officers had done over the phone.

The reflective glass doors greeted me. I was dressed in jeans and a yellow summer blazer with my hair pulled back in a ponytail. Any happiness was devoid from my body language. Sadness rolled off me in droves. But I knew I had to keep pushing forward to make it through. When you stood still, you risked the chance of being washed away.

Plastering on a pleasant expression, I opened the door and mentally prepped myself. It was morning, and the place was deserted as I approached the front desk. Only the smell of stale coffee lingered in the air.

A female officer sat behind the desk in her blue uniform. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I’d like to speak with Commander Taylor regarding the murder of Alex Thompson. My name is Willow Russo.” I never changed my name after we got married. Alex actually encouraged me not to. Only a few of my closest friends knew I was married, because Alex hadn’t wanted me to broadcast it. It bothered me, but with the PTSD, I hadn’t questioned it much. There were quirks that were better left alone.

She nodded after taking a few notes. “He’s in a meeting. Do you want to wait?”

“Yes, please.”

Keys clicked on her computer. “Perfect. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Making my way first to the coffee machine, I poured a cup and mixed in some creamer as I tried not to watch two officers chat with each other on the other side of the room. The coffee smelled old, but something was better than nothing at this point. The chattering stopped momentarily as they glanced my way, which caught my attention.

I met their gazes, and the officers looked away and continued their conversation. I felt paranoid and did another quick take of the place, finding it void of anyone else.

Idly, I wondered if they knew Alex and recognized me. Probably not since he was undercover and I’d only been here once. He kept no photos of us in his wallet. In fact there weren’t any photos of us except on our wedding day in Vegas. If only I had done things differently, in retrospect, after all that had transpired through the last year.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that we got married. On a whim, shortly after he left the military, Alex surprised me with a trip to Vegas. It was an incredibly romantic weekend. Though I’d sensed a change, I loved him and agreed to marry him.

Something in the pit of my stomach had warned me, but I’d ignored it, thinking love conquered all.

Always go with my gut. I should have known.

My mind drifted to better times.