Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“What’s that got to do with Aster offing herself?” he asks.
“Nothing. Except, people who are suicidal are usually convinced other people are better off without them. Does it sound like she cared about anyone else being better off? I remember the day before she died on that trip. We stopped off for a plate lunch in town and she talked nonstop about starting her new designer soap business. She wanted me to pull some strings to have a new LLC and production line set up the following week. I just wanted to enjoy my damn kalua pork with Destiny laughing on my lap, and instead I got a goddamned business meeting.”
Troy laughs. “I thought you didn’t remember anything?”
“I don’t. Barely. But I remember how every other day of married life went down with the same basic script. Not my point, though. Does that sound like a woman done with life? And convinced everyone around her would be better off with her gone?”
He finishes his shot slowly, nursing it like a cup of coffee.
“Hell, I don’t know. Maybe she thought it was the only way out...”
“Out of what? Being married to me? Believe me, if she’d asked for a divorce, I wouldn’t have contested it. Not that I was ready to give up—I always swore I’d go down fighting for us,” I tell him.
“So, if you don’t believe it was an accident and you don’t think she killed herself...what are you suggesting?”
“I don’t fucking know, Troy.”
That’s just it.
The only other option is foul play, and I can’t see anyone killing her.
“Not a lot of other options,” Troy says matter-of-factly.
“I know. And you’re right that I owe Eliza the truth. About as much as I owe it to myself to find some closure.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “Only, how do I even give her the truth without knowing it?”
“You’ll never know what happened that day. When someone dies abruptly like she did, that’s how it goes. The only person who knows is gone. And man, pardon me if this sounds cold, but does it matter?”
My eyes snap to his. “What do you mean?”
“If you find out what happened, will it bring her back?”
“No.” I sigh. “Hell no.”
“Right. So, either way, all you can do is move on. Count your blessings. You’ve found a great girl who adores you and loves your kid. You want my advice? Don’t blow it because you’re all twisted up in something that happened almost ten fucking years ago.”
“I hired a private investigator. As soon as I have the answers—and closure—I’ll tell her everything. I just don’t feel like I can until I know for myself.”
For a second, he stares at me blankly.
“A PI? Sounds like a big waste of money,” he snaps, staring past me and shaking his head violently.
Not what I was expecting.
“What? Why?”
“Because. How many times does it need to be investigated, dude? The police did their legwork when the evidence was fresh. Now, it’s ancient history. What do you think you’re gonna find?”
“I get it. Turning up anything new seems unlikely. If the PI comes back with the same theory the cops did, I’ll accept it. If they don’t...then I guess I’ll have to decide who to believe. I always felt like there was too much chaos after she died, and maybe the case was closed too fast.”
“Cole, you were grieving. If they told you anything besides, ‘Sorry, wrong Aster Lancaster. Your wife is safe at the Kona Community Hospital,’ you wouldn’t have believed it. You weren’t ready to hear it,” he says sharply.
Is Troy right?
I wanted out if we couldn’t fix what we had, but I never wanted Aster dead.
I never wanted to watch Destiny pick at meals for a year because she was waiting for mommy to come for dinner.
I never wanted to wake up at three a.m. in a cold sweat. Day after day after goddamned day because Destiny had another night terror and was screaming. Another dream where a shadow man was taking mommy away.
“Maybe so,” I tell him. “Still, I want a second opinion to put this whole thing behind me, and as you pointed out, I haven’t managed to do that yet.”
“Jesus, yeah. Can I have another hit?”
I find the bottle and fill his glass again.
He knocks back his drink, his throat working, and slams it on the coffee table in front of us.
“If you think it will help, whatever. Go for it. But as a friend—I think it’s only going to help if you’re willing to accept it this time with no more questions. And if you’re willing to do that, you could just read the police report again and save yourself the time.”
“I want a new report. Also, I’m drunk and tired. I need sleep, Troy. Should I call you a ride or are you crashing here?”