Lena Diaz - The Bodyguard

“Cornell isn’t here with your best interests at heart,” Luke continued. “He considers you a suspect in your husband’s murder.”

Caroline blinked at the detective. His face reddened, telling her Luke’s words were true.

“I’m not your enemy,” Cornell explained. “I simply want to know what happened. But first, I’d like to offer you my condolences on the death of your husband.”

She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Even though she knew Richard was dead, hearing it out loud didn’t make it seem real. She kept expecting him to pounce at her from behind the curtains, or stride out of the bathroom and laugh at her for thinking she could ever escape him.

“Thank you, Detective.”

“Have you had a chance to speak to your doctor yet?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “He was here a few moments ago.”

“Then you know he suspects your husband abused you, that he’s the reason for your fractures, bruises, your ruptured spleen...your miscarriage?”

She winced and automatically moved her hand to her belly. “Yes. He told me.”

“Is it true? Did your husband beat you?”

She blanched, her face growing hot. She’d never wanted anyone else to know about her shame. Until a few days ago, no one did. No one but Leslie.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“It’s the elephant in the room,” Cornell continued. “It can’t be avoided. You hired a bodyguard, Mr. Dawson here. Why did you hire him?”

She glanced at Luke. “I knew my husband would be angry that I’d left him. And I didn’t want to have to deal with an argument. I wanted someone who could confront him, if necessary, and save me from the ugliness.”

“Are you denying your husband hurt you?” the detective asked.

She twisted her fingers in the sheets. “I don’t—”

“Don’t say another word,” Luke said. “You need a criminal defense attorney before you speak to the police.”

Leslie patted Caroline’s hand. “The sooner she answers the questions, the sooner this will all be over and she can put it behind her. Perhaps it would be best if you waited outside, Mr. Dawson.”

“Not a chance.”

“No,” Caroline said at the same time. She pulled her hand back from Leslie’s. “I’m sorry, but I feel...better with Mr. Dawson here. Detective Cornell, all I can tell you is that I didn’t kill my husband. I don’t own a gun. I don’t even think Richard owned one. There was no need, not with a security firm watching over the house. And regardless of what Richard did or didn’t do, I never wanted him dead.”

“I agree it appears you couldn’t have killed him yourself, based on the timeline of events and the witnesses to your whereabouts. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t hire someone else to kill him.”

Her mouth fell open. “Why would I do that?”

“Your husband was quite wealthy. Maybe you figured you wouldn’t get much if you divorced him.” He cocked his head and studied her. “Was there a prenuptial agreement limiting how much you would get in a divorce?”

“Yes. There was. But I didn’t care. I was leaving my husband, regardless of the money.”

Cornell didn’t look impressed by her statement. He scribbled something in his notepad. “I think when you decided to leave your husband, you didn’t want to lose the money. You called a friend, maybe a lover, offered him a portion of the estate if he’d help you stage your husband’s murder to make it look like you had nothing to do with it. Who helped you?”

She laughed bitterly. “A friend? A lover? My husband made sure I had no one, Detective. I didn’t make a move that he didn’t know about. I couldn’t even leave the house without him.”

“Obviously that’s not true. You left without him Thursday morning.”

She rolled her head on the pillow. “The one thing my husband allowed me to do on my own, the only thing he let me do, was run two weekly errands—taking our clothes to the dry cleaner’s and bringing his papers to his lawyer’s office, to Leslie’s office. That’s what I was doing. That’s how I left without him knowing I was taking off.”

“‘Let’ you?” the detective asked. “Are you saying you were a prisoner in your own home? Did you resent your husband for controlling you that way?”

“That’s enough.” Luke said. “Mrs. Ashton, again, I strongly urge you not to say another word without adequate legal representation.”

The door flew open. A tall man in a business suit stepped into the room. His coal-black hair had tiny streaks of silver, but that was the only thing that hinted at his age. His blue eyes were still vivid, piercing, as they swept the room and landed on her.

“And just who the devil are you?” Leslie demanded.

Luke looked relieved to see the other man.

The man ignored Leslie, nodded at Luke. He stepped to the side of Caroline’s bed and smiled down at her. “I’m Alex Buchanan, a defense attorney with one of the best records in the state of Georgia. Mr. Dawson called me about your situation. And from where I stand, you look like you could use my help.” He pulled a dollar out of his suit-jacket pocket and handed it to her.

“What’s this for?” she asked, automatically taking it.

“I figure you probably don’t have any cash with you here in the hospital. If you’d like me to represent you, you can give me that dollar as my retainer.”

Leslie scoffed.

Cornell’s mouth curved in grudging admiration.

Caroline looked at Luke. “You think I need help?”

“I know you do. Alex really is the best. I recommend that you hire him.”

She held the dollar out to the handsome man smiling down at her. “You’re hired, Mr. Buchanan.”

He took the dollar and slid it back into his pocket. “Excellent. Detective Cornell, miss,” he said, looking at Leslie. “I need a moment alone with my client.”

“I’m not leaving unless he does,” Leslie said, pointing at Luke.

Alex smiled without humor. “Yes, you are. You’re both leaving. But Mr. Dawson stays. Three days ago, someone killed my client’s husband. And if she’d arrived at the house a few moments earlier, she could have been killed, as well. Mr. Dawson is her bodyguard. He’s not going anywhere.”

* * *

APPARENTLY, CAROLINE LOVED GARDENS. Luke had done his best to find one for her so she, Alex and he could talk without anyone overhearing them. The closest thing to a garden the hospital had was a spot in a small, empty waiting room on the first floor that looked out a group of windows to some flowering shrubs.

Not that it really mattered. Caroline wasn’t paying attention to the view. She sat in her wheelchair staring at Alex with the same confusion Luke felt.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Luke shook his head. “Neither do I. Maybe you should explain one more time, Alex. How, exactly, am I supposed to protect Caroline when I won’t even be in the house with her?”

“Mrs. Ashton already has a contract with a security company to guard the mansion. Stellar Security has an excellent record. There’s no reason to believe they can’t take care of her without your help.”

“If you truly believe that, then why am I even here?” Luke asked.

“To protect Mrs. Ashton.”

Caroline’s brow furrowed and she shared another look of confusion with Luke.

“See, that’s the part where you lost me earlier,” Luke said.

Alex smiled. “Forgive me. I’m not explaining this very well. Based on my current understanding of the case, we only know one thing—that someone murdered Mr. Ashton. We don’t know if the killer wanted to kill him, or if Mrs. Ashton was his true target, or if it was simply a burglary gone wrong with no real connection to either of the Ashtons.”