uspected it wasn't an intruder, why did you shoot him?"
Heather jerked back as if slapped. She stared at Gabriel. Then she looked to me, waiting for the "good cop" to jump in. I met her gaze with a level stare. And I waited.
"I..." She hesitated and then inhaled. "I panicked. We told ourselves it was sabotage. Alan was so sure of it. But he"--another breath--"he didn't have to be here alone, hearing someone outside and hoping--praying--it was just someone trying to spook us. And then, when it happened, the way it happened..."
"Can you tell us about that?" I asked.
She nodded. "It was just before midnight. I was in bed--I'm not a night owl. I was asleep when I heard someone in the house. I got up and took out the gun. That was my plan. The next time this joker tried something, I'd scare the crap out of him. So I got the gun, but before I could even get out of bed, I heard footsteps running down the hall. Running toward our bedroom. The door flew open, and I saw a figure in the doorway and...and I fired."
"Without considering that it could be your husband?" Gabriel said.
She tensed at that. Not bristling now, just tensing.
"Yes," she said. "And I will never forgive myself for that."
"You don't like her story," I said as we got into the car.
Gabriel started the Jag and reversed from the drive. When he was on the road, he nodded at me. Telling me to go first.
"Alan was the one who convinced her it was a saboteur," I said. "Whatever she might say, she wasn't as sure. He tells her it's just someone trying to spook her, but meanwhile, I think she's kinda pissed. His explanation gave him an excuse to go about business as usual while she stayed home and prayed it wasn't a rapist looking for his opportunity to break in."
"I agree that she wasn't convinced it was sabotage."
"And she doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who'd be comfortable admitting she was afraid. That can be tough. If a woman says she's worried, the guy might brush it off, tell her she's overreacting. So let's say Heather believes she might actually be in danger. Then there's someone in the house, bursting into her room, in the dark, without any warning, not a text, not a call... If Alan thought he could do that--knowing his wife was armed--then I'm sorry, but he was an idiot. Not an idiot who deserved to die but..."
"Tragic mistake then?"
"It sounds like it, but..."
"You aren't convinced."
"No. I want to be, but I'm not."
Gabriel turned the corner. "Neither am I."
Twelve
Gabriel
Olivia stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, naked, close enough to the glass that she almost had her nose pressed against it. Gabriel walked in with two tumblers of Scotch in one hand. He set one tumbler on the end table beside her. As it clicked down, she said, without turning, "Yes, I still love the view."
"It's one of my favorites, too."
She looked then, as if she had to be sure he wasn't referring to the skyline. She smiled and picked up the tumbler. After a sip, she lowered herself to the floor, still at the window. They'd bought a new couch and moved it closer to take advantage of the view, and he settled on that, but she still needed to be closer, endlessly fascinated by the night skyline, fifty-five floors above the city.
As he watched her, he enjoyed a few minutes of undiluted contentment with a hint of satisfaction. This was what he'd wanted. This view. Olivia at his window. And yes, Olivia naked at his window, her skin glowing with sweat from sex. But even more than that, he wanted the expression on her face, reflected in the glass. Her happiness. Her contentment. Six months together, and if anything had changed, it was only for the better, as the early awkwardness and worry faded. She was still here, still happy, sitting at his window, enjoying his view.
One word in that statement, though, niggled at him. His. His window. His view. Half a year as a couple, and there remained a clear delineation between her home and his, and Gabriel wasn't quite certain what to do about that.
Shortly before Olivia and Ricky broke up, she'd said something that made him worry they might be moving in together. That was the sign he'd been watching for: that they would make their joint living arrangement official--"moving in" together in a more permanent way. Once they crossed that threshold, marriage would become a very real possibility, and Gabriel's own hopes would evaporate.
But it never came to that. As Olivia later said, what she had with Ricky was "in the moment." They were very happy together, but neither of them saw a future to it. Which had been exactly what Gabriel had wanted to hear.
Except now they'd been together for six months, and Gabriel wanted more. A seal of intended permanency. A guarantee was impossible, but he needed a sign that Olivia did see this as a long-term relationship, one that might culminate in marriage, though he did not require that, as long as the intent was there. The intent to form a partnership with a future.
A clear signal that she planned to stay with him.
Even thinking that made him twitch--the idea that he required such a thing. No one had ever accused him of a lack of ego, and that ego should hold him confident in the belief that Olivia should want to stay with him. That he was worth it. And if she did not agree? Then he was better off without her, and he would accept her decision with equanimity.