Page 64 of The Night Of
She nodded. Shadows built in her eyes. “Are you still investigating my husband’s death?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She exhaled, and her delicate fingers rose, the tips rubbing beneath her eyes. “Would you do something for me if I asked, Jonathan?”
Jonathan sat forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he reached for her. “Of course. I’ll do anything you need.”
“We only have each other now, don’t we?” She laced their fingers together. Their arms made a bridge, joining their bodies over the gap between the two couches.
I wanted to rip them apart, tear her away from Jonathan, pull him into my arms, hold his hand in my own. Ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous. I shifted my weight. Cleared my throat again.
“If I ask you to end this investigation,” Felicity breathed, “will you?”
Jonathan frowned.
“Why?” I blurted. “Don’t you want to know what happened to your husband?”
“I know what happened to my husband,” she said. There was steel in her voice, more than I’d heard before. “He put a gun to his head, and he pulled the trigger. He killed himself.”
I shook my head.
She spoke before I could. “You didn’t know him like I did, Sean. You haven’t been around for the past year to see how far he’d fallen. How deep the depression had grown. I didn’t even see how bad it was, and I was his wife. But looking back? Seeing everything, with the benefit of hindsight?” She tried to stop the trembling of her chin. “I know what happened to my husband. I know what he did.”
Jonathan’s eyes flicked to mine. I felt the weight of his gaze, even as I stared at Felicity. “His fingerprints aren’t on the trigger.”
She shook her head. “Please,” she said. “Please, don’t turn this into a years-long investigation. Please let Steven go with his dignity intact. If you loved my husband, if you respected him, please. Let him go.”
“We can’t ignore evidence—”
“There are plenty of times when fingerprints aren’t left behind, aren’t there? It’s never as cut-and-dried as all that. Steven was at the depths of his despair. Did his hands tremble? Did he have something on his fingers? Were they wet? His autopsy said he’d been crying—” She stopped suddenly, pressing her fingers to her lips as she shuddered. Jonathan reached for her, grabbing her knee as he sent me a brokenhearted stare.
Felicity took a slow, shaking breath. “There are a dozen reasons why his fingerprints wouldn’t be on the trigger,” she choked out. “I don’t want his memory torn apart in the press over something that may not be anything at all. Please, let him go with the dignity he deserves. I don’t want every last moment of the worst days of his life raked apart by the media.”
Jonathan’s gaze fell. He rubbed his shoe against the carpet, digging the toe into the golden sunburst rug. “Felicity…”
“I know my husband, Jonathan. I know what he went through. I watched him wrestle with his demons. I know the pain he was facing. And Iknowwhat he did.”
“I knew Steven, too. And…” He exhaled.
“I know it’s hard for you to accept.” She cradled his face in her hands. “Remember what we talked about earlier? About how happy he was, before all of this?”
Jonathan’s eyes closed. He nodded.
My heart lurched. My vision narrowed until all I could see were her hands on Jonathan’s face, her fingers on his cheeks, her skin brushing over his, over the start of his stubble and the hollows of his face, the strong lines of his chiseled jaw.
“What now?” My voice was too loud, bouncing off the walls of the silent Oval Office like I’d shouted. I tried again as they separated, Jonathan staring at the carpet between his knees as Felicity turned to me. “What are your plans now, ma’am? After the funeral?”
“Well, I’ll be moving out of the Residence. I started packing this morning. This place belongs to you now, Jonathan.” She tried to smile. “As for me, I’m going to London to be close to my sister.”
“You won’t go back to Helsinki?”
She shook her head. “I don’t need to revisit that pain.” Helsinki, where she’d been raised and where her parents had been killed in an auto accident. Icy roads, the car skidding off the highway into a ravine. It was a miracle Felicity and Annette had survived.
“We’re family, Felicity.” Jonathan said. He tried to smile, but there was too much agony inside him, too much anguish bleeding out of his soul. “I’ll always be here for you.”
“I know you will.” She rose, and Jonathan followed. He held her. She hugged him back, and when they separated, she kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger on his skin. “You’re like a brother to me.”
He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. Her wedding band flashed in the sunlight. I blinked.
