Where had she seen her before?
The car was getting cold now that the engine was off. The children went inside a while ago, probably for snacks and a nap. The cold air would help tire them out.
Trina turned the car on, wondering what this connection was that she’d found. She scanned through her memories of the women at the wedding. Her students. Friends of friends.
Nobody matched that face. But the tight grip of certainty in her chest remained. She knew this woman.
Trina clicked through a few other photos on Dermot’s Facebook profile. Next, she searched his list of friends, and then went to the link for the social service agency he worked for. And that’s when it finally hit her.
Seeing Dermot, all suited up in front of the squat gray building he worked in, posing with a rigid smile with his colleagues at the agency, triggered another memory for Trina.
Dermot, pulling out his key card outside his hotel room door, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder and his tie loosened at the neck.
“Shall we?” he said, swinging the door open and sweeping his arm in a wide arc to welcome Trina inside.
As she stepped into the room, something caught Trina’s eye in the gloom of the hotel hallway. A cleaning cart squeaked, and behind it was the woman—the girl, really—in Dermot’s photo. The dim light of the hallway and Trina’s muddled brain wouldn’t make for perfect recognition, but those eyes looked back at Trina long enough to make an imprint on her mind.
She’d watched Trina go into Dermot’s hotel room.
Dermot hadn’t given her a second glance. He may not have even known she was there.
And yet he had an intimate photo of her buried in his Facebook profile.
Trina needed to go back to that hotel. The woman was pushing a cleaning cart, but she hadn’t worn a uniform. From what Trina could recall, she’d worn a tight red dress.
Trina started the engine and reached to shift the car into gear when something tapped at her driver side window.
Trina flinched and automatically reached to lock her door. Looking out, another familiar face stared back at her, his expression one of desperate concern.
Dammit, it was Simon.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN SIMON
“How did you know I was here?” Trina’s face had looked frightened, and then annoyed once she recognized Simon. There was a dip in Simon’s chest as he worked to push down the anger that bubbled up automatically.
“I was driving by on the way to Blanche Grainger’s law offices and happened to see you parked here.” Which was partially true. There was no need to mention he’d been heading to Trina’s apartment when he spotted her car in the park.
Trina pursed her lips.
Simon didn’t mention that he was coming from the police station, or that he’d been on his way to her apartment when he spotted her. He didn’t mention that his wife had scheduled a special meeting with the detectives, implying that Trina was unstable and stalking them.
“I didn’t know you were planning on coming to my appointment,” Trina finally said.
A biting wind kicked up and Simon grimaced against the cold that scraped at his face. “It’s freezing out here,” he said, stating the obvious.
“The appointment’s not for another hour,” Trina told him. He clutched at the lapels of his coat and pulled them tighter around his body, trying to stand up straight and lean towards the window to talk to Trina at the same time.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Simon said and made to head back to his car, which was parked in the overflow lot off to the left.
Trina’s face softened just slightly. “Thank you for helping me,” she said, and then added something else that the wind snatched and whisked away before Simon could hear.
He approached her car again, aware that they must look like a clandestine couple meeting in the open privacy of a public park. A small blush crept up his neck, despite the below-freezing temperatures.
Simon wondered if Joyce followed him.
“What was that?”
“I said, I know it’s not your fault.”
Something gripped tight at Simon’s heart, and for a moment he considered turning again and just walking away. He wasn’t prepared for this type of discussion.
He didn’t say anything. He’d been waiting for this conversation for an entire year, in hospital rooms and lawyers’ conferences, on voicemails and unanswered calls and “chance” meetings at her apartment. A few meetings at his home, when Trina had shown up drunk and screaming his name so loud that Joyce threatened to call the police.
Joyce said it was humiliating.
“I know you were only trying to help.” Trina paused for a second, looked at him, and then turned back and moved to put the car in reverse as she rolled the window up.
“No!” Simon wasn’t trying to yell, but Trina was startled nonetheless.
He continued. “You can’t say something like that, giving me an opening to finally talk about what happened with Tom, and then just leave.”
The shift over Trina was immediate. “I was the one who loved him.” Any hint of understanding in her was gone, and Simon couldn’t blame her. What he said was selfish, almost cruel. And yet, it was exactly how he felt. Like parched soil just promised the rain, only to have it replaced by more dust.
“Please, Trina. We need to talk about this.”
“No, you need to talk about this.”
“Fair enough. But tell me.” Simon leaned his arm on the top of the car and bent down awkwardly. It felt wrong hovering over Trina the way that he was. He cast a sidewards glance to the empty center of the park. A leaf danced in the wind. “How often do you drink yourself to sleep each night? How often do you go out looking to pick up random guys just to numb yourself? The police think you had something to do with that young man’s death. Why were you even with him?”
Something flickered across Trina’s face. She got out of the car, pushing Simon back with her door as she opened and then slammed it shut.
Her beautiful face was so close to Simon’s that he could see the gold flecks in her irises. From a distance, they looked green, but standing near to each other, they appeared almost metallic.
“Why was I with him? With Dermot Carine?” Trina threw her hands up in the air.
Simon stumbled as Trina tossed the young man’s name into the wind. No one, not even the police, had said the victim’s name yet. Hearing it, especially from Trina’s mouth, made it all too real for him.
Trina continued. “Why am I with any of the men I go home with?” Trina clenched her teeth. “Because Tom, my would-be husband, was walking with me because I wanted to go get ice cream after looking at the house we were going to buy. It was a beautiful evening. Do you remember?”
Simon nodded, pathetic in the knowledge of where she was about to go. Why did he think having this conversation would help?
“And then a car on the street lost control, and rammed up onto the sidewalk, and Tom threw himself in front of me so that I would be protected.” Tears welled in Trina’s eyes, beginning to stream down her face as she continued. “Which meant he was crushed by the impact.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath, and although Simon reached out to comfort her, she moved away quickly and he let his arm fall.
“The car backs up and drives away. I don’t see the driver, or if there were any passengers. Everything is just chaos, and all I can focus on is Tom, crying out in pain. I don’t even see the color or make of the car, although at the hospital when the police collect Tom’s clothes they’ll find flecks of blue paint on his shirt.
“And then, it’s a miracle! A doctor—even better, a surgeon—is on the same road and sees it all happen. He pulls over, runs to help Tom, and starts performing life-saving measures. I follow his instructions, trying to help where I can, but my hands are shaking and I can barely hear what’s happening because the blood in my ears is pounding so hard.”
