She Wore Mourning by P.D. Workman (best desktop ebook reader .txt) 📕

“No. No, I’m sorry I got you all out here… I just heard someone… I wasn’t expecting visitors…”

“Better than getting shot or cracked over the head by a burglar. We discourage people from rushing in if they think there’s someone in the house.”

They prepared to leave, finishing their various notes and calls and whatever else had to be done to document the incident before leaving. They all wished Zachary and Bridget a Merry Christmas and headed out.

And then it was just Zachary and Bridget. Standing there looking at each other, not sure what to say or do.

“I’m sorry,” Bridget apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was really worried.”

“It’s okay. I was at the hospital.” He held up a hand before she could rush in, demanding to know if he was okay. “I had a client attempt suicide last night.”

She gave a laugh of disbelief. “I’ll bet that was a shock.”

“It was, and it wasn’t. The timing was… fortuitous… if a suicide attempt can be fortuitous.”

She looked back toward the bathroom. “Because you were considering it yourself.” She said it baldly. There was no beating around the bush with Bridget.

“More than considering,” Zachary admitted.

“I’ll finish going through this stuff.” Bridget went back into the bathroom and continued to examine the pill bottles. “Do you want me to stay with you today?”

“No. You go on back, have dinner with Gordon and his family.”

She turned and looked at him through the doorway, her eyebrows shooting up. “What? How do you know my plans?”

“I just assumed…”

“You just assumed what? I’ve never even told you who I’m seeing!”

“It’s a small world. I still hear from friends.”

She threw a couple of pill bottles away with a scowl and quick, angry movements.

“I told you before; you stay out of my business. Just quit it!”

Zachary leaned against his bureau, watching her. “You’re the one breaking into my house,” he reminded her.

“I didn’t break in. I have a key.”

“And you called Kenzie to warn her off?”

Bridget paused, and he saw her biting the inside of her cheek as she thought up a response.

“I felt like it was my duty to let her know… how things are.”

“Why didn’t you call her when you couldn’t find me? I might have been having Christmas with her.”

“I did,” she admitted.

“But I’m the one interfering in your life.”

“I’m sorry if you think I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, Zachary, but it’s for your own safety. Just because things didn’t work out between us, that doesn’t mean that I don’t still care about you. I don’t want you to… I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

Zachary sighed, watching her clear away the last few bottles of pills. Her instincts had been absolutely correct. She knew from experience how difficult the season was for him.

She lifted the garbage bag and tied the top.

“Did you leave me with anything?” he asked.

“A few Tylenol. A few Ambien and Xanax.” She shrugged. “If you need something… call me.”

What he needed was the life that they had had together.

But she had ripped that away from him, and she wouldn’t be giving it back.

Chapter Thirteen

A few days after Christmas, while Zachary knew that Isabella was still in the hospital, he made arrangements to see Spencer. He called ahead like Spencer had asked him to, as if he were making an appointment with a lawyer or dentist. As far as he knew, Spencer’s days were filled with testing and reviewing products on the computer. He didn’t have meetings or a school or studio schedule to coordinate. Just sitting in his home office, doing his work there. Zachary wanted Spencer to be in a cooperative mood, not in a hurry to kick him out of the house because he hadn’t been prepared to receive a visitor.

He arrived on time, and Spencer opened the door for him before he even had a chance to knock.

Spencer looked as though he had aged ten years. His face was creased and pale. His Christmas obviously hadn’t been any better than Zachary’s. Maybe even worse. He nodded a polite greeting and took Zachary back to his office and had him sit in the chair. Zachary sat staring at the stuffed dog still perched on top of the printer.

“I want to have a serious discussion with you about Isabella.”

Spencer rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What about Isabella? You know everything there is to know.”

“Why do you think she tried to kill herself?”

Spencer looked surprised. “Because she is depressed. Grieving.”

“But why would she want to kill herself? Lots of people are depressed or grieving. They go to the doctor. They get antidepressants. Therapy. Why wouldn’t Isabella do any of that?”

“She did. She went to her therapist. Support group. She didn’t want any medications, because of the side effects. She called Molly and had her stay over sometimes. She painted.”

“Why wouldn’t she take meds?”

“Because they can cause worsening of symptoms. An increase in suicidal thoughts. She didn’t want to risk it. She’s had meds before. They never seemed to work out well for her.”

“It takes some fiddling around sometimes,” Zachary said. “Trying different medications and different dosages.”

“She didn’t have the patience for it. If the first prescription didn’t work… she didn’t want to try anything else. That was it; she’d had enough.”

Zachary doodled in his notepad. He had sympathy for Isabella. He’d been there himself. He knew what it was like to be broken, and none of the things that were supposed to help would.

“Are you sure it wasn’t guilt that drove Isabella to suicide?”

“Guilt? I suppose.” Spencer gave a shrug. “She felt guilty about Declan getting out of the yard without her realizing it. That she was too late. We all feel guilty for being too late.”

“I wonder if it went deeper than that. What if she was the one who gave him the cough medicine?”

Spencer grimaced and shook his head. “She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t give him cold medicine because it might knock him out. It scared her.”

“Maybe