‘His soon to be ex-wife,’ Ryan corrected. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to make that clear.
‘Okay … ’ The cop looked suddenly uncomfortable. ‘And what is your relationship with Mrs Marshall?’
‘I’m in love with her.’
And wasn’t that the kicker? He’d let his guard down, again, and here he was. Sitting in a police station asking questions while cradling his aching hand. His chest was aching even more than his hand was. He couldn’t stop thinking about her face when he’d hit her soon-to-be ex-husband. Did she hate him for it? He wasn’t sure.
They shot another barrage of questions at him.
What was their relationship?
Why had he done it?
Did he realise it was assault in the second degree?
He never should have come back.
‘Does she know that you’re in love with her?’
Ryan laughed, though there was no humour in it. ‘I’m not sure what you’re asking. Have I told her I’m in love with her? No. Does she know it? Well, she sho
uld.’
‘Are you in a relationship?’
‘I guess.’ He felt stupid, not being able to say more.
‘Mr Sutherland, you’re not making this easy. We’re just trying to get the facts here. Please can you state your relationship with Mrs Marshall.’
Ryan felt cornered. ‘Juliet and I are friends. Or we were.’ God only knew what they were to each other now. He’d managed to mess everything up.
‘So you’re a friend who’s in love with her.’
‘Can we move on?’ Frank rolled his eyes. ‘My client has an impeccable record. He’s a single father with a son who relies on him. We’d like to get him home as soon as we can.’
‘We’re just trying to establish the facts. As soon as we do then we’ll follow procedure. Mr Marshall has stated he’s extremely afraid of any further attacks. At the moment we need to keep the victim’s wishes in mind.’
‘He thinks I’m gonna hit him again?’ Ryan was incredulous. ‘I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.’
The questioning went on for another hour. Through the small, frosted window near the roof, he could see the sun slowly closing shop for the day, replaced by the early evening gloom. Eventually they took him back to his cell, while Frank left to go home for the evening.
They had the right to hold him for twenty-four hours without charge, so Ryan knew he had a night in jail ahead of him. Frank had promised to check on Charlie, who was staying with a school friend for the night, far away from the house and any gossip that might hit him. Ryan wanted to be the one to tell his son about the confrontation.
A couple of hours later they gave him some food – a plastic-wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a bottle of water. He opened the bottle, guzzling the liquid down, then placed the sandwich on the concrete bench he was sitting on, and curled up, using the bread as a pillow.
Funny, the tricks you learned as a traveller.
He had no clue what time it was. They’d taken his watch, along with his phone and wallet, plus the laces from his shoes. It could have been seven or eleven for all he knew. This grey square of a room had a time zone different to any other. Minutes felt like hours, and the only thing to fill the empty space were his thoughts. He couldn’t escape them no matter how much he wanted to.
Couldn’t escape the memory of Juliet’s expression, either. The way she’d looked at him when she told him to go home. There was shock behind her eyes, but something else, too. Contempt, maybe, even disgust. All melded together with an anger that made his heart hurt.
This town was no good for him. It was making him crazy.
It was breaking his goddamned heart.
He needed to know where they stood. Whether she felt the same way as he did. Whether getting thrown in jail had been another fool’s errand or a noble gesture for the woman who loved him back.
He needed her to love him. Otherwise …