As the guests filed out, I went to the reception desk and left my house key and access card.
Owen followed. "The investigation will take time. Come home with me for now. Please?"
He wasn't giving orders anymore. He even leaned toward me, the way he used to when he was coaxing me to take my medicine.
"I've told them to put your room back. Your photo albums, your curtains. Everything."
My breath caught. For the first time since I'd come back, my room didn't have to wait until after the wedding.
I'd wanted those words on my first night home. Now I'd seen the video. I knew why he'd kept putting me off.
"Don't bother."
"Then tell me what to do."
"Tell the investigators everything. Cooperate. And stop speaking for me."
"I will. Then what?"
He still thought we were negotiating. Do these
