A Dangerous Widow (A Dangerous Series) Read Free

happened?
    “We’ll get you into your home as swiftly as
possible,” the female officer said as she placed a hand on Kate’s arm.   The woman was sitting in the back of the
cruiser next to her.   What had she
said her name was?   Officer Ward?   Kate was in such a state of shock, she
couldn’t remember.   She looked out
the car’s front and side windows, saw photographers taking shots of her, and
somehow came back into herself despite the fact that she felt faint again.
    “Are you with me?” the woman asked
again.  
    “Get me inside,” Kate said.   “They’ve already stolen enough of me.”
    “Then take my hand,” the officer said in a
kind voice that Kate registered as genuine.   “We’ll get out on my side—it’s
closest to the sidewalk.   The door
to your home is just steps away from us.”   And then she just stopped and studied Kate’s face.   “Look, I’m concerned about you.   I know you don’t want to faint in front
of that crowd.   Do you need another
moment?”
    “No.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.”
    “All right.   If you’re with me, we can get away from
the press quickly.   But I need you
to focus and to keep up, as difficult as that sounds.   But I’ll have your back.   So, hold tightly onto my hand.   I’ve got you.”
    And she did.
    The moment they exited the cruiser, the
officer gripped Kate’s hand in her own.   Despite the rise of voices that shouted at her as she stepped out of the
car and onto the sidewalk, and the staccato flashes of lights that encompassed
her as she was led toward her front door, Kate dug down deep, held it together
as best she could, and soon found herself in the vestibule, with the door
closed firmly behind her.
    “Are you all right?” the officer asked.
    Kate didn’t respond.   Ahead of her, she saw officers moving in
the foyer.   More flashes of light,
but these lights were somehow colder.   And there was Lydia, crying somewhere in the distance.
    “I’m here for you,” the woman said.   “And by the way, my name is Anna.   And I’m so sorry, Mrs. Stone.   All of us are.”
    As wealthy as she had become through her own
hard-won successes and through Michael’s business hitting it big several years
ago, Kate Stone remained, at heart, Kate O’Malley, the middle-class girl from
Vermont who was raised by good parents that had instilled within her a sense of
humility and kindness.   And because
of that, it was purely knee-jerk when she said, “Please—call me Kate.”  
    “If you wish.”
    “Where is he?” Kate asked.
    “In the foyer.”
    “What happened to him?”
    “Do you know a Lydia Brown?”
    “Of course.   She’s our cleaning lady.   She was scheduled to clean today.   And she’s here now.   I can hear her crying.”
    “She’s shaken.”
    “What happened here?   What happened to my husband?”
    “Mrs. Brown was washing the foyer’s floor
when your husband came to the top of the stairs to speak to her.   Apparently, you have a Great Dane?”
    “Bruiser,” she said.
    “This is what Mrs. Brown witnessed and has
testified to—when your husband approached the stairs, Bruiser allegedly
rushed up them to greet him, but when he did, he clipped Mr. Stone at the
knees, and Mr. Stone tripped over him and fell hard down the stairs.   By all appearances—and given the
hysterical state Mrs. Brown was in when she called 911—your husband fell
over Bruiser, tumbled down the staircase, and broke his neck, according to the
M.E.   If this means anything to you,
I was told that his death was instant.   I’m so sorry, Mrs.—Kate,” she said, correcting herself.   “I’m so sorry, Kate.”
    “I need to see him.”
    “My strongest recommendation is that you
don’t see him now.   Please trust me
on this.   There will be time for
that later—when we’ll need for you to identify his body.   But not like this.”
    “Take me to my husband,” she said.
    “Kate,” Anna said.
    There was steel in