The Wife He Buried Alive novel · Chapter 17 of 32

Chapter 17: Seven Forty

The Ridgeline lookout is a gravel shelf above the river, with one streetlamp and a new guardrail.

The old rail had been replaced the year after my accident. The new one was bright, and the posts were set in fresh concrete.

I parked where the road bent and walked the last hundred feet.

It was a quarter past seven, and the wind came up off the water cold and loud.

At the bottom of the hill, Winston sat in a dark car with the engine off.

I had my phone in my coat pocket and my thumb on the side button.

Juliet was already there.

She stood at the rail in a camel coat with her hands in the pockets, looking down at the black river.

She had no makeup on.

Without it, she looked her age and tired.

"You came," she said.

"You asked."

"I wasn't sure. After this morning, I thought you'd send the police."

"I thought about it."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you said you'd say a name."

She turned her back to the water.

"I was nineteen when I met Winston," she said. "I loved him from the first week. It wasn't an act, whatever you think."

"I don't think it was an act. I think you loved him and took a call at twenty to eight."

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