Maybe . . . maybe there was an explanation for everything. Steve may have been afraid that if he told her the truth about his past, she wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with him. It was possible Candy was nothing more than a friend. The jewelry purchases could have a simple explanation too. His friends might have asked him to put gifts on his credit card to keep the purchases hidden so they could surprise their wives. Some guys were thoughtful like that. The hair on the parking lot could also be coincidence.

But that was a lot of maybes and might haves and could be’s.

Too many.

Meg pulled out a length of toilet paper and wiped her mouth, but bitterness clung to her tongue—and her heart.

It appeared she’d been a fool.

The very word her parents had used when she’d told them she was going to marry Steve.

Someone came into the ladies room, and Meg straightened up. She should get back to her desk. Focus on her job. She had eight hours to decide what to do about the situation at home. And if she needed more time than that, she’d figure out how to buy some.

She wadded up the soiled tissue and tossed it in the toilet bowl, flushing away the evidence of her bout of nausea.

Nausea.

She watched the water swirl in the bowl.

That could work, considering how Steve had walked a wide circle around her during the morning sickness phase of her pregnancy. Even a hint of the stench of vomit made him queasy—and she knew how to produce that, thanks to the battle she’d once waged with bulimia.

If necessary, that tactic could give her breathing space to discover the truth about Steve.

Because if he’d done everything the detective claimed, she’d rather stick a finger down her throat than let Steve lay another finger on her body.

That hadn’t been fun.

Brent exhaled and propped a shoulder against the conference room wall. Watching someone crumble never was—even if they were a virtual stranger.

But his job was to nail the bad guys, and sometimes the innocent people who got sucked into their orbit crashed and burned too.

That wasn’t the fate he wished on Meg.

God willing, she’d survive this. And in the long run she’d be better off without that user. It was even possible that once she thought through everything, she’d be willing to admit her husband had been gone far longer than was necessary for a fill-up at the corner gas station. If they could poke a few holes in his—

“Knock knock.” Eve stuck her head around the half-open door. “May I come in?”

“Sure.” He pushed off from the wall.

She entered and closed the door behind her. “I caught a glimpse of Meg in the hall. She looked bad.”

“I know.”

“You don’t look too hot yourself.”