“And I touched base with Candy.” Detective Lange sent her a brief glance. There was no missing the sympathy that flared in his eyes for a nanosecond before he turned back to her husband. “She confirmed you’d spent an hour with her the night of the tire slashing—but there’s a significant gap between the time you gassed up and your arrival at her place.”

Meg stared at Steve.

He’d lied about the waitress too.

As if sensing her scrutiny, he looked over at her. “Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee?”

It wasn’t a request.

But thanks to his injury, he was in no position to make her do anything.

Nor would he be ever again.

“I’m staying.”

He glared at her, but she straightened in her seat—even though she felt like curling into a ball and sobbing. Because all at once, her course was clear.

When the detectives left, she would too—and she wasn’t coming back.

“Let me tell you how this is going to play out.” Detective Lange moved to the foot of the bed and folded his arms. “As soon as you’re released, we’ll be booking you on multiple counts.”

“That’s crazy! Everything you have is circumstantial—and witnesses aren’t always reliable.”

“This one is credible.”

Steve’s lips thinned. “I’m not talking anymore without a lawyer.”

“Your choice. But if you cooperate, you improve your chance of a plea bargain. Keep that in mind.”

After glancing her direction, the two men disappeared out the door.

Meg stood, drawing Steve’s attention again. Beneath his veneer of bravado, he looked scared—and she almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

But he’d brought this on himself. On them.

She picked up her purse and clenched the strap to steady her shaking fingers. “We’re done.”

“You’re leaving me?”

“Yes.”

“What about those vows we took?”

“I don’t think the ‘for worse’ part includes deception, cheating, manipulation, and law-breaking.”

“The evidence they have won’t hold up in court.”

“So you’re admitting you threatened Eve? Left the fake bomb, slashed her tires?”

“I’m not admitting anything.”

“What about Candy?”

He studied her for a moment. Shrugged. “I made a mistake, okay? But she doesn’t mean anything to me. And they can’t put me in jail for having a fling. That’s not a crime.”

Despite the rays of sun warming her back as she faced him, a cold chill rippled through her. “No—but it’s a sin.”

He snorted. “Don’t get all religious on me. You’re not perfect either, you know.”

“I know—and you’ve reminded me of that on a regular basis for the past eighteen months. But I would never, ever cheat on you. Or do anything illegal—or immoral.” She crossed to the door, hoping her shaky legs would support her.