“Rosalind?”
I looked directly at my husband.
“You should have checked whether I was dead before you started dividing up my life.”
He rushed toward me, reaching for my arm.
“Rosalind, thank God. I thought—”
An investigator stepped between us.
“Stay where you are, sir.”
Garrett’s expression changed in an instant. His grief vanished, replaced by anger.
“You don’t understand what happened. The car—”
“Went into the river because you drove it there,” I said. “You left us trapped inside.”
“You were confused. It was an accident.”
“Then why was my seat belt tied to the frame?”
He went silent.
I took one step closer.
“Why did you leave the window open before the car hit the water? Why were you waiting for Penelope? And why were you discussing my death three weeks before it happened?”
Penelope began to cry.
Garrett turned on her.
“Don’t say anything.”
It was the first honest thing I had heard him say in years.
