Max lunged forward and caught the carafe angling closer to the floor and took it from Jason’s shaking hand.
“Go sit down. I’ll make it. Got one like it at the house.”
With an absent nod, Jason plopped on the nearest chair.
“Are the kids still asleep?” The question seemed to snap the guy out of his stupor.
“Uh, no, they’re with Audrey and her sister.” He gestured absently to the right. “Stephanie lives two blocks over. We didn’t want them scared by the news people. I haven’t told them yet…the boys.” His jaw clenched. “I don’t know how.”
“Have you eaten?”
Jason’s eyes shifted upward and to the left, trying to recall mundane activities trapped inside his muddled brain. “I can’t remember.”
Coffee brewing and filling the quiet space with something familiar and comforting, Max slipped two slices of bread into the toaster and retrieved butter and a jar of grape jelly from the refrigerator. After discovering eggs, milk, cheese, and some chopped ham, it didn’t take but a few minutes to whip up a fat omelet. He became a master at it after his divorce from Victoria. Seven years of bachelorhood gifted numerous skills. The second button on his light blue shirt bore proof he could use a needle and thread.
Satisfied with his creation, Max filled their cups, set the heaping plate in front of Jason, and sat down.
“Eat before you fall over.”
The poor guy stared at the food as if wondering how the hell it got there.
“Uh. Thank you.”
One tentative bite appeared to kick in the man’s appetite. He dug in for another scoop.
“Where’s your family?”
Jason stopped long enough to take his first sip of the hot brew. “Mine are dead. Mary’s came in last night. Her sister flew in from New York and put them up at a hotel outside the city.”
“Smart.”
“Yeah, Delia’s a tough lady. She’s helping them make the funeral arrangements for me. We’ll all tell the boys tonight, I guess.” He hesitated and set the fork aside.
Max was glad to find he at least ate half of the food. Eyes shining like polished marble lifted to his.
“We’ll bury Mary near her parent’s home. Maybe not in Elk City, but close. If I tried to do it here in the city, I’m sure someone would find out and trash her grave.” He blinked a few times as another realization slammed into his brain.
“I should move. Oh, God, this is so fucked up.”
“Yes, it is. Listen, this isn’t any easier than when we first spoke, but I promised to do everything in my power to figure out what happened. I need to search Mary’s things to find sense of what she did leading up to yesterday. A journal, notes, anything. Do I have your permission? Up to you.”
Jason nodded and pointed toward a doorway sporting quaint saloon-style swinging panels.
“Sure. Of course. Our room’s down the hall. I’ll show you.”
Long strides faltered the closer they came to the bedroom. He reached out, pushed the double doors open, and took a quick step back, almost as if afraid of electrocution for breaching the threshold. With both hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans and holding a steady glare on his socked feet, Jason’s cheeks revealed obvious embarrassment.
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing you told me yesterday sank in until I found the lockbox open and the gun and ammunition missing. I kept hoping the dead woman in the car was an eerie twin and Mary would come walking in the door after she fought her way out of the binds. How stupid is that?”
Max patted Jason’s slumped shoulders.
“Not at all. Lost a close friend once. I was there when he died. Right in my arms, in fact. Even still, it took me a solid month to quit expecting to hear his voice telling me to wake up every time I answered a ringing phone. I prayed I was in a coma. So no, your hope is far from stupid.”
Jason pursed his lips and managed what tried to be a soft laugh.
“Yeah, I guess our minds play tricks when we’re trying to come to grips with something so bizarre.”
“I agree.”
Gaze dropping to the gleaming hardwood floor, Jason gestured toward the bedroom.
“I’m sorry. I can’t go in there again. Besides, all her clothes are still in the—” His lips tightened.
“No, it’s all right. I understand. Don’t worry. Promise I won’t remove anything unless you look it over first and give permission.”
A sucking inhale spelled his relief. He thanked him with desperate eyes and backed up to the other side of the hallway. “Mary kept all of her stuff at the top of the closet…on the right.”
“Thank you. Now go finish your breakfast before it gets cold. Toast too. You’ll need your strength.”
“I’ll try.” He seemed to struggle with his next words. “Detective Browning?”
“Call me Max.”
Tightness around Jason’s gray eyes instantly softened. “Max, if you can figure out why my wife did this, I’ll be eternally grateful. I’m losing my goddamn mind. None of this makes any sense, but obvious I missed something big with her. Whatever it is, don’t hold back. I need to know.”
“That’s my plan. I’ll come to you first when I have something definitive.”
Jason stared at him for a few beats, as if still unable to understand why he didn’t see hate lashing out at him. “You’re a good man, Max.” On a cleansing breath, he turned, and made his way back toward the kitchen.
Fuck. Max sagged against the doorframe. He hadn’t experienced this unnerving ball of tangled emotions banging in his chest in what felt like forever. His mind kept switching Sean into this horrid situation and wondered how he could bear the pain of watching him suffer. Jason didn’t deserve to have his life upended for loving Mary.
Disturbed he let his guard slip, Max shook it off and stepped inside the room decorated with southwestern themed pictures on crème painted walls and sporting waist-high light-pine paneling—the good kind showcasing the age rings of the trees without being overbearing to the eye. It went well with the teal carpeting and slightly darker wood furnishings.
Analysis mode shoved back to the forefront and settled his nerves. To the immediate left, he noticed a precision-made king-size bed covered in a spread bearing the same motif carried throughout the home. Two mauve lamps positioned on sturdy nightstands sat either side. A short bureau with a round mirror rested against the wall opposite the bed. He made a mental note to address those later. It appeared the closet to his right held the key. The door was still open. Jason wanted out of this room so badly he hadn’t even bothered closing it.
Max knew the feeling, but on a different level. He remembered standing inside his own closet and staring at a miniscule amount of Victoria’s clothes she left behind, her perfume still lingering on the coats and scarves. She removed everything the next day, but the scent still stuck around for weeks. It was a knife to the gut every time he’d had to venture inside and pull a dress shirt off a hanger. He’d caught himself wearing the same one for three days and finally got his shit together.
Bad memories pushed aside, Max looked down and found the empty lockbox resting on the floor. He put it back in the only open slot on the top shelf. After searching through a few boxes filled with sewing material, yarn, and infants clothing, Max found something of interest, her treasure trove of memories holding