would have been her husband, but then Parker Hill had taken her life. Beckett had blamed himself for not getting to Meghan in time, and Wilder had reassured him over the years that it wasn’t Beckett’s fault Meghan was dead.
It was Wilder’s fault. And he’d never told a soul.
He would not let Cosette’s stalker get the jump on him. Take her from him—from the team, not him. She wasn’t his. Couldn’t be.
“Do you know who might have done this, Miss LaCroix?” the officer asked.
“It’s pronounced Lah-Cwah. Not Lah-Kroy like the drink,” Wilder offered.
Cosette gave him the I-can-talk-for-myself look and he motioned her on with his hand. He hadn’t meant to butt in and answer for her, but he was a frenzy inside and needed to harness what little control he could of the situation.
Cosette cleared her throat, her cheeks turning almost the same shade as her cherry lips. “I, um, dated a man when I worked in Washington, DC—Jeffrey Levitts. He was head of the clinic I worked at. After about six months, he became jealous and possessive. I should have seen the signs earlier on, but...” She shrugged. “I tried to break things off and he became compulsive toward me. Gifts. Jewelry. Makeup—he knew my favorite line. He’d show up at my door at all times of the night.”
“Did you report any of this? Get a restraining order?”
Wilder withheld his snort. Meghan had filed one report after another and it got her nowhere. Probably didn’t get Cosette anywhere, either, but at least it would be on record if it went to court.
“I didn’t.”
What? “Why?” he demanded.
She wouldn’t look at him. That drove him nuts. The last thing he wanted was Cosette to feel too afraid to make eye contact or to feel intimidated or insecure because of him. “Look at me.”
She hesitantly met his gaze.
“Were you too scared to file a report?” Wilder asked.
“I’m a trained professional. How would that look on the record?” She turned back to the officer. “He broke into my place a few times. I came home to him on my couch twice. He left of his own volition. He’s a psychiatrist and far from stupid. Extremely cunning. Manipulative. He keyed my car. The list goes on. But this past weekend, I had an encounter with another man.”
“Another old boyfriend?”
“Yes.” She sighed and rubbed her temples. She explained what had happened at the reunion and her relationship with Beau Chauvert.
“Any other boyfriends that might be after you?” he asked, with a hint of judgment in his voice. Wilder put his arm around her. Seemed there was a whole hidden side of Cosette she’d tried to keep private. Nothing like dirty laundry being publicly aired. Wilder didn’t want his aired, either.
They finished taking her statement and said she could be back inside the apartment in twelve to twenty-four hours. Well, Wilder wasn’t letting her near this place alone. She was safer at CCM. With him.
“Do you have enough at your old apartment or do we need to swing by a convenience store?”
“I have enough.”
Wilder led her to the car and drove her to CCM. She didn’t say a single word and he didn’t force her to talk. She needed to process. He understood. Sometimes silence was better than “couch sessions.”
Inside, she rubbed her neck and glanced at the stairwell as if she was too exhausted to climb the winding case to the apartment she and Jody had shared for the past three years. He’d gotten used to having them both here—having Cosette here. More than he wanted to admit. More than he ought to. “You want coffee or something?”
“No,” she whispered. “I think I’ll just go on up.”
But she didn’t move.
“How about I escort you?”
She nodded.
He led her upstairs to the apartment door. She refused to meet his eyes. This wasn’t the confident, feisty woman he...cared for. He raised her chin until she had no choice but to peer straight at him. “No one—no one, Cosette—is getting through this door but me. And anyone you personally invite in. You’re safe.”
“I’m sorry, Wilder. I should have told you when I interviewed for the job why I wanted it—to relocate because of Jeffrey. I knew deep down I’d be safe with you, but I was afraid if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t trust my judgment. Wouldn’t think I could do the work.”
Her eyes turned watery and his heart thumped against his chest. She’d run to him for safety. A man she barely knew. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “You have yet to prove you’re unable to do your job here, Cosette.”
“I know the excellence you demand from your team, Wilder.”
“And I know the excellence you provide. Now, no more talk about me sending you packing for making crummy choices in men.” He smirked, hoping to gain a smile from her.
“I should have known better with Jeffrey. I’m a professional.”
“You can’t go back, Cosette. If we could...” His regrets plowed into him like a freight train.
Cosette simply nodded. Exhaustion and fear made her face seem smaller, paler. Frail.
“Has he messed with you prior to Thursday?” Wilder asked.
“After I first moved to CCM, he called repeatedly for a year.”
“Why didn’t you change your number?”
“I blocked him. My patients need me. Sometimes I still get calls from the ones I left behind in Washington. I don’t make my address known. I got a PO box once I moved here. But if he wanted to, I suppose he could have hired someone to find me. He never showed up, so...”
“I wish you’d have told me early on. I could have done something.” Yes, he’d failed before, but he wasn’t going to this time.
“What, Wilder? It was ‘he said, she said.’ He has clout in Washington. Knows people in high places.”
“So do I.”
“I know, but after hearing about Meghan in the interview, I didn’t want you to relive any of your past—go through that pain again.”
Wilder relived it every day. Pondered what he should have done differently. He’d had zero control. Lost, and almost lost, too many people he cared about.
The image of his barely breathing sister lying across the bed came to him. Her eyes, as green as his, fading quickly...
“Who did it? Was it Parker Hill?”
She hadn’t been able to speak; bruising had already begun around her neck. Couldn’t even nod or blink.
Her larynx had been crushed by violent hands.
It felt like forever, but it had been only seconds before he lost her and performed CPR. An ambulance wouldn’t have made it any faster, done any better.
Wilder couldn’t bring her back. Couldn’t make her breathe again.
She’d been under his protection since the day she was laid in his arms after she’d been born. Only three years after him.
“Wilder, this is your new baby sister. She’s delicate and it’s your job as the big brother to look after her. Keep her safe. You understand?” Dad had asked.
“Yessir,” his three-year-old self had said, and he’d vowed right there that he’d never let any harm come to her.
If he’d arrived sooner, demanded to stay with her after she’d insisted on him and Beckett leaving... If he’d only controlled the