"Si. I know who murdered her." He responded cooly, "I remember doing underground work to figure out who she was in fact."
I could hear Martin take a deep breath as if he had been blindsided. I wanted to look at him and try to comfort him.
But sooner or later he knew that Martin would feel the pain that he had tried to bury. He knew that sooner or later the wound would reopen and he would fall into that pain again.
"Did you...did you kill my wife?" Martin croaked as he took a step forward.
The man raised his head, locking eyes with Martin, he seemed void of any emotion and that made me wonder.
Did he actually do it?
"No. I was too late." He said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You don't need to know."
"Bullshit! That was my wife who was murdered!" Martin growled.
"I understand that."
