“Sorry. Murder puts me in a bad mood.”
She nodded. “Working all night does it for me.”
He studied the knob and lock without touching it. “Locked, but the deadbolt’s not thrown. Get a picture. Any sign of a break-in on the other side?”
“Not that we could tell. Be easier by daylight tomorrow.”
“We’ll want that report ASAP. I’m going to take a look at the body.”
“Right.”
“I’ll need you to get the clothes from the girl and check her out. You swabbed her hands?”
The woman nodded. “Before you got here.”
“Plenty of blood on her robe. Stay with her while she changes clothes?”
“You’re taking her downtown.”
“Of course.” He went back to the office. Sam had gathered up some of the scattered papers and put them in a box. “Find anything?” Jay asked.
“Lots of homework. Name was Vincent Capelli, and--legally or not--he did pretty well. He wrote a monthly check for five grand to Sarah Anne Martin. The rest will take more digging.”
Jay gestured toward the victim. Sam came around the desk to join him. They stepped carefully, avoiding patches of bloody carpet.
The body didn’t tell them anything the medical examiner and evidence specialist hadn’t already. The man had carried a lot of weight on a frame that probably stood only five eight or nine. Balding, jowly, with big ears and a large nose.
“Anything jump out at you?” Sam asked.
“It wasn’t his looks that kept Sarah Anne Martin with him.”
Sam’s harsh laugh was half wry humor and half agreement. “I guess we’re going to have to have a long talk with the lady.”
Jay drew a deep breath and sighed. “Looks like a long night.”
Chapter 2
The policeman who’d shown up at the doorway when the detectives went out stayed with her. Sarah shivered as the two men left.
Neither had come right out and said it, but they didn’t believe her story. Their raised eyebrows and the awkward pauses between questions made their doubts all too clear.
Detective Hennesy was an older stocky man with a homely face moderated by a kind, sympathetic look in his eyes. He might give her the benefit of the doubt. The other man, Detective Christianson, was younger, taller, leaner, and would have been good looking except his expression was cold, almost harsh. No sympathy there.
“Are you all right, miss?” the young police officer asked. “Can I do anything for you?”
Can you make this all be a dream? She shook her head. “No thanks.” Vince, what the hell happened? Who were those men and why did they do it?
Cold settled into her bones. Were they going to arrest her? What would she do then? She couldn’t make her brain deal with it.
“Could I get a cup of coffee?” she asked.
The cop pulled out a box and spoke into it, asking if someone could get her the requested coffee. “We’ll try to get some for you,” he said.
Before it arrived, though, the pair of detectives returned.
“We’ve got to check every shoe in the place,” Christianson said.
Hennesy ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Marcia’s on it. Her guys are gathering them up.”
“Good.” Christianson turned to her. “We’d like you to come down to the office with us. We’re not arresting you, but we have questions we need to ask. First, we’d like you to change clothes and give us what you’re wearing.”
A woman came into the room behind him.
“Why?” Sarah stood, hoping she could stay upright as dizziness threatened.
“Evidence,” Christianson said.
The cold harsh tone made her shiver again. She looked up at him, meeting eyes whose color teetered between blue and gray but had ice in them either way. Still, for a moment she sensed something more behind those cool eyes, a fire he deliberately kept banked perhaps, a warmth he had to restrain.
She wanted heat. She felt stiff and shivery, like her bones were turning to ice.
“Ready?” the female police officer asked.
Sarah followed her out of the room. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. The detectives were watching her.
Sarah led the way to her own bedroom and crossed to the closet to get a pair of jeans, a shirt, and a fleece jacket. She got clean underwear out of a drawer and headed for the bathroom.
“Leave the door open,” the other woman said. “And hand me the robe and gown when you take them off. They’re evidence.” She slipped on a pair of latex gloves.
Sarah stopped in the doorway. “Can I take a shower? I’ve got blood all over me.”
“Not yet. I need to get some pictures of you dressed and undressed. Just to record the blood on you. And we may need more later.”
Fortunately the woman was quick and took no more than a few seconds snapping the pictures. When Sarah had changed and handed the things to her, the woman put them in a bag, sealed it with tape, and labeled it.
“Ready to go?”
Sarah shrugged into the fleece jacket and pulled her purse out of a drawer. Was she ready? Not really. She wasn’t ready for any of this. She felt like a robot or an animated ice sculpture. Her body moved, did the right things, but somehow her brain hadn’t caught up. Emotions were on hold. She lingered in that moment between knowing an injury had happened and feeling the pain from it.
That numbness saw her through the trip to the police station with the two detectives, being escorted to a small room with nothing but a table, five chairs, and a mirror on one wall--probably a window from the other side--and filling out an informational form. She gave them phone numbers for Dan and Marc, Vince’s sons. She didn’t know his ex-wife’s number.
“I want you to understand that you’re not under arrest right now and you’re free to go if you wish,” Christianson said.
Right now? “You think I killed him.”
Christianson’s eyes narrowed.
Hennesy’s tone and expression were gentler. “Miss Martin, you admitted you pulled the trigger on the gun. We have to start with that.
More ice congealed inside her. Even the blood in her veins was getting sluggish. Her brain wouldn’t work. Dark stars gathered at the corners of her eyes and nausea roiled her stomach. A hand pushed her head down to her knees. After a moment in that awkward position the darkness retreated. She drew a deep breath before she straightened up.
“You want a drink or something?” Hennesy asked.
“Coffee, if I can get some.”
Christianson left the room and returned a few minutes later with three cups of coffee, a few packets of sugar, and artificial creamer. It had to be the worst coffee she’d ever tasted, even with two sugars, but it was hot. She wrapped her hands around the cup and let the warmth penetrate her. Sipping it helped thaw some of the ice inside.
The first questions were easy--her name, address, birth date, and other facts about her life. Christianson tossed them at her, one after the other, while Hennesy scribbled notes on a legal pad. She answered with no problem, telling them she’d been born right there in Charlotte, North Carolina, the date, and her parents’ names. It went smoothly until they got to her place