“About what?” Avery urged.
“Her hours, me not taking her seriously enough, what my tone meant, why she rolled her eyes at me—at the end, it would be easier to name what we didn’t fight about.”
Avery gave a slow, understanding nod. “Did you end it? Or did she?”
Rachel tucked wisps of hair behind her ear self-consciously. “I did. Three weeks ago. I just…got so tired of fighting.” She inhaled deeply, settling back into the chair with a sigh. She had a pensive look, as though considering a question, and so Avery let the silence hang until she finally asked it. “What does it mean? Rockit iss…sooz?”
“Rache ist süß. It’s German. Revenge is sweet.”
Rachel’s pretty face soured with a scoff. “Of course.” She began smoothing the tassels on the decorative pillow again. “I’mthe one who didn’t want to keep screaming at each other every other night, so that makesmethe bad guy. I’m the villain, and she gets to lash out. She erases every good memory and plays the victim to feed her ridiculously overdramatic narrative!”
Something shifted in Avery, and for the first time, Saga heard a palpable edge in her tone. “Miss Walker, your former companiondiedundermysterious circumstances. Regardless of what you thought she might have beenplaying, in the end, shewasa victim.”
It took a moment for the weight of those words and their implications to sink in.
“Wait…” Rachel started, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “You don’t think I had anything to do with that, do you?”
“Do you have any idea why Valentina might have been driving around Knightsbridge at three a.m. that Monday?” Avery asked, cool and level.
“N-no.” Rachel shook her head. “I think her last patient lived near there—or maybe it was Westminster. Somewhere posh. They were old money. And a lot of it. But she wouldn’t have had a reason to be around there anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Mrs. Goff had finally passed away. Val called me about a week ago to ask if she could stay in the apartment for a few days until she figured out her next move.”
Saga perked up suddenly at the familiar name. “EiraGoff?”
Rachel startled and gaped at her, having indeed forgotten the other woman’s presence in her home.
Saga didn’t begrudge her this. Having personally experienced Avery’s gaze, she was rather aware it gave the illusion you were the only two people in the world, let alone the room. She swallowed, worried that blurting out Eira’s name might have ruined the rapport Avery had begun to build with her suspect.
Rachel stumbled, but thankfully continued. “Y-yes. Val had been with the family for several years. Before we started dating. She hadn’t been full-time with them then, though.”
“And where were you on Monday morning?” Avery’s warm voice pulled her back into the illusion of intimacy.
“Asleep. In Chelsea. When Val called, I went to stay with my mother as a courtesy so she’d have the apartment to herself. I didn’t want to see her, I was worried it would start another fight.”
“Can your mother verify that?”
“Yes!” Rachel covered her mouth with her fingers timidly, then held up both hands to amend the abrupt statement. “Well, mostly…until about nine p.m., anyway. She tucks in pretty early. I went to bed at midnight.”
Saga quirked an eyebrow, then circled the note she’d just written.Possible window of opportunity.
“So that was the last time you spoke? About the apartment?”
Rachel faltered, her eyes averting. “Um, well, I guess she also drunk-dialed me around eleven?”
The moment of silence that fell between them was noticeable. Heavy.
“She’d been drinking?” It was a simple prompt, giving no judgment or reaction to this new information about their more recent contact.
Rachel squirmed all the same, acutely aware she should have mentioned this interaction earlier. “I assumed she was? She seemed disoriented. She was slurring and kept repeating things.”
“What kind of things?”
Rachel’s eyes unfocused, trying to piece together the conversation from memory.
“Whatkindof things, Rachel?” Avery repeated softly, but deliberately. There was a resonance in the way she spoke the woman’s name that caught her attention.
