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Across the desk, in Anne’s tiny home office, sprawled a dozen files, reports, and pictures. Above her, she’d placed a map, with pushpins stuck into the location of the murder, where the vic had lived, and all the places associated with the few leads they had. The last few days had been fruitless and frustrating. William’s alibi had checked out, and she didn’t know how she felt about that.
There had to be a reason why his ring had been at the crime scene. Either that reason was William had set up a pretty airtight alibi, having someone who looked enough like him pretend to go out of town, or… What? It couldn’t be a coincidence. So the alternative was that someone was targeting William in order to cover their crime. Unfortunately, neither option seemed particularly infeasible. William was crafty, and Anne had no doubt that he’d accrued a lot of enemies over his lifetime.
Twirling her pen in her left hand as she stared obstinately at the map, Anne couldn’t help her thoughts drifting back to William, and not in a professional way. He had looked different. Sharper. Almost gaunt. The high cheekbones that had always made him so striking now resembled axe blades on either side of his face. Though, she felt a shiver remembering how his biceps still strained the sleeves of his shirt. Prison had clearly been difficult for him. She wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to her before that this would be the case. Maybe because his silver tongue had gotten him out of practically every tight spot that he could find himself in. She’d never had to worry about him before.
She closed her eyes for a moment, almost feeling what it had been like to have that tongue in her tight spots. How it had searched and writhed, and he’d brought her to a quivering mess of delight every time he’d had the chance. He was so good at it.
But she couldn’t let him get to her like this again. He had been the best thing in her life, but he had also been her undoing. If she let her guard down now, things would get beyond messy.
With an almost preternatural sense, Anne knew that she was no longer alone. If only that sense were available to her on the job. She turned to see a head of golden curls peeking out of the doorframe, where Evie was trying to hide. Anne rose slowly, and then after two silent steps, swept her daughter up into her arms.
Evie exploded with giggles as Anne peppered kisses all over her forehead.
“Where did you come from? Weren’t you playing with Aunt Michelle?”
“She’s coloring.”
That meant Michelle was probably doing homework for her design class. Anne shifted Evie onto her hip and took her out of the office, making sure to close the door behind her. The girl couldn’t read yet, but there were certain images that Anne would prefer Evie not see until she was thirty, if possible.
“Oh, hey,” Michelle muttered without looking up as they entered the living room. Michelle was on the floor, cross-legged, as she used an X-Acto knife on some odd kind of paper. Anne couldn’t pretend she understood it. She only knew that the end result would be a graphic design degree and a well-paying job.
“Thanks for looking out for Evie this week. It’s been… intense,” Anne admitted. She shifted Evie on her hip, and the little girl rested her head on Anne’s shoulder. So sweet. Must’ve inherited that from her grandmother, since she clearly didn’t get it from either her mother or father.
“I mean, it’s just another homicide. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.” Michelle set her knife down and ran her fingers through her hair. Michelle’s hair was the same color as Anne’s, but it was long and straight, and Michelle normally wore it completely unadorned. She looked loose and relaxed as she sat there with her work.
Should I tell her about William? Anne wondered. It might help to unburden herself, but strictly speaking, it wasn’t a good idea to share details of a case with a civilian.
“Okay. It is a big deal. You don’t have to make that face at me,” Michelle said.
“I wasn’t making a face,” Anne protested.
“You were making Mom-face,” Michelle said flatly. “Mom-face at Evie; don’t Mom-face at me.”
Anne smiled a little. “Well, I didn’t mean to. I’m just preoccupied.”
“Is it a nasty one? The deep evil?”
Anne rubbed circles on Evie’s back. She was getting sleepy. Anne tossed a toy on the couch aside and sat down.
“No, not deep evil. Just personal.” Anne pinched her lips to the side. “You remember how I told you that William got out on appeal?”
“Yeah?” Michelle’s eyes went round. “Oh, God, did someone, I mean, is he…?”
“No! No, he’s fine. He’s just, you know, a suspect.”
Michelle’s mouth hung open. “Oh, my God.”
“Yes.” Anne gave a nod and looked down at Evie’s face. Out cold. It was late. She should’ve stopped obsessing over the case in her office an hour ago and put Evie to bed.
“Do you think he did it?”
Anne ran a hand over Evie’s curls. “I’m not sure. I can’t really talk details, but there’s a connection for sure. I just wish I could trust that he would tell me the truth. Or that I’d be able to know when he’s hiding something from me.”
Michelle sucked in her lower lip and raised a brow.
“What?”
“I mean, between the two of you, I dunno how either of you could guess when the other one was lying.” She held her hands up. “Not that I blame you for not telling him about Evie, but he’d for sure want to know.”
