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“It’s all right,” he says again. He lifts his foot so a cop can pull the pants up his leg. “Can you grab my shoes? Once they leave, just call Brian. He’ll take care of everything.”
“I don’t know his number.”
“It’s in your phone.”
A cop follows me into the bedroom and makes me stand off to the side while he gets Dek’s shoes. He keeps warning me to keep my hands where he can see them and not to make any sudden moves.
“Question her, too,” Warren says when we come back out with the shoes.
Tears run down my face as Deklan is hauled away, and one of the cops sits me down on the couch. I watch helplessly as the apartment is ransacked.
“Can you tell me where you were yesterday evening?”
I stare at him for a moment, not even understanding the question. I realize it’s the same officer who talked to me after I conked my head—Longbow.
“Mrs. Kearney?” Longbow sits on the coffee table and looks me in the eye.
“We went out for dinner,” I say.
“Where did you go?”
“A steakhouse. I don’t remember the name of the place.”
“What time did you arrive?”
As I go over the entire evening, cops go in and out of the apartment, digging through every drawer and closet. I keep waiting for them to come up with one of Deklan’s guns or a large stack of cash, but they don’t seem to find anything of interest.
“Her purse has about seven hundred in cash,” I hear a cop tell Detective Warren. “No guns, no ammo. There isn’t even a joint in this place.”
“He’s moved whatever was here,” Warren says. “Check for storage lockers, and go through his car.”
“The car isn’t in the parking garage. There’s a rental in his assigned spot.”
“Dammit!”
I look up at the officer, confused by his words. When did Deklan change cars? We had taken his to dinner last night, so where did the rental come from? For that matter, why were the pants he wears to the gym lying out on the dresser?
I know one thing—I’m glad I’m actually wearing pajamas. Otherwise, I would have been completely naked when they got here.
Did Deklan know they were coming? Is that why he insisted I wear something to bed?
“What time was the movie?” Longbow asks.
“Around eight,” I say. “The ticket is in my purse.”
Longbow finishes his questions and goes over to Warren.
“If her story checks out, and the ME’s time of death is verified, we’re going to have a problem.”
“It was him,” Warren says with a shake of his head. “I know it was. His gun. His prints. We have him this time.”
“I’m not so sure,” Longbow replies.
“She’s not a reliable witness,” Warren says. “We can’t go on her testimony. Bring her to the station. I want to question her myself.”
Longbow comes back over and sits next to me.
“Detective Warren would like you to come answer a few more questions,” he says. He glances up at the detective, who is rooting through some paperwork on the kitchen island and mumbling to himself. Longbow leans close and speaks softly to me. “You’re not obligated to come. He can’t make you without a subpoena.”
