Page 61 of Carter

“Hi, are you Lilianna Travers?” I ask.

“Yes, that’s me,” she says warily. “Wh-who are you?”

“My name is Detective Nash Bennett.” I flash my badge. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Is Peter okay?”

“I’m not sure who that is, ma’am, so I’m sure he’s fine.”

She nods, stepping aside. As I set a foot inside, she holds up her hand. “Could I see your badge again?”

“Of course.” I hold it out to her, gesturing for her to take it. She does.

“It’s heavier than I thought it would be.”

She offers it back so I take it and put it away.

I step into a small living room, a couch and TV set up to the right. It’s cozy, warm, the scent of spices thick in the air. There are photos on the wall of her and a man that I assume is Peter. I’m not here to pass judgment, but he could be the reason she never went to the cops about what happened. It’s common.

“Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“No, thank you.”

She gestures to the couch, so I sit, and she sits in the recliner that’s facing it.

“So, what can I help you with?”

I pull out my pad and pen. “You worked at Rayne Care Facility three years ago, is that correct?”

She flinches slightly. Barely. A normal person wouldn’t have noticed, but I saw it.

“Yes, but I haven’t worked there in a long time.”

“Three years ago,” I say with a smile. “You quit, right?”

“Yes, I did.”

“May I ask why?”

She blinks. “The hours weren’t great.” I can’t tell if she’s lying or not, but why the reaction if it was so simple? “Peter, he’s my husband, and he works during the day. I was working evenings. We never saw each other.”

“Fair reason to quit. Where do you work now?” I ask.

“At the Quick & Dry around the corner.”

From nursing to laundromat attendant. Interesting.

“Is there a reason you changed careers?” I ask, trying not to sound like I’m interrogating her. I need to ask questions, but I don’t want to be cruel about it.

“It’s close by. Has good hours.”

And a major pay cut, I’d assume.

“Mrs. Travers, there is no easy way to ask this, so I’m just going to ask.” Her eyes widen, hands wringing together. “Were you ever assaulted on your way home after work? Perhaps, roughly three years ago, after you were leaving the—”

“Honey, I’m home!” is called out just as the front door opens.

Lilianna’s eyes go so wide it’d be comical under other circumstances. Then she pales just a bit. What is she so afraid of?