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She hated conceding that she needed to, but she did. She sat down in an armchair. Rodarte offered to get her a glass of water. She declined with a shake of her head. He sat in the chair facing hers and, leaning toward her, clasped his hands between his widespread knees. She noticed that his fingernails needed trimming.
“I’ll save us both some time here, Mrs. Speakman. Griff Burkett’s fingerprints were all over the letter opener that killed your husband.”
CHAPTER
23
LAURA COVERED HER MOUTH WITH HER HAND, AFRAID SHE would be ill in front of the two detectives.
“Are you okay?” Rodarte asked.
She shook her head, surged to her feet, and ran from the room. She barely made it into the powder room in time to retch into the toilet. Because she hadn’t eaten anything since dinner the evening before, there wasn’t much to empty. But the bile was bitter and continued to make her gag for several minutes. When the spasms finally ceased, her clothing was drenched with sweat. Her ears buzzed, her extremities tingled, and she was trembling uncontrollably.
She covered her face with her hands. From the moment she saw the police chaplains in the Jetway, she’d known that what they were about to tell her was catastrophic and that, whatever it was, Griff Burkett was involved. That overwhelming intuition had now been confirmed, and she wasn’t sure she could survive it. Knowing that he’d killed Foster might very well be the death of her, the death of the child she carried.
But she couldn’t think of the baby now or she truly would go mad.
“Laura?” Kay was knocking on the door. “Laura?”
“Just a moment.” She rinsed her mouth out and splashed cold water over her face, which was as pale as chalk. She ran her fingers through her hair, then, forcibly composing herself, opened the powder room door.
Kay was there, Rodarte just behind her. His expression was more inquisitive than concerned. Kay said, “I’m taking you upstairs and putting you to bed.”
“No. I’m better now. But could you please bring me a glass of Coke, Sprite, something fizzy?”
Kay was reluctant to leave her, but she went to fix the drink. Laura brushed past Rodarte and led him back into the library. Her knees were rubbery. Her damp clothes made her chilled in the air-conditioning. She wrapped herself in a throw before returning to the chair she had so quickly vacated.
The other detective hadn’t left his post, or even moved as far as Laura could tell. The three remained in silence until Kay delivered her the requested drink. “Call me if you need me,” she said, shot Rodarte a baleful look, and gave Laura’s arm a reassuring squeeze.
“Thank you, Kay. Please close the doors as you leave.”
Laura sipped her glass of soda, hoping it would settle her stomach and not come right back up.
Again Rodarte began without preamble. “Did you know him before he went to prison?”
She shook her head.
“Only since he got out?”
She nodded.
“How did you meet? Where?”
“In
this room.” She could tell that surprised him. “Foster was interested in him. He’d heard on the news that he was being released. He wrote to him, asked him to meet with him here.”
“Interested in him, how? What was it about a criminal football player that interested your husband?”
Looking him right in the eye, she lied. “I don’t know.” Telling the truth wasn’t an option. She had to protect her child’s future. She also had to protect the secrecy that Foster had insisted upon. “Mr. Burkett was only here that one time. By the time I was asked to join them for an introduction, they had concluded the business part of their meeting and were having a drink together.”
“It was friendly?”
“Very. At least it seemed so.”
He studied her a moment. She wasn’t sure he believed her. In fact, she was almost certain he didn’t. But there was no one to dispute her. “Was it during this friendly get-together that sparks ignited between you and Burkett?”
“Excuse me?”
