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“How nice you’ve made friends with another intern. Maybe the two of you could come by the studio one day and sit in on one of the brainstorming sessions Eric and I do. It would be a chance to see another side of marketing.”
Emma is treated to a tight smile, like she’s a tricky customer bothering a busy receptionist. “That’s nice of you, but we aren’t supposed to cut out during the day.”
“Right.” As if Brittany couldn’t ask her stepdad for a hall pass to explore something new. But Emma wants to make a connection and moves on to plan B. “Then how about having your friend join us here for dinner one night?”
This time Brittany wrinkles her small, pert nose. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea. I mean, she’s in awe of Tom like everyone else there, and I’m sure she’d love to see this incredible house of his, but there’s already a little bit of weirdness over me having access to him that nobody else does, and it wouldn’t seem fair to give a friend special access, too.”
There’s an implied dig in there, about the house beingTom’s, but Emma lets it go and nods. “Got it.”
“Where is Tom, anyway?”
“He had to run by the office for a bit, and then later, for dinner, we’ll probably grab a pizza in town. Would you like to join us?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll stay in and watch a show I’ve been wanting to see.”
She hasn’t, Emma notices, taken a bite from the plum yet.
“There are plenty of those premade meals we order in the freezer, and stuff for a salad, too. Just help yourself.”
“Thank you.... I was going to make myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?”
Okay, that’s nice enough, Emma thinks, but she declines graciously, saying she has something she needs to do upstairs. Not only has she had enough of Brittany for the moment, but she’s too rattled from seeing Kyle to engage in any more small talk.
On the second floor, Emma slips out onto the balcony outside their bedroom and collapses onto one of the lounge chairs. She can blow off the exchange with Brittany, especially knowing she’ll be gone in a matter of weeks, but the one with Kyle is another story.Is he full of it?she wonders.Has there really been a tip, and if so, what could it possibly be?Something abouther?
Webster knows she didn’t shoot her husband. Everything the cops went through twenty-seven months ago, including her cell-phone and E-ZPass records, validated the fact that she was home in New Jersey the entire night of the murder. And they never found any evidence suggesting she’d paid someone to lure Derrick to that alley and do the deed for her, either.
What Webster is certainly wondering, however—just as the detectives assigned in the past must have wondered—is whether Emma reallyhadpaid someone to pull the trigger and had just been clever enough not to leave a single clue behind.
