AllFreeNovel
Share Us
24
FOR A FEW TERRIFYING SECONDS, EMMA WONDERS IF WEBSTERhas come to arrest her—or Tom.
“Good evening, Emma,” the detective says, smiling wanly.
No, that’s not about to happen, Emma decides, wanting to cry in gratitude. Webster wouldn’t be on her own and addressing her this congenially if she was about to snap on a pair of cuffs and haul her off in a squad car.But what the hell is she doing here?
“Hello,” she manages to respond. She takes a single step across the threshold, preventing Webster from entering the studio. “What can I do for you?”
“Is everything all right?” the detective asks in lieu of a reply. Her eyes have dropped to the floor behind Emma, where her bag is lying in a heap with files poking out. Webster clearly saw her stooping over and might have even spotted her reading the note.
“Everything’s fine,” Emma says, slowly squashing the paper in her hand. “Can I help you with something?”
What she’d really like to do is ask why Webster’s on private property without permission, but she knows she has to play it cool right now.
“There was no answer at the house, so I decided to try your office. I was in the area, and I wanted to follow up on one point from our original conversation.”
Why in the world is she in the area—or is that a lie, a cover for simply trying to catch Emma off guard again? And is Webster thinking she’ll invite her in or suggest they head into town for cappuccinos like Tom did? That’s not going to happen.
“I’m glad to hear you’re still working on the case, but as I believe Peter Dunne told you, he’s going to be addressing questions on my behalf going forward.”
Webster frowns, creating a furrow across her wide, smooth forehead. “That’s a shame. All I wanted was the answer to a single query—just to help me straighten something out in my own mind.”
“Mr. Dunne will be happy to be of assistance with whatever it is.”
Another frown, as if Emma’s hired some 1-800 lawyer and the detective is concerned on her behalf. “You can’t take one minute, Emma, to tell me yourself? It’d save me valuable time.”
A prick of anger pierces Emma’s unease. Webster has no right to pressure her this way. She takes a breath, trying to summon the words that will get the detective out of her hair without seriously pissing her off.
“According to the notes from our interview,” Webster continues, as if Emma’s momentary silence means she’s willing toanswer the question, “you and your husband met while you were working at his ad agency, but when he and I spoke, he mentioned that you’d first crossed paths in Miami. Would you mind clearing up that discrepancy?”
A wave of panic rolls through her. Tom said he’d managed to drop that detail in casually during his interview, but Webster has obviously fixated on it. As much as Emma wants to enlighten her, tell her that theydidn’tactually meet, she knows she has to resist the temptation to explain.
“Why don’t I have Mr. Dunne call you and clarify everything? And if you don’t mind, I really need to lock up now and get back to the house.”
The detective allows the words to hang in the air for a couple of moments, then finally nods, keeping her dark eyes fastened on Emma’s. “As you wish.”
Webster pivots slowly and retraces her steps along the path, her head swiveling like she’s a prospective buyer taking in the grounds with her eyes. Finally, nearing the house, she steps off the path, veers left, and crosses the side lawn in long strides toward the street, where she’s obviously parked her car.
Once Webster’s out of sight, Emma gathers her things again, locks up, and returns to the house, her heart still thrumming. The police must be digging around the edges of the theory that she and Tom actually met in Miami and hit it off. And it must mean that Webster will be looking into the client weekend in Stowe, if she hasn’t already.
As soon as she’s dumped her bag on the counter, Emma calls Dunne, and to her relief, he answers the phone himself. She blurts out what transpired just now.
“I’m going to have another chat with Detective Webster,”he says after she’s finished. “But unfortunately, this Miami detail definitely seems to have piqued her interest.”
“I’m sure Tom never would have used the phrase ‘crossed paths’ because it implies we spoke or even made eye contact and we didn’t. So why would she say that?”
“To goad you into responding. To trick you into giving something away that you don’t want her to know,” he says, then pauses briefly. “Emma, I think it’s important that the two of us talk in person. Would you be able to come into Manhattan and meet me in my office tomorrow?”
Her anxiety spikes even higher. Is he thinking that the police have tapped her phone?
“Uh, of course, but why in person?”
“I feel this is the kind of conversation that’s best had face-to-face. Let me see... is eleven o’clock possible for you?”
She tells him yes without hesitating since she knows tomorrow is a light day for her—but even if it wasn’t, this is feeling scarily urgent. After signing off, Emma pours herself a glass of white wine and sinks into one of the bar chairs at the island.
For the first time she’s aware that what she’s experiencing is no longer simply the worry or agitation that have dogged her since Webster first rang her doorbell. Instead, it’s a low-grade terror, not unlike the kind she lived with when the police were eying her as a possible suspect twenty-seven months ago. Now they’re not only circlingher, but they’re doing the same with Tom. And maybe they have good reason to be looking into him.
