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Drawing a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, she flipped on the outside light and opened the door a crack, blocking entry to her house with her body. No more playing nice with the police. She had Chloe to consider, and she didn’t trust this detective or any of the police, for that matter. They were trying to force the facts to fit the s
upposed crime rather than the other way around.
“Yes?” Elizabeth said, schooling her expression though her pulse was pounding in her ears.
“You don’t want me to come in.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“My daughter’s asleep. I want to keep her that way. Whatever you have to say, just say it.”
“I talked with Officer Maya. You saw her at the restaurant accident this evening.”
Elizabeth hung onto the edge of the door with a death grip. “That’s what this is about?” she asked, hearing how squeaky her voice sounded. She’d suspected that it was. The people in the restaurant were bound to give her away and Officer Maya had recognized her. “Not the polygraph test?”
“No. Officer Maya interviewed a couple who say you saved their son and them from injury, maybe death, by your quick response.”
“I just saw the car coming, that’s all.” She had to bite her tongue not to say more, some kind of explanation that would just backfire and incriminate her.
“Before anyone else saw it.”
“I guess so.”
“Before the car was in sight, according to a dozen eyewitnesses.”
“I’ve heard eyewitnesses are the worst at recall.” Elizabeth could feel hysterical laughter bubbling up and held it back with an effort.
“Sometimes they’re incredibly accurate.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. . . .”
“Why don’t you start with the truth? You know something about all of this. I don’t know what it could be, but I’ve been around a long time, and I know when people are lying or covering up, and I think you’re doing a little bit of both.”
“I just saw the car coming. I heard it.”
The detective stared at her. “What happened to your husband?” she asked, changing direction.
“I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t on that freeway. . . .”
“You know something. Something you’re not saying.”
“No.”
“Yes. Tell me what you know,” the detective suddenly urged. “Get it off your chest.”
“You wouldn’t believe me,” Elizabeth said on a half laugh. “You wouldn’t.” She could feel herself cracking apart, wanting to confess, needing to let it all out.
“Try me.”
“I can’t.”
“Just say it.”
“I wished them dead, okay? All of them. Court . . . and Mazie . . . and even that officer that gave me the speeding ticket. Daniels. I was angry at all of them, and I wished them dead. And now they’re gone. They are dead.”
Thronson was staring at her, her expression unreadable.
“And that’s not all,” Elizabeth whispered, her legs feeling like jelly. “GoodGuy. He cut me off in traffic and flipped me off and it infuriated me and . . . and I . . . wanted to kill him. Just drive him off the road.”
“Good guy?” the detective asked carefully.
