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“As I said, you’re free to go at any time. But I would appreciate your staying here. And, like I mentioned, I’d prefer a little time to check out some of the details of your story. Once I have those, we can make a better determination of what more I may or may not need from you. Okay?”
“I guess.” Even though she said I had a choice, I didn’t really feel like I did.
She stood. “It’s been a long time. Are you hungry? I can get you a sandwich. Coffee? A Coke?”
“I’m okay.”
She peered at me. “No, you’re not. I’m going to have someone bring you some food. Eat it or not. But at least I’ve done my duty.” She smiled. “In my other life, believe it or not, I’m a mom and half Italian. It’s important to me that people eat.”
“Okay.”
She left me alone with far too many thoughts and worries, the biggest one being not would I get out of here today, but would something prevent me from leaving for a very, very long time?
And who would take care of Vito?
In spite of my refusal, I looked forward to that sandwich and drink. Not because I was hungry, but because eating and drinking would be something to do to stave off the tsunami of grief over Marc I knew was out there—and biding its time.
III
I began to wonder if Detective Cawood would ever return. And with good reason, she’d been gone now almost as long as she’d interviewed me. I was certain it was beginning to get dark outside. I felt like I’d entered some alternate universe.
She breezed into the room as though she’d been gone a mere few minutes, rather than a few hours. My back ached. My worry had peaked, and I was certain my freedom in this world was about to be severely curtailed. After all, why wouldn’t she arrest me? I placed myself at the scene of the crime. That I had motive—a spurned love—could be effectively argued. I had no one, really, to come to my defense.
I eyed the handcuffs dangling from her waist and wondered how they’d feel around my wrists.
I wanted to ask why she was smiling, but I didn’t dare. I was afraid the answer would be, “You have the right to remain silent…”
But she didn’t read me my Miranda Rights off a card. No, she sat across from me, hands folded, with that idiotic grin on her face. If I didn’t think it would go even worse for me, I would have slapped the expression right off her smug face.
But when she spoke, what she said shocked me to the core.
“So?” That was about all I could make myself say.
“I checked everything out as best I could. And it looks, Mr. Blake, as though everything you told me was the truth. Thank you for that.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
“But that’s not the best part.”
I slid down a bit in my seat.Just get it over with. “What’s the best part?” I asked with absolutely no enthusiasm. I couldn’t image what could bebestabout this whole situation. There may have been abestfor her, but I was sure there wasn’t one for me.
“Well, Mr. Blake, first off—you, sir, are free to go. You can take care of that dog of yours.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I never kid.” She frowned.
I believed her.
“What’s second?” I was dying to know. What had she discovered during her time away that had caused her to come back with words of liberation for me?
“Jeb Kleber. That’s what’s second.”
I cocked my head. The room spun a little. I felt dizzy and nauseated.Isn’t Jeb dead? Did they find him now?“What do you mean?”
“It’s weird. While I was tracking down the details of your story, someone came into the station. Without going into a lot of details, because I’m unable to at this point, it was Jeb Kleber. We’ve verified it.”
“I thought he was dead.”
