Page 25 of Liar's Point

“I called 911.”

“Right away?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t open the door or try to render aid or—”

“I’ve been over this already,” Cassandra said. “I saw her in there and I called 911.”

The detective glanced at Cassandra’s hands, and she realized she was gripping the counter. Cassandra let go and folded her arms over her chest.

“I saw her in there. I realized she was dead. I called for help,” Cassandra said. “I don’t understand what the issue is.”

“No issue, really. Just a discrepancy.”

“A what?”

“Well, the call came in at six twenty-eight. So there seems to be a discrepancy.” The detective’s gaze met hers. “I’m just trying to pin down what time you saw the victim exactly.”

“Oh.” Cassandra thought back, but everything blurred together now. Mostly she recalled feeling like she couldn’t breathe, like she was trying to suck air through a straw. “Well, I suppose it could have been a bit later. Like I said, I wasn’t looking at a watch or anything.”

A buzzer sounded, and Cassandra jumped. She stepped over to the oven and stopped the timer. “Sorry. One sec.” She grabbed a dish towel off the counter and took out the pan.

“That should just about do it,” Lawson said. “I’ll let you get back to your dinner. Thanks for your time.”

“No problem.”

“Would you mind if I use your bathroom?”

“My bathroom?”

“I have another stop after this.”

“Sure.” Cassandra glanced down the hallway. “It’s just there on the left.”

“Thanks.”

The detective tucked her notebook into her pocket and headed down the hallway as Cassandra stood there holding her pizza.

When the bathroom door closed, she set the pan down and dug her phone from her purse. Sure enough, she’d missed a call twenty minutes ago while she’d been at the store.

Cassandra eyed the stack of mail on the counter. Then she took a plate down from the cabinet and washed her hands with the lavender soap that was supposed to be calming. Right. As if soap could cure her frayed nerves and the anxiety of having a police detective in her house.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and held it in for ten seconds. Then she blew it out and repeated the process. Her nerves began to settle.

But then she pictured Aubrey slumped across that seat, and her stress kicked in again.

“Nice dream catcher.”

She turned around, and Lawson was back again, standing on the other side of the counter now.

“What?”

“Your dream catcher.” She nodded at the window above the sink. “It looks like the one in Aubrey’s car.”

“Oh.” Cassandra dried her hands on a dish towel. “Yes. We sell them in the gift shop.”

“We?”

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