Page 95 of Happy Wife

“Oh, we know that you weren’t honest about that call. It was never Mia.”

He’s going to turn that call around on me?

“I wasn’tdishonestabout the call,” I say. “And I told you there were things to look into and you basically patted me on the head. So, about the call, Will told me it was Mia. If it wasn’t her, who the hell was it?”

My heart is racing. I’ve been waiting a long time to hear the answer to this question, and Ardell looks over the folder in front of him like the answer is right there. I sit forward in my chair—waiting for him to say something.

He clears his throat. “Well—”

There’s a knock on the door, and he gets up.

Fritz comes barging in. “Come on, Nora.”

Behind him, I can see Este standing in the hallway, looking ready for a rumble if the situation calls for it.

I put up a hand to stop Fritz. “Just a second.”

“Nora, stop talking. You’re going home.” Fritz has me on my feet and heading for the door, pulling hard on my elbow.

“Fuckingow! I want to hear this,” I protest. “Ardell, who called?” I have to get this answer before Fritz inserts himself.

Ardell tries to get between Fritz and the door. “Fritz, I’ve got to talk to her—”

Fritz snaps a look in Ardell’s direction. “Have you charged her with something?”

Ardell shakes his head, practically cowering.

Bad dog.

“We’ll be going now.”

Fritz stands next to me and then escorts me down the hallway with Este in tow. “I really hope you didn’t say much. You should have asked for a lawyer.”

I shake my arm loose from Fritz. “I didn’t think I needed one, Fritz. I didn’tdoanything. And Ardell has information that might be helpful—”

“I fucking hope so. He’s leading a murder investigation. You are not a detective. You are a housewife. Go to your house.” His nostrils are flaring. “Este, take her home. The press is here, so I want to keep your face as hidden as possible, and don’t let them get a good shot of you. I will talk to Travis.”

I don’t budge for a minute. I’m tired of being bossed aroundby Fritz Hall. He takes a step toward me and lowers his voice, “Nora, go the fuck home and stop talking to people without me.”

I fold my arms and give him a mutinous glare.

“What’s your plan here, Nora?” His voice is at the edge of taunting. “You want to cause a scene in the middle of the police station? You think that’s going to help your case?”

Este steps between us and pulls me away. “Come on,” she encourages in a gentle voice.

I go, because deep down, in the part of my rational mind that hates to admit Fritz is right, I know I can’t get him to budge, and it would be a mistake to try to argue in such a public place.

Este offers me a sunhat, which I pull on and sling low over my face as I walk out the door without another word to Fritz.

—

We have to crawl through the crush of reporters, who are now desperate to get a shot of me. I’m curled up in a ball, back to the window, hat obscuring my face. Este expertly parks her car at an angle, so I can slide out directly into the garage, shielded from the press.

Este really does think of everything.

She gets out of the car, flipping off the reporters as she slips into the dark garage, and promptly closes the garage door.

I walk to the kitchen, hating the feeling that lingers in the air. The house looks almost normal—almost. But little things here and there are just out of place, moved or picked up by the officers sent to search the house. It feels like someone has just broken in, like someone is watching me.

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