Page 25 of She Didn't See It Coming
“Lizzie, sit down,” Jayne says, and she obeys. Jayne and Kilgour sit as well. She leans in to speak to the family in a steady, solemn voice. “I’m so sorry. But I’m afraid we’ve found Bryden’s body.”
She watches their reactions. Disbelief, horror, shock, pain. She focuses her attention on Sam. Nothing in his reaction suggests that he either is or is not the one who killed her. No one says anything for a long moment. She waits for it to sink in, for them to absorb it. Donna gasps and begins to sob, covering her face with her hands. Jim puts his arms around her and hides his face from the rest of them. Lizzie has gone strangely mute. She doesn’t cry. Neither does Sam. But that means nothing, Jayne knows. People process grief in very different ways. They are all in shock.
Jayne sits silently, waiting for someone to speak.
It’s Lizzie who finally breaks the silence. “Where did you find her?”
Jayne says carefully, “The dog found her in a storage locker in the basement. She was inside a large suitcase, hidden behind some cardboard boxes. I’m so sorry.”
As the meaning of this becomes clear, Donna lets out an awful, blood-curdling shriek.
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Jayne watches the dead woman’s parents weeping in each other’s arms. Sam appears to be in shock, and Lizzie is silent, staring wide-eyed.
After a respectful interval, Jayne continues. “This has now become a homicide investigation. I promise you we will do everything we can to find out who harmed Bryden. You can help by cooperating with us.” She pauses. They all look back at her through their numbness and grief.
“Of course we’ll cooperate,” Sam says at last, his voice shaking. “We want to find out who did this.”
“Good,” Jayne replies. “First of all, we will need you to leave the apartment while the forensics team does a thorough investigation. And we will need all of you to be digitally fingerprinted, for elimination purposes. We can have that done now. Is there anyone else who visits the apartment, other than Paige and Angela? A cleaning lady? Anybody else?”
Sam shakes his head. “There’s no cleaning lady. Angela often brings her daughter.” He adds, “And her husband comes over sometimes too.”
Jayne nods. “We will have to get them fingerprinted as well, although I understand he’s away on business. They should be finished here by the morning, and you can return then.” She adds, “I suggest you find a hotel close by. It’s only for one night.”
Lizzie speaks up tonelessly. “I can arrange the hotel. We could get a suite,” she says to Sam, “with two rooms, and I can stay the night and help with Clara. We can’t expect Angela to keep her all night.” She adds, “I’ll take Mom and Dad back to my place.”
Jayne watches as Sam nods, as if in a trance. She says to him, “I know it’s getting late, and you must be exhausted, but we’d like to have you identify the body and bring you down to the station, now, Sam, and talk to you there. We’re hoping you can help us.” He looks even more shaken at the prospect of having to identify Bryden.
“I’ve been thinking and thinking,” Sam says brokenly, “but I don’t know anyone who would hurt Bryden. Unless it was some sicko who got into the building, or who already lives here.”
Jayne and Kilgour wait for Sam to pack an overnight bag while Lizzie packs one for Clara and goes to retrieve her from Angela’s. She will take Clara with her to drop her parents off at her own place. She says she will text Sam the hotel information.
Sam comes with them willingly enough. They’re badgered by reporters and photographers shouting questions and taking photos as they leave the condo building through the front doors on the way to their car on the street. The media knows they must have found something—they saw the K-9 unit van, and they will have seen the forensics van pass by and go into the underground garage. And now the husband is being taken away by the detectives for questioning. It will be all over the news soon enough. Jayne calls the head of the forensics team from the car and gives him the go-ahead to examine the apartment too.
First, they go to the nearby morgue, where Sam Frost identifies his wife’s body, breaking down in sobs when the sheet is lowered from her face. Then they take him to the station, entering through the back entrance. He appears shell-shocked. They escort him to an empty interview room and sit down across from him at the table.
“I hope you don’t mind, Sam, but we’d like to record this interview, if that’s all right with you,” Jayne says.
Sam looks startled. “Why?”
“It’s just standard procedure,” Jayne assures him. “You’re here voluntarily, and you can stop this interview at any time and leave if you wish, okay? Do you understand?”
He nods. “Yes.”
Jayne tries to put him at his ease, leading him through questions about how he met Bryden, how long they dated, when they got engaged and married. She asks him about Clara, how their lives changed when they became parents. He gradually seems to get over his shock and, though obviously shaken, answers all her questions willingly and straightforwardly. She doesn’t pick up on any problems between them. Certainly nothing Sam is admitting to. Now she must move into more difficult territory. “So, you and Bryden were faithful to each other? No affairs ever?”
“No, of course not. Neither of us was interested in that,” Sam says firmly.
“What about arguments about money?”
“No, I’ve told you. We’re comfortable. We have two good salaries, our student debt is paid off. We’re saving to buy a house, but money isn’t a source of stress.”
“Does either of you have life insurance?” Jayne asks.
“Of course we do. We have a child. We both have life insurance policies.”
Jayne nods. “I know this is very difficult,” she says, “but I’d like toshow you a photograph of the closed suitcase, if that’s all right with you?” He looks terrified at the idea, but then he nods reluctantly, rigid in his chair. She opens a file on the table in front of her and picks up a photograph of the suitcase. It’s a large, hard-sided, burgundy Samsonite, a common brand. She places the color photograph in front of him on the table. He looks down at it and blanches.
