Page 45 of Dying to Meet You
As if.
I take my seat again. “Sorry. What were we talking about?”
Riley gives me alook. “Tim shared his location with you. That means you could have known exactly where he was on the night when he was killed. If you just give us your phone data, we can clear this right up.”
“That won’t clearanythingup. Neither me nor my phone knows who killed him.”
“We could just get a warrant,” Fry says. “But that makes you look...”
“Like someone who values her privacy,” I say through gritted teeth. “Get a warrant if you want to waste your time. And if you don’t have any more reasonable questions, then we’re done here.”
They exchange glances while I try not to hyperventilate.
“Just a couple more pictures to show you,” Riley says. “Are any of these items yours? His family doesn’t recognize them.”
Fear has gripped me from the inside out. I’m desperate for them to leave, but I sure can’t show it. Trying to regulate my breathing, I lean on the desk and look down at Riley’s iPad.
There’s a photo of a single pearl earring, with no backing. “Nope. That won’t be mine. I have pearl earrings, but I haven’t worn them in ages.” They make me feel old.
“One more,” she says quietly, flipping to another picture.
And it’s a struggle not to gasp when she shows me a silver medallion. Itcan’tbe. I lean in close to see the detail, using my fingers to zoom in. Steel bands tighten around my chest as I stare down at the familiar figure sculpted against an oval background.
“It’s a saint,” Riley says, misinterpreting my silence. “We’re not sure which one. It was in the glove box. Do you recognize it?”
I shake my head. I don’t trust my voice right now, and my mind barely registers that I’m lying to the cops for the second time.
But I’m too afraid to say it out loud.
15
I’m reeling. And it’s hard for me to focus on the rest of Detective Riley’s questions. I’m about to ask her to repeat herself when my phone buzzes with a text.
“One moment.” I glance at the screen and find a message from a contractor who needs to meet with me about the HVAC system.
Stalling, I craft a reply to him, and it calms me down a little. After hitting send, I meet Detective Riley’s gaze. “Excuse me. Duty calls.”
“Of course,” she says in a soothing voice.
It’s not lost on me how much her demeanor changed when I pushed back on her demands. She knows she can’t push me too far, or I’ll just stop talking to her altogether.
“I know this is all very upsetting,” she says placidly. “We’ll go now. But please understand that we need to gather every speck of information about Tim’s last days.Somebodyknows what really happened. We need to find that person.”
“Of course you do,” I manage. “But I’m as baffled as anyone.”
Detective Fry gets to his feet. “We really appreciate you taking the time to speak to us. If you think of anything at all that could be helpful, you’ll call?”
“Right. I have your card.”
“You’ve been helpful, too, Miss Chambers,” Riley says to Beatrice.
“I can’t see how,” Beatrice says tightly. “I’ll show you out.” She crosses to the office door and holds it open. It’s not subtle. I kind of love her for it.
But the cops are unhurried as they file past her, and I can almost see Beatrice fighting the urge to shove them through the corridor.
Trying not to look ruffled, I trail them into the foyer. Fry stops to glance around, his shrewd gaze sweeping over the crystal chandelier andfollowing the curve of the staircase upward toward the gallery. “Wild to think that this was someone’s home.”
Riley nods in agreement. “It’s a magnificent building.”
