A friend.
I shift in my seat, pray he doesn’t see me swallow the hard lump that has formed in my throat.
“What we’re trying to figure out is what could’ve happened to Abby after Brad dropped her off.”
He looks at me encouragingly, as if to imply I’m not under any suspicion.
“Our working theory is that someone followed Miss Wilson to her door that night. That someone was possibly stalking her. There’s no shortage of gun-crazy, deranged sickos around here, so we’re telling everyone to steer clear of not just the actual crime scene but also the Bankses’ lake house in general for now. So I have to advise you not to go out there for a while. Until it’s safe.”
I can feel Wanda’s gaze trained on my face, can feel her sour smile even though I refuse to glance in her direction.
“It’s also possible that Miss Wilson was murdered elsewhere, and that her body was later dumped on the Bankses’ land,” Flynn says, then clears his throat. “Sophie,” he says, switching from the more formal Mrs. O’Neill, “I’m not trying to scare you, but for all we know, you ladies were also in grave danger that night.”
I feel my eyes widen and I nod my head as if in agreement.
“And anything you can tell us about that night would really help. Did you notice anything at all out of the ordinary? While you guys were out on the land or once you were back inside the lake house? Anything suspicious? Cars that might’ve passed by? Unusual sounds?”
I shake my head, narrow my face into a mask of concern as if I’m deeply pondering something.
“No, nothing comes to mind. It was just a normal night. Except for the fact that Margot wasn’t feeling great, so we cut the night short. I mean, the others left just before nine, which is kind of early for us. But I stayed.”
“And why’s that?” Wanda asks.
“Margot asked me to,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Their attention seems to prick at this admission. “I mean, she wasn’t up for a full-on girls’ nightbut she wasn’t ready to call it a night, either. So I stuck around and we chatted and drank wine. Too much of it, obviously.”
A nervous giggle escapes my lips but then I immediately put my serious face back on.
“I can tell you for certain that I was awake until midnight. I remember that very clearly because I knew I should’ve been heading home.” I straighten up in the chair, fold my hands together in my lap.
“That’s good. That’s very good,” Flynn says. “And about what time did you finally leave?”
“Just before three a.m. I remember that clearly, too, because it wassolate and I knew my husband would be worried about me.”
“And was he?” Wanda asks, her mouth pressed into a smirk.
“He was actually asleep when I got home,” I say triumphantly.
“So he didn’t hear you come in?” she asks.
“Not when I first came in, but I took a shower almost immediately and that woke him up.”
Wanda nods, flips a page, and begins filling it with fresh notes.
“And just to confirm, everyone else left by nine, you say?” Flynn asks.
“I think around nine, yes.”
The image of Callie banging on the door, yanking me out of my middle-of-the-night blackout, flashes in my mind but I don’t offer up this bit of information. I feel like at this point it’s best to stick to Margot’s story.
“And Mrs. Banks”—Flynn looks up at me as he asks this—“was she passed out, too?”
I blow a stream of air out of my cheeks. Think about how I should answer. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Margot didn’t prep me on how to answer this question. Fuck.
“I’m not sure, to be honest,” I say, as if I’m being anythingcloseto honest.
“So it was just the two of you out there. No one else?” Flynn presses me.
No one else except for Brad. And Jamie, who later fingered me.
