“And you went straight home and showered, waking your husband? Can he verify the time?”
My throat constricts at the wordhusband. Oh, Graham.
“Yes. But I didn’t head straight home.”
Flynn’s eyebrows shoot up in pricked attention.
“I—I went to the jogging trail near my house and ran for a few miles.” Even though I’m telling the truth, my face grows warm, and I feel as though I’m lying. It’s the same feeling of having a cop trail behind your car and you start to believe you’re doing something illegal.
I take a deep breath, steady myself.
“Why is this important?”
Flynn’s mouth turns into a sour line. “Another thing I need to let you know is this: The results of the autopsy came back, and the coroner is placing the time of death between the hours of midnight and four.”
This is so much worse than I could’ve imagined. So much worse. I feel like someone has knocked me across the chest with a bat and the wind is kicked out of me. The coffee burns my stomach, makes me sweat. What the fuck. But Iwaspassed out, and then I was on the trail, and then I was at home.
“That’s what I keep telling you!” My voice has turned sharp but I can’t help it. “Margot hasframedme. Don’t you see? She and Brad must have killed Abby after I passed out, knowing full well that I wouldn’t have an alibi. By the way, what’sheralibi?”
“Mrs. Banks was with Brad just after midnight at an all-night diner on the outskirts of town. They stayed there for a few hours, drinking beer and eating breakfast. Arguing some. We have an eyewitness to back it up. And after that, Margot was home with her husband.”
I stare into Flynn’s eyes. Any trace of camaraderie we had before has now vanished. He thinks I’m lying; he thinks I’m guilty.
“Look, Sophie,” he says with a puff of irritation, “you’re still hiding things from me. And this is getting old.”
Jamie. Now is the time to come clean about Jamie.
And I do. I tell him that we kissed, that we played spin the bottle, that I made a huge mistake and left at three a.m. to go home to my family. Flynn lets me know that Margot already told him about my fling with Jamie.
“You have to believe me. I’m being set up.” My voice is a strangled cry.
“I want to, I really do, but you lied to me.”
“Only because Margot asked me to. And threatened me. Not in actualwords but she implied she’d tell my husband about Jamie if I didn’t tell the police that she and I were together Friday night.”
This stops Flynn in his tracks for a second, but only for a second.
“Sophie, you’restillnot telling me everything.”
I guess he wants me to tell him that I shot Abby, but I didn’t.
“What do you mean?”
“From what I understand, you’re quite obsessed with Margot.” He flicks his eyes on mine. I feel my cheeks burn; I can’t hide my expression if I wanted to.
“Where did you get that from? Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Margot. It had to be. Unless my fixation is more apparent than I thought. But no, no one else would know except maybe Callie, who was clocking my every move.
Flynn’s voice snaps me out of my reverie. “Andyouwere the only one present at the scene. And it’s your prints on the weapon.”
I drop my gaze to my lap. This is so fucked up. I feel like I’m trapped in a giant ball of yarn and every time I try to escape I just get more tangled up.
“But—”
“So whatIthink happened is this: Maybe you thought you were doing something Margot would’ve wanted you to do.” His coffee cup is empty and he flips it upside down with a twist of his hand. He drums his fingers on the bottom of the overturned cup, waiting for my response.
