I don’t mention that I don’t have a lawyer. Something tells me that problem just solved itself.
The ride to the police station passes in tense silence. I stare out the window at Las Vegas rushing by and try not to think about Austin waking up without me there.
A man in an expensive suit is waiting when we arrive. He approaches immediately, extending his hand.
“Ms. Walker? I’m Mr. King. Mr. DeLuca sent me.” His grip is firm, reassuring. “Don’t say anything beyond basic responses to direct questions. I’ll handle the rest.”
The interrogation room looks like every cop show I’ve ever seen. Two-way mirror. Metal table. Uncomfortable chairs designed to make you want to confess just to escape them.
The wait stretches endlessly. Minutes crawl by like hours, each one taking me further from where I need to be. How long has Austin been in surgery? Is he okay? My leg bounces under the table until Mr. King gives me a look that saysstay calm.
When the detectives finally return, Detective Greene settles across from me with predatory satisfaction. His partner lurks in the corner, staring at me like he’s trying to read my thoughts.
“When did you last see your ex-husband, Ms. Walker?”
I pretend to consider the question, even though that night is burned into my memory with perfect clarity. Every detail. Every word. Every moment.
“A few months after our divorce. I can’t remember exactly when.”
“You’re aware we discovered his body buried on property you owned together during your marriage?”
“I saw it on the news, yes.”
Detective Greene leans forward, his smile sharp enough to cut. “I want to be up front with you, Ms. Walker. You’re a suspect in this investigation.”
I stare at him, genuinely shocked. “Based on what evidence?”
“We spoke with a neighbor who heard Eric arguing with a woman the night he disappeared. This neighbor also remembers seeing a car that matches one registered to you seven years ago.”
“Plenty of people drive old Toyotas,” I say. “You can’t prove it was mine.”
“My client makes a valid point,” Mr. King adds.
Detective Greene’s smile turns sharp. “The neighbor remembers because she was concerned about Ms. Walker. Tell me, why would your neighbor worry about seeing you at your ex-husband’s house?”
Sweat prickles across my forehead. This can’t be happening. Even dead, Eric is still finding ways to cause me problems.
“I think your client killed her ex-husband in revenge for years of abuse.”
The room feels like it's shrinking around me as I struggle to draw a full breath.
The accusation hangs in the air between us, ugly and raw. They think they know what happened that night, but they don’t understand anything.
I didn’t go there with a plan. There was no revenge plot.
When I killed the son of a bitch, it was a complete surprise to us both.
38
ALESSIO
The hospital coffeetastes like shit, but I drink it anyway.
Anything to keep my hands busy while my son’s heart gets carved open and my woman sits in some interrogation room getting grilled by cops for God knows what.
Funny thing about hospitals—they’re supposed to be places of healing, but all I can think about is death. Joey’s death. Austin’s potential death if this surgery goes wrong. The death I’m going to rain down on whoever’s responsible for putting my family in danger.
“You’re wearing a hole in the floor,” Keshia says from her chair by the window. She’s been watching me pace for the last twenty minutes, probably wondering if I’m going to lose my shit completely.
