He nods, staring down at his hands. “I wouldn’t answer any more questions they ask you, if I were you.”
My eyes close, and my heart beats harder in my chest. When my eyes open, he’s watching me. I hate that my voice isn’t stronger when I say, “I won’t.”
Nodding again, he asks, “Did your husband have an attorney?”
“Yes. But he’s never practiced criminal law. I don’t think it’d be wise for him to represent me, even in the interim until I find one.”
The small smile he gives is nice to see. “Can’t say I blame you, considering.” He glances around again before looking back at me. “I don’t usually work homicides.”
Unsure why he’s telling me that piece of information, all I can do is stare back at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
His eyes narrow slightly. “I work on…other types of crime.”
Still not following, I draw out, “Okaaay…why are you here then?”
He licks his lips. “I was familiar with your husband.”
I drop my gaze and run my hand up and down my blanket-covered thigh. “I’m not surprised by that. But I don’t know much about that part of his life.” I once again gesture to my face. “We weren’t exactly partners in that way.”
“I believe that.”
My face scrunches as all the emotions I’ve been keeping at bay, for long before tonight, come bubbling to the surface. Normally, I keep any emotions like this shoved deep inside. I bury sadness or loneliness and pretend like there’s no way those could exist for me. I’ve built my life around presenting one persona to the outside world, and that persona would never include what I perceive as a weakness.
The man reaches forward, grabs the tissue box off the coffee table, and holds it out to me. I take one as I cry quietly into it. He stays silent and allows me a moment to let it out.
When I’ve calmed, he stands. He looks like he wants to say something else, but changes his mind. Approaching footsteps draw our attention to the returning detectives.
The younger one nods to whom I’ve been talking to. “Martinez, appreciate the assistance.”
Martinez nods and moves away, but he doesn’t leave theroom. I’m grateful he doesn’t leave me alone with the others, not that I expect him to help me in any way.
“Mrs. Bennett, we’d like to take you down to the station so we can ask some more questions.”
Reminding myself of all I’ve been through in the last fourteen years of my life, I inhale a steely resolve. I’ve dealt with so much. Have probably forgotten or blocked out more than my mind allows me to remember out of self-preservation.
“Am I being arrested?”
The shared looks return before the older one responds. “We just have some questions we need answered while they finish the search of the house.”
Flipping the blanket off me, I stand, burying the panic swirling inside me. “Let me get my shoes and purse.”
As I take a step forward, he holds out a hand to stop me. “Where are they?”
I point toward the front door. “I have some shoes in the hall closet, and I think my purse is on the entry table.”
He nods, and they both follow me. When I go to grab my purse, I’m stopped again.
“I just need to search your purse before we leave.”
With a wave of my hand, I signal my agreement. Once they confirm I’m not concealing evidence or bringing a weapon, they hand it to me. I grab my sandals and slide my feet into them. “Okay, I’m ready.”
A fist grips my bicep and guides me outside. When the cool spring air bites into me, despite the bright sun shining above, I’m glad I pulled on a sweatshirt over my yoga pants and T-shirt this morning. The grip doesn’t loosen until we get to the marked SUV, and the back door is opened for me. My stomach dips as I climb inside and the door is slammed.
Through the window, my eyes lock with a dark pair staring at me from my front porch. I can’t tell for sure, but Martinez seems to give me an imperceptible nod right before he turns and walks back into my house.
I keep my gaze locked on the landscape just outside the window as the vehicle starts rolling down my long driveway, staring out at the large expanse of perfectly manicured grass and landscaping.
Blake bought this house twelve years ago, which was about a year into our marriage. He never asked me if I wanted to move from Seattle to Nashville. He never asked me what I wanted in a home. I had never even been to Nashville before. He just came home one day, told me he was moving his company to Nashville and that I needed to get everything set up to be moved in two weeks.
