I slowly lower myself back onto the hard, unforgiving chair and clasp my hands in my lap, waiting to hear what they’re going to say.
Barrington unlocks his phone, swiping quickly before he sets it on the table and turns it in my direction. An involuntary whimper leaves my throat when an image ofmy deceased husband fills the screen, a sheet covering him from the waist down, and his torso an abnormal color.
He swipes to the next one, which appears to be a close-up photo of a stab wound.
“The autopsy isn’t complete, but the coroner feels pretty confident that it is what killed your husband.”
I swallow hard but stay silent.
Barrington goes on. “Blunt force trauma to the head. Looks like he took a couple pretty good wacks to his head with something heavy.”
A single tear trails down my cheek. My husband became an uncaring, abusive asshole, but at one point, I did love him.
“He also had some scratch marks and small bruises on him that looked to be fresh.”
I nod, and not being able to stay silent any longer, I whisper, “Those are from me. I tried to fight back.”
Instantly regretting my words as I realize how it sounds, my stomach churns.
When Barrington speaks next, I know I’ve fucked up. “As you should, Lily. No woman deserves to be hit.”
I eye him cautiously, not trusting that he really understands or cares about the circumstances of my marriage.
His voice is low and condescending when he asks, “And you fought back for good, didn’t you?”
My eyes widen, and I suck in a breath. “I’ve told you I was calling an attorney. I refuse to answer any of your questions. And you continuing to ask me these questions with your fake sympathy, you are violating my constitutional rights.”
My eyes cut over to Martinez, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was hiding a smirk behind his hand. Ilook back at Barrington, and he’s holding up his hands in defense.
“No one’s violating anyone’s constitutional rights around here. It had just been a while, and since no one showed up, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to waive that so we could get you home.”
Placing my hands flat on the table to steady myself, I steel my gaze. “Detective Barrington, I know what you may think of me, but I know my rights, and you do not get to try to trick me into answering your questions. I would take my chances on a public defender with absolutely no experience before I trusted you toget me home.So, if you would be so kind as to leave me alone while I wait for my attorney.”
The satisfaction that fills me when Barrington’s jaw drops a little in shock has me almost forgetting why I’m locked in this room to begin with. Martinez lets out a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh before Barrington shoots to his feet.
“Fine, have it your way. If your attorney isn’t here within the hour, I’m taking you to the holding cell.”
I don’t have a good rebuttal for that, so I don’t say anything as the two men walk out the door and leave me alone for the second time.
What’s almost fifty-nine minutes later, the door opens, and a tall, older man with thick, silver white hair steps into the room.
“Lily Bennett, I presume.”
I nod and stand.
He waves me back into my seat, and I slowly lower back down. When he’s seated across from me, he holds out his hand, and I take it, hating how clammy it feels in mine. He frowns at me before saying, “My name is William Fuller. I was told you need a defense attorney for murder?”
Nodding again, I explain, “Yes, I do. I only answered a few of their questions, but once they brought me down here, I said I wouldn’t say anymore without an attorney present.”
“And who do they think you murdered?”
I take a deep breath. “My husband.”
William points to my face. “That happen often?”
Squaring my shoulders, I answer, “I guess it depends on your definition of often. He’s hit me before, and this isn’t the worst he’s ever done to me.”
His frown deepens. “Huh.” He studies me for a breath before continuing. “That’s going to make it harder to defend you.”
