As I spoke, a gray sedan pulled up in front of the house. Two well-dressed people, a dark-skinned man with close-cut hair wearing a sharp navy suit and a redheaded, freckled woman in a forest-green pantsuit, exited the vehicle. I expected them to go to another residence, but they started walking toward my house, the woman’s heels clicking on the poured concrete. “Someone is coming up my driveway.”
“Who?” Nasser asked. “Do you recognize them?”
“No. It’s two people. A man and a woman. Both are nicely dressed.” I tracked them until they reached my front doorstep. “Maybe they’re doing a security clearance on one of the neighbors.”
It wasn’t unusual for the feds to show up inquiring about some neighbor seeking a government security clearance. It had happened a couple of times since we’d lived in this house, and once back when we were in the townhome. The doorbell rang.
“They’re at the door. I have to go.”
“Keep the line open until you know for sure who they are,” Nasser told me. “Don’t hang up.”
“OK.” Phone in hand, I went to the door.Binti, roused from her sun-drenched nap, raced down the stairs to yell at the newcomers.
“Calm down, girl.” I petted her gently. “It’s OK.” Grabbing hold of her collar, I opened the door.
The gentleman spoke first. “Good afternoon. Mrs. Abadi?”
“Yes?”
He smiled, revealing a dimple. Close up I could see just a sprinkling of gray in his cropped dark hair. He looked to be in his forties.Bintibarked, and the man’s smile vanished. “Does he bite?”
“It depends on who you are,” I answered. “Who are you?”
“I’m Detective Isiah Lloyd, and this is Detective Sadie Fox.”
The floor wobbled beneath my feet, and I forgot about Nasser on the phone and holdingBinti’s collar. Having law enforcement show up at my door would always recall the worst night of my life.
“May we come in?” the woman asked while keeping one eye onBinti, who stood next to me, tail on alert. The woman detective was about the same age as her colleague and wore a serious, no-nonsense expression.
“What is this about? Is it one of the kids?”
“No, nothing like that,” Detective Lloyd reassured me with another dimpled smile.
“We’re here about your husband,” Detective Fox informed me. Her attention went toBinti. “Maybe you could put the dog away?”
“Can I see your ID?” I made a show of examining the silver-and-navy shields with the county police logo stamped on them. “You said you’re here about my husband? He’s deceased.”
“Yes, we know,” she said. “There’s been a development that we’d like to speak with you about.”
“What kind of development?” It had been months since the accident.
“We think it would be better if you sit while we have this discussion,” the female detective said.
I opened the door wider to let them in. We sat in the formal living room that we almost never used. I set my phone aside.Bintisettled near my feet. “She doesn’t bite,” I assured them. “What’s going on?”
The woman brushed a bang off her eye. Her short, manicured nails were painted fiery red. She wore gold ring stacks on three of her fingers. “Whenever there is a serious car accident,” she began, “it is standard to take blood from the deceased and send it to a lab for testing.”
“OK.” I waited for her to get to the point. “And?”
“Your husband’s results were delayed for a bit. And when they did come in, they were, unfortunately, misplaced,” she said. “The original officer on your husband’s case retired, so the report was mislaid for a little while.”
“When there is no reason to suspect foul play,” the male detective added, “there isn’t a big rush on the tox screen.”
“The what?”
“Toxicology report.” Fox, the woman detective, answered for him. “The results of the blood tests.”
I remembered then that the police who visited shortly after Ali died mentioned running a blood test. “What were the results?”
