Zach’s jaw tightened. “I needed to clear my head. Finding a freshly murdered friend isn’t something you shrug off.”
The detectives studied him, no empathy in their eyes.
“You often have a lot of scratches on you.”
“I work with tools, and they tend to bite.”
“Tools can also cut throats,” Hale said.
A muscle ticked in Zach’s jaw. “So can secrets.”
Hale tilted her head. “Are you building anything right now, Zach?”
He stared right back. “I’m making a list in my head.”
“Of what?” Vega asked.
“Of who to trust.”
“Is it a long list?” Hale asked.
“It gets shorter by the day.”
Mary was the last to enter for the first round of interviews. The room seemed to sharpen around her. She didn’t sit like a suspect. She sat like someone with opinions.
“You’ve experienced a lot of loss,” Hale said, trying to show sympathy. She failed.
Mary smiled thinly. “Many people experience loss.”
“We’ve been told you and Candy were close,” Vega said.
Mary’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you practice that tone in your bathroom? Make sure you sound empathetic?”
Hale’s eyes didn’t change. “Grief doesn’t make you special, Mary. It makes you louder.” She leaned back, momentarily speechless at being called out.
Vega continued. “We’re trying to help all of you on this island, so I’d appreciate some cooperation.”
“You’re trying to close a case and be heroes. If that means taking in a fall-guy, you’ll gladly do it.”
“Were you with anyone the night Candy disappeared?”
“I was with everyone and no one, just how I am every day of my life.”
“It’s been reported that you often talk about justice,” Vega said.
“People say a lot when they’re afraid.”
Hale slid a photo across the table.
You Made Me.
The caption’s jagged edges looked cut from a magazine, the same as Harmony’s notes.
“Is this yours?” Hale asked.
Mary didn’t flinch. “It was writtentome. That doesn’t make it mine.”
“What does it mean?” Vega asked.
