“What do you mean?” My hands twist in my lap. When I look up, Gary is watching me with interest.
Simmons enters carrying a plastic bag, which she hands to Gary.
Gary turns back to me. “You accused Matthew DuPont of killing your sister,” he says, keeping the bag out of my line of sight. “Correct me if I’m wrong…but it seems you had every motive to want him gone.”
I try to swallow the knot that’s lodged in my throat.It’s true.
Gary holds up the evidence bag so I can see it: my old phone. “We found your cellphone at his house and your footprints at the scene of the crime.”
At the scene of the crime?My heart stops, then flutters rapidly.But how—
“Ms. Banks, were you involved in the murder of Matthew DuPont?”
My heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my temples. “No!” I insist. “I lost my phone the night he attacked me. I thought I’d dropped it on the tracks, but maybe he took it off me instead. But—” I force myself to take a breath. “Okay, yes, I was at the edge of the property last night…After the noise woke me up, I went and looked around.”
“You looked around?” Gary repeats, writing this down.
“And I didn’t see anything.”Except Lila Jones’s ghost.I silence the thought.Focus.“So I went back to bed.” I nod, hard, trying to convince myself as much as him. But it’s impossible to push away the memories as they flood in: running past branches, Lila, the blood, so much blood. I clasp my hands tightly in my lap.
“Let me get this straight.” Gary leans forward. “You were in the woods around the time Matthew DuPont was murdered, in theexact locationwhere we found the body…and you didn’t see anything?”
“Right.” I swallow. “It was dark. And I’d taken a sleeping pill and had been drinking, so I was pretty out of it.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret it.
“I see.” Gary looks at Simmons, then back at me. “Ms. Banks, let me lay some things out for you. For months, you’ve been trying to get the police to look into Matthew DuPont regarding your sister’s death, to the point where he felt compelled to lodge complaints. And there’s CCTV footage of you following Sara Vail from Union Square up Park Avenue. Chasing her into the 28th Street station, trying to grab her and stop her from getting on a train. All after calling her repeatedly, and getting her location out of her assistant. Your husband then got into an altercation with Mr. DuPont last night, in full view of scores of witnesses. And now we’ve discovered that you’vebeen lying to us about your whereabouts last night. You must see how this looks.”Shit shit shit.
“No.” I shake my head, slowly. “That makes it sound worse than it was.”
“And,” Gary says, a strange expression guarding his face, “your husband was recorded leaving the property last night. Does he drive a blue Ford Explorer?”
My stomach drops. Gary goes on. “A neighbor saw a suspicious-looking man in a hoodie parked on Bedford Road near the location where Mr. DuPont’s body was found. They called the police.”So my husband, simply because he’s a Black man in a hoodie sitting in his car, warranted a call to the police?
“You have to admit, Ms. Banks, this doesn’t look good for either of you.”
Despite feeling like I might pass out, I manage one last sentence: “I want to speak to a lawyer.”
Detective Gary snaps his notepad closed. “Be my guest.”
—
I call Daisyfrom the pool house. it rings and rings. I know she’s gone to find Marta, but I hoped I’d catch her in time.
Please, Daisy…please pick up…I need to talk to someone about Nate. If he killed Matthew…I don’t know what I’ll do.
Daisy finally answers. “Maya? What’s wrong? Sorry, I was driving. I just got to Marta’s.”
A wave of relief at the sound of her voice. “About last night…”
A long pause. “What about it?”
I take a shaky breath, trying to stay calm. Remind myself: I don’t know if he did it. I don’t know anything. I lower my voice. “I woke up around fivea.m.and Nate wasn’t there.”
“What do you mean,wasn’t there?”
“He wasn’t in bed.”
“Then where was he?” she asks, and when I don’t answer, her tone slows as she understands. “What…Maya, what do you think he was doing?” Her voice is shaking.
I swallow the knot in my throat as images flash: Nate with a knife, Matthew covered in blood. I knew it wasn’t a dream.
