I end up back in the bedroom. I finish my coffee and go through her wardrobe. I choose the brightest dress she owns, a green dress that sits just above my knees, then search through the drawers for a pair of tights. In the top three rows, I find underwear, socks, pajamas, tops, and shorts. In the bottom drawer, I find what I need.
A voice outside. Bradley must be home.
I pull out the black tights, but they’re caught on something. I reach inside and prick my hand on something sharp. It’s a knife. I find the handle and pull it out, then drop it in horror.
It’smyknife. The knife I inherited from Mom. The knife I dropped off the edge of the bridge. What’s it doing in Grace’s drawers?
A knock at the door. Loud. Not Bradley then.
It must be Jesse. He can wait.
I look closer at the knife. The blade is streaked with red. I remember the struggle on the bridge. I cut her shoulder, didn’t I? This is Grace’s blood.
A voice calls out from the front door. I can’t deal with that right now. I need to think of what to do with the knife. Bradley put it there, but why? And how? I dropped it off the bridge into the river—I’m sure I did. I take it into the hallway and pause. It’squiet outside. Jesse must have given up. I carry it downstairs, deciding to walk to the river and get rid of it.
As I enter the living room, I see I was wrong. There’s another knock at the door, followed quickly by the assertive voice of Detective Gelman.
“Brie, it’s the police. We know you’re home. Open up.”
I look at the knife in my hand. If Gelman walks to the side and peers through the window, she’ll see me holding it.
“One second!” I call out, then go to the bookshelf and place it among Grace’s serial killer mementoes. As I open the door, I let out a fake yawn, as if she’d just woken me up. “Detective, I’m so sorry. I was asleep.”
“Brie MacKenzie, we have a warrant to search the premises.” She shoves a document into my hands. “As part of the investigation into the death of Grace Little.”
She’s not alone. Behind her are three police officers with gloves.
“What are you talking about? She committed suicide.”
“Let us in, please, ma’am.”
I stand in the doorway, stunned, until one of the officers pushes past with a gruff “excuse me.”
I need to contact Bradley, but he’s not answering his phone.
I have a brainwave.
“Can I get some stuff? So I’m not in your way?”
“Sure. But I have to come with you.”
I go back upstairs, ignoring Gelman trailing behind me, and enter Bradley’s office. I open the third drawer in his desk and take out his computer.
“Can I take this?”
“The warrant doesn’t cover electronics. Just let me take a photo.”
I pack the computer into my pack and then go back downstairs.
“How long will you be?” I ask.
Gelman is still following me closely, watching every move. “A few hours.”
“OK, thanks. My car’s parked up the driveway. See you in a bit.”
I feel her eyes on me as I cross the front lawn and go up the driveway. When I get to my car, I pop the hood and sigh with relief. Bradley installed the battery, as he promised. When I turn on the engine, I see that the gas I poured in weeks ago is enough to take me past empty.
I drive for a few miles before pulling over to take out the computer. My hands are unsteady, and it takes a while to type in his password.
