Her gut stirred, sharp and uneasy. She knew those kinds of inconsistencies weren’t just forgettable quirks. They were cracks in a carefully built lie. And she’d learned, sometimes the hard way, to never ignore those cracks.
She narrowed her eyes slightly, gaze settling on the horizon, but her thoughts were miles ahead. If he was lying about never being here, what else was Anthony hiding? And why?
Livvy pressed her palm against her belly, grounding herself. Then she looked at Sunny again. “How did Zadie meet him, and how long were they together?”
“She met him about three months ago, when he came here to New Hope to write an article. He’s a blogger and does stories about unique businesses and buildings in Texas.” Sunny’s voice cracked, and she paused again. “Zadie and he started dating shortly thereafter, and they ended things about a week ago.”
“Why?” Livvy had to know.
Sunny shook her head. “Zadie refused to say, but he broke her heart—I could tell. So, he must have done something so despicable that she didn’t want to let me in on it. Maybe because she was too embarrassed or because she thought I’d go after him and make him pay for hurting my sister. Zadie doesn’t have a temper, but I do.”
Livvy could definitely see the anger, but at the moment, grief was winning the emotional battle. If Sunny had had anything to do with her sister’s death, she was certainly putting on an award-winning performance.
“Would Zadie have left here with Anthony last night?” Ethan asked.
“I wouldn’t think so.” Sunny’s gaze slashed to Chloe. “Would she?” There was a plea in her voice. She didn’t want that possibility to be true.
“I don’t know,” Chloe admitted.
“She could have gone with him,” Sunny murmured, and she got to her feet. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this now. I just can’t do this,” she insisted, and she hurried out of the room.
Livvy and Ethan didn’t go after her, but they would have to question her more. Sunny might have vital information to ID her sister’s killer. But Chloe might as well.
“Other than Anthony is there anyone else who might have wanted to harm Zadie?” Livvy came out and asked.
When Chloe shook her head, Livvy added, “Maybe a disgruntled former client? I mean, not everyone can be happy about the results they get here.”
Chloe sighed and glanced out the window again. So did Livvy when she caught the blur of motion. Sunny. She was running past the two pregnant women and toward the back of the garden.
“There’s a small creek back there,” Chloe said, “and it’s one of Sunny’s favorite spots. I’ll give her a few minutes and then go to her, if that’s all right.”
Those few minutes might get stretched out a bit, depending on Chloe’s responses to their questions, but Livvy agreed that Sunny needed to be checked out.
“Possible disgruntled clients?” Ethan prompted Chloe.
She sighed, nodded. “Yes, there are some who aren’t happy with the results. Infertility puts a tremendous amount of strain on a couple’s relationship and the couple themselves.”
Even though it was barely noticeable, Livvy saw a muscle tighten in Ethan’s jaw. Maybe Chloe had hit a nerve. Or it could be any mention of fertility issues triggered memories of Isabel.
“Some clients grow tired of waiting and opt out,” Chloe explained. “Some decide to end all treatments and try the adoption route. A handful of those might believe they wasted their time and money here.”
“We need names,” Ethan said.
Chloe sighed again. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get a warrant for that. Or try to get one anyway. As you know, privacy of medical records is protected under the law.”
They were, and Livvy knew they probably wouldn’t get a warrant for a deep dive into the clients’ treatments. Still, they might get names.
“This is a murder investigation,” Ethan reminded Chloe, and his tone was all cop now. “One of those disgruntled clients could have murdered Zadie. If you’re harboring a killer, do you want that on your conscience?”
Ethan was clearly playing hardball with the woman. But Chloe didn’t jump to give in. “I’ll speak with our lawyer and get back to you on that. I’m not promising anything,” she tacked on as she leaned back against the sofa. “I know who you are, Deputy Oakley. Your wife was here, and she mentioned you were a police officer. I suppose I could count her as one of those not pleased with the services here.”
Livvy silently groaned. Chloe was playing hardball, too.
“My wife’s not a murder suspect. She’s dead,” Ethan stated, his voice flat. But Livvy figured he was trying to tamp down a whole lot of emotion.
Chloe flinched but quickly regained her composure. “I’m sorry for your loss. But I brought her up to show you why privacy is important to our clients. You wouldn’t want people poring over the details of her visit here.”
Ethan was no doubt ready to respond to that, but the sound of footsteps approaching stopped him. They shifted their attention toward the arched entry and saw a man step into the room. It had to be Chloe’s brother. They shared the same dark brown eyes, and the shape of his face was like his sister’s. And like Chloe, his hair was gray, but it didn’t make him look old.
