“We found your insurance policies and checked with the companies.”
“Yeah?” He lifted a shoulder.
“You had major policies on your wife. Total of nearly two million dollars.”
“I know. Those were taken out when the kids were born.”
“But a new one was bought recently. Just a month ago.”
“I told you we were planning on another child.” He picked up the second drink.
“A boy, right? An heir.”
“Hopefully.” Nervously, Jamison fidgeted with the second glass, the amber liquid sloshing a bit.
“About that, Jamison,” Pierce said. There was no reason to keep beating around the bush. “It doesn’t work.”
Tick, tick, tick. The clock was relentless in counting down the seconds.
“What do you mean? What doesn’t work?”
“We know Naomi had surgery, a tubal ligation.”
“The autopsy?”
“Will confirm,” Pierce said. “We noticed the scars on her abdomen.”
He didn’t argue. “There are ways of reversing the surgery. Medicine’s come a long way in the last few years.”
“If the woman is willing.”
“She is—was,” Jamison said, but Pierce noticed a vein bulging near his temples, jumping in counterpoint to the damned ticking of the clock.
Jamison gulped from the second glass.
“She was willing to have another baby.”
“Wanted,” he cut in.
“Okay, wanted another baby.”
“I told you we were trying to patch things up. Save our marriage.”
“Even though she was still seeing Knox Quinlan?”
“She was going to break it off with him.”
Pierce stared at his friend, right through the lie. “I thought you didn’t know about the affair until I brought it up. But you’re saying she admitted it? Was going to call things off with Quinlan?” He saw Jamison realizing that he’d misspoken, that his lies were unraveling. Pierce recognized the panic in his friend’s eyes, but he didn’t stop. “We’re having a more in-depth interview with Quinlan today.”
“Why? Do you think he’ll tell you the truth?” Jamison asked, his cool facade slipping. “He’s an ex-con, Pierce. An adulterer. A liar. He probably killed Naomi. For all you know, he’s the Savannah Slasher! There was a rock found in her hand, for the love of God. Why the hell are you not arresting him?”
“He didn’t kill Naomi,” Pierce said. As Jamison stalked across the room, knocking into the coffee table and swearing, Pierce kept his eye on him. “You know it.”
“I know it? How?”
“Because you killed her.”
Jamison stopped dead in his tracks. “What did you say?” He turned to face Pierce. “You think I killed Naomi? My wife? The mother of my girls?” If he was trying to appear incredulous, he failed.
