"What if they found evidence? What if there was something in Marcus's car, DNA or fibers or something we missed? What if someone saw us that night? What if they found the body?”
"They didn't find the body." I stand and cross to her, taking her face in my hands. Her skin is still damp from the shower, warm beneath my palms. "Listen to me. If they had real evidence, if they could prove anything, they wouldn't be inviting us for a chat. They'd be showing up with handcuffs.”
"Then why call us in at all?”
"Because they're fishing. They have suspicions but nothing concrete. They want to get us in a room, ask questions, see if we slip up." I hold her gaze, willing her to believe me. "We're not going to slip up.”
"Should we bring a lawyer?”
I've already considered this. Already decided. "No. I don’t want to arouse suspicion.”
"But what if they try to trap us? What if they separate us and twist our words?”
"Then we stay calm and stick to our story. The same story we've been telling since the beginning." I brush a wet strand of hair from her face. "We go in, we cooperate, we act like two people with absolutely nothing to hide. Because that's what innocent people do.”
"Phoenix, I can't do this. I can't sit across from those detectives and lie to their faces. I barely held it together last time.”
"You did more than hold it together. You were perfect.”
"I was terrified.”
"So was I." I pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her. She's trembling, and I hate that I can't make it stop. "But we got through it. And we'll get through tomorrow too.”
She doesn't answer, just presses her face into my shirt and breathes. I stroke her wet hair and stare out at the ocean, my mind already working through scenarios. We need to go over every detail of our story, every possible question they might ask.
We spend the rest of the day doing exactly that.
I make coffee and we sit at the kitchen table, going through everything from the beginning. The dinner party where Jade met Marcus. The cabin trip. The timeline of when we left and when we returned. We rehearse answers until they feel natural, until the lies roll off our tongues as smoothly as truth.
"What if they ask about the cabin?" Jade asks, her hands wrapped around her mug. "What if they know we were there?"
"We were there. That's not a secret. We went up for a romantic weekend. We came back early because of the weather."
"And Marcus?"
"We didn't see him. We don't know why he was in the area. Maybe he was meeting someone else. Maybe he got lost. It's not our problem."
"What if they separate us? Ask different questions to see if our stories match?"
"They probably will. That's standard interrogation technique." I reach across the table and take her hand. "But it doesn't matter. We're telling the same story because it's thetruth. The version of the truth that doesn't include what actually happened."
She nods, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. The fear that's been building since the moment this nightmare began.
We go over the details again. And again. By evening, we're both exhausted, wrung out from the constant rehearsal, but I'm confident we can handle whatever Nowak throws at us.
It's the things we can't prepare for that worry me.
Night falls. We eat dinner without tasting it, neither of us willing to acknowledge the tension that hangs between us. Jade pushes food around her plate while I pretend to read emails on my phone. The silence is suffocating.
Finally, I can't take it anymore.
"Come with me," I say, standing and holding out my hand.
She looks up at me, confused. "Where?"
"You'll see."
I lead her through the house to the garage, where my collection of cars waits in the dim light. Past the Porsche, past the vintage Mustang I've been restoring for years, to the back corner where a canvas tarp covers something low and sleek.
