"Two days later. We cut the trip short because of the weather. A storm was coming in, and we didn't want to get snowed in."
"Did anything unusual happen while you were there?"
My heart is pounding so hard I'm certain they can hear it. This is the question. This is the moment where everything could fall apart.
"No," I say, and the lie tastes like ash on my tongue. "It was quiet. We hiked, we cooked dinner, we enjoyed the peace and quiet. That's all."
"You didn't see anyone else while you were there? No visitors? No unexpected encounters?"
"No. We were completely alone."
Nowak studies my face, his sharp eyes searching for cracks. I meet his gaze and try to project calm, innocence, the kind of open honesty that says I have nothing to hide. Inside, I'm screaming.
"Did you see Mr. Webb at any point during or after that trip?"
"No." The word comes out firm, certain. Practiced. "The last time I saw Marcus was at a business dinner about three weeks ago. I haven't seen or spoken to him since."
A long pause stretches between us. Nowak glances at Reeves, who gives an almost imperceptible shrug. Then Nowak closes his folder and leans back in his chair.
"Ms. Catalano, is there anything else you'd like to tell us? Anything at all that might be relevant to our investigation?"
I think about the body buried in the frozen ground. The blood Phoenix scrubbed from the cabin floor. The fire pokerthat caved in Marcus's skull. The sounds he made as he died, sounds that still echo through my nightmares.
"No," I say. "I've told you everything I know."
Nowak nods slowly, his expression unreadable. "Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch if we have any further questions."
He stands, and Reeves follows suit. The interview is over, just like that, and I'm not sure if I should feel relieved or terrified. They didn't accuse me of anything. They didn't produce evidence or catch me in a lie. But they didn't clear me either.
The officer who brought me here appears in the doorway. "Ms. Catalano? I'll escort you back to the lobby.”
My legs feel like jelly, my mind racing through every answer I gave, every pause that might have seemed suspicious, every moment where I might have revealed something I shouldn't have. The walk back down the hallway feels endless, and when we emerge into the lobby, Phoenix isn't there.
Of course he isn't. Both detectives were in the room with me. They haven't even started with him yet.
The officer gestures toward the plastic chairs. "Have a seat. Shouldn't be too long.”
I sit and wait, watching the clock on the wall tick through minutes that feel like hours. People come and go. The tired officer at the front desk answers phones and shuffles paperwork. A woman argues with someone about a parking ticket. Normal life, happening all around me, while my entire world hangs in the balance.
What are they asking Phoenix right now? Are they using my answers against him, looking for inconsistencies, setting traps? Did I say something wrong without realizing it?
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door to the back opens and Phoenix emerges. His posture is rigid, his facecarefully blank, but when he sees me, I see relief in his eyes. Or maybe fear. I can't tell anymore.
He stands and crosses to me, taking my hand. "Ready to go?"
I nod. We don't speak again until we're in the car, doors closed, the noise of the city muffled by glass and steel.
"What did they ask you?" Phoenix says, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
I tell him everything. The timeline questions. The cabin. Whether I'd seen Marcus after the dinner. His eyes stay fixed on the road ahead, but I can see his jaw tightening with every word.
"What did you say about seeing Marcus?"
"I said no. That I hadn't seen him since the business dinner three weeks ago."
Phoenix nods. "Good. That's what I said too."
But something in his voice doesn't quite ring true. Or maybe I'm imagining things. Maybe the paranoia is finally getting to me, making me see cracks where there are none.
