“That’s not what my lawyer said,” Dana whispered. “He wanted me to plead self-defense for a lighter sentence.”
“Don’t do it.” Cate leaned forward. “Let me see what I can find.” She stared at Dana, her eyes narrowing. “I have a few connections in the police department. I want to see what evidence they have and who might have seen him last. It might take some time.”
Dana snorted. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t even have money to make bail. Marcus moved the bulk of our savings into a high-yield savings account. I have no idea where.”
“I’d like to get into your house, if possible.”
“I kept a spare key under the garden gnome in the backyard rose bushes.” Dana shook her head. “Although I don’t know what you’ll find. My lawyer told me that the police have been through the house, collecting anything they might find as evidence, including the knife, our computer, cell phones and everything in the file cabinet in Marcus’s home office.”
“Give me your phone number and Marcus’s, the names of your banks and your Social Security numbers.” Cate pulled out her own cell phone and noted the information Dana could recall. “What about people he worked with? Do you know the names of his colleagues?”
Dana’s brow puckered. “He talked about a Garrett Sterling at the State Department.” She shook her head. “I don’t remember the others. He had his job. I had mine. Though I’m sure being a murder suspect will keep me from ever going back to work as an elementary school teacher, even if you can clear my name.”
“We will clear your name,” Cate promised. “There’s no way in hell you killed Marcus. I’m going by the police station and then your house to see if I can get in.” She pocketed her cell phone and pushed herself to her feet.
“Thanks, Cate,” Dana said.
“For what?” Cate asked. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“For believing me,” Dana said, her eyes filling with tears. “And, Cate, be careful. If Marcus is dead, whoever killed him is still out there.”
Cate left the detention center and drove to the police station, where she asked to speak with Detective Hargrove, the detective in charge of Dana’s murder investigation.
He was on his way out when she arrived.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” the detective asked as he continued toward the door.
“I’m Cate Marsh,” Cate said, falling in beside the detective. “I’m a friend of Dana Calloway.”
The detective’s eyes narrowed as he pushed through the front entrance. “Our murder suspect.”
“She didn’t kill her husband,” Cate said.
“Ms. Marsh, if she didn’t kill him, he’s not going to last long with as much blood as he lost.”
“I take it you still don’t have a body,” Cate stated.
“No body, but all the evidence points to domestic homicide, and Mrs. Calloway’s fingerprints are all over the murder weapon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Cate stepped back as Detective Hargrove climbed into his sedan and left.
She drove to Dana’s townhouse and parked on a side street a block away. The townhouse looked much like those around it—same design, different color brick, but cookie-cutter. If the police had cordoned it off, they’d since removed the yellow caution tape. Rather than approach from the front, she made her way down the back alley and through the gate that led into the small backyard flanked by privacy fencing. As Dana had described, Cate found the gnome tucked between rose bushes filled with soft pink blooms. She bent to retrieve the key from beneath the colorful gnome.
Cate straightened and carried the key to the back door. As she raised her hand to place the key into the lock, she noticed the door wasn’t completely closed, and the wood frame around the lock was splintered.
Her first instinct was to stop there and call the police to report a break-in. Curiosity pushed that thought to the back burner. Caution made her silently nudge the door wider. Whoever had forced the door open might still be inside. Careful not to touch anything with her fingertips, she entered the kitchen and pressed a hand across her mouth to muffle a gasp.
The place was a shambles. And not like what the police might have left behind. Kitchen drawers had been pulled out of their slots, the contents, along with the drawers, flung across the floor.
Cate stepped carefully through the cutlery and spatulas, continuing past the dining area to the living room beyond. There, the sofa had been tipped onto its back, its cushions removed and slashed, and its stuffing pulled halfway out. An end table lay on its side, the drawer smashed beside it, pens, nail clippers, and notepads scattered nearby.
Moving quietly, Cate climbed the stairs and checked the master bedroom, where the bed had been stripped of sheets and blankets. The mattress had been slashed down the middle and lay halfway off the platform bed, exposing the empty wooden frame beneath it.
It was as if someone had been desperately looking for something.
But what?
And what did it have to do with Marcus’s death or disappearance?
