Page 13 of Fury In Death

“In his position, he’d be required to supervise, reprimand, perhaps terminate employment.”

“Yes. I don’t know of anyone. We talk about work in generalities because what do I know about bioengineering? But we talk. He’d say so-and-so screwed this up, or that new hire I told you about’s working out great, or isn’t. Larry gets along with people, in fact does what he can to avoid conflict, find a compromise. And I know him. We’ve been together for thirty-six years.”

She took a slow sip of wine.

“He would recommend further training, shift projects, recommend a transfer before firing someone. Firing? Last resort. Because I know him, he wouldn’t have to tell me if he’d been worried, if something was wrong. I’d see it, hear it in his voice. I’d know, and he wasn’t. In fact, we were meeting friends for dinner tonight. I had to cancel—the officer said I could. I didn’t tell them. I said something came up. I didn’t want to say it out loud. Not yet.”

When her voice quavered, she lifted the wine, drank deep. “Once I say it out loud, it’s real. There’s no going back.”

“Ms. Chu, who has your husband’s security code for the house?”

“Security code? No one. I don’t even have his. I have my own. Allen has his own. It’s more limited than ours, but—”

“Allen McKay?”

“Yes, he works for us. The droid is more backup. Allen sees to the house, the meals. The droid generally sees to breakfast, but Allen keeps the pantry, the AutoChef stocked. Deals with laundry, light housekeeping.”

“How long has he worked for you?”

“Ah, eight years. It may be nine. Eight or nine. Lieutenant, he’s almost like family. He couldn’t have done this.”

“Your security shows he left the house before the attack. But we’ll want to speak with him. I’ll want his contact information.”

“All right. It’s on my ’link. He lives a few blocks away.” Pausing, she looked around vaguely. “He and his husband adopted a baby last spring.”

“Why don’t you take me through what happened when you got home this evening?”

“I had to work late. We had a few issues, and when you’re in charge, you have to fix them. Larry and I understood that about each other. I texted him, told him I’d be late, and he answered that he was nearly home, but he had work he needed to deal with there.”

“What time was that?”

“I’m not sure. I think about three-thirty. I think. I reminded him about meeting Carin and Ham for dinner, eight o’clock at Mondale’s, because he’d need to change, and I probably wouldn’t get home until six or six-thirty.”

“Could I see the texts?”

“What? Oh, of course. My ’link’s in my purse. I . . . I left it on the table in the foyer. I think. I’ll go get it.”

“Why don’t I get that for you?” Roarke said.

“Thanks.” Eve gave him a glance, then turned back to Rachel. “You stated his office door was locked. Was that usual when he worked in there?”

“No, not routinely. Now and again, yes. When I came in, I saw the door closed. I think I just shook my head. I sent him another text as I went upstairs, just a reminder. Then I didn’t think about it again until I’d freshened up, changed, then realized how late it was, and he hadn’t come up. So I sent him another text, then another. I was trying not to be angry, but we haven’t seen Carin and Ham for months. They were in Europe all summer.

“So I went down,” she said when Roarke came back with a glittery little evening bag. “I sent another text, and now I wasn’t getting angry, I was worried. It wasn’t like him not to answer. Maybe once if he’d been in the middle of something, but not that many times. I got the key, and I unlocked the door.”

For a moment, those dark green eyes unfocused.

“I didn’t go in. I didn’t even know it was him at first. How could it be? I screamed for him to come, to come quick, to call the police. Then I realized . . . then I knew. I was sick. I got to the powder room, and I was sick. I called the police.”

She drank more wine, then set the glass down to take the ’link out of her purse. She tried to tap in her code.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do it. My hands are shaking.”

“Would you like me to open it?”

“Please.” She handed Eve the ’link, gave her the code.

Eve found the texts, the first sent at three-thirty-five.