Zach took a stab in the dark. “Were you lovers?”
“Yes.”
That was the guy’s motive for hating Grace. He thinks she befriended him to get to his mother. “Did you break up with her?”
“How could I not? I couldn’t be with someone who killed my mother.”
This guy was still angry. “Did she tell you she didn’t kill your mother?”
“Yes.”
If they’d been lovers, why didn’t he trust her? “Why didn’t you believe her?”
Then why didn’t he, himself, trust Grace either?
“Because she knew it would happen.”
“You don’t think there might have been another way for her to know?”
“Like what?”
“Like she’s psychic?”
A disgruntled laugh erupted from the phone. “You aren’t buying that story are you?”
Zach was trying. Even though the words sounded absurd to him. Oh, he knew psychics, just none that could go back in time. He was a stuck in an episode of Twilight Zone. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Becker.”
“Don’t get involved with her. She’s poison.”
Too late, thought Zach.
Mark’s lawyer was coming from Newark, so Grace had to wait, but the detectives let her stay in the interrogation room. Otherwise she would have walked out. And they’d let her go the bathroom.
She wondered where Zach was. Probably mourning his ex-wife. Would she get into see Dolores before it was too late.
Never before had she ever wanted to rewind. Her life was in a shambles and she had to work tonight. Would the lawyer get there in time?
Maybe she should just a walk out.
Then the door opened and Zach walked through looking like he’d lost his best friend.
Her heart leapt at the sight of him, but she didn’t move from her spot. Pulling out the chair across from her he sighed before setting his lanky frame onto the unpadded seat.
“Thanks for calling Mark.”
“I think he’s on his way here.”
“He should be in California.”
“Didn’t sound that way.” He raked a hand through his hair. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine since I didn’t do anything. You believe me.”
“I want to. I don’t believe you would have any reason to kill Dolores.”
His lack of faith in her cut, but he didn’t get to know her well enough this time to trust her. “I think I know what the problem is.”
“What?”
“Each time I’ve rewound, things have been different.”
“Okay.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
“Just listen for a minute,” she said, sensing his distrust.
“Go ahead.”
She motioned to the mirror. “Is there anyone in that room?”
He moved towards a switch on the wall then flicked it. “No one can hear us.”
“Someone is doing things differently every time.”
“Do you realize how nuts this sounds?”
Her eyes widened. She pulled her hair away from her face. “Zach, I thought you believed me.”
He looked at the table his hands raking through his hair. “I want to, Grace, but I can’t.”
She reached out to him, but stopped before she actually made contact. “What can I do to prove to you?”
“I’m not sure you can.”
Her arms crossed. “So you’ve been humoring me all along?”
He frowned at the floor, but didn’t speak. Her heart pumped, but was heavier in her chest.
“Anyway, I don’t know who else can rewind. Whoever it is must be screwing things up. I need to rewind. I need to see Dolores.”
“You can walk out of here.”
“Yes, but I cannot see Dolores. aShe’s part of a murder investigation. They won’t let just anyone view the body.”
“You work at the hospital, can’t you get in?”
“I can get to the morgue, but not to Dolores.”
His gaze met hers. “I can’t help you.”
Zach met Mark on his way out of the interrogation room. The guy reminded him of a weasel, beady eyes, pointy nose and scruffy beard. Did he know what a razor looked like?
“Mark Handon,” he said and held out a hand with short fingers.
“Detective Zach Holten.”
“Yes, I figured.”
“Your friend on the way?”
“Yeah, can I see Grace?”
“You related?”
“No.”
“I’ll have to talk to the detectives on the case.”
He did and they agreed Mark could go in. Zach didn’t look at Grace as he led the man to her.
Shutting the door, he wished he’d turned on the intercom. He’d be curious what Mark’s relationship was to Grace.
She’d been happy to see him.
Zach settled into a hard plastic chair on the other side of the mirror. He couldn’t hear, but he could watch.
Grace didn’t hug her friend. He seemed to expect it. Instead, she turned away from him towards the mirror.
Mark had his hands out as if pleading with her on some point. Lover’s spat?
He didn’t think so. Grace had more class in her little finger than this guy had in his whole body. His sense of privacy getting the best of him, he left to let them talk without observation.
Grace knew as soon as she saw him, Mark had done something wrong. She didn’t know what, but she could sense it.
But he wouldn’t tell her.
Then the odd thought struck her. Could he rewind?
“Why aren’t you in California?”
“I didn’t get the job and I heard about some auditions in Manhattan.”
“Were you going to let me know you were in town?”
His gaze slipped away from hers, a sure sign he was lying. “I wasn’t in town.”
“Right. When will your friend be here?”
“Any minute.”
“I have a favor to ask.” His eyes lit up as if he was now in her good graces. “I need to get into the morgue.”
“You work at the hospital, why can’t you get into it yourself.”
“No one’s going to let me into see Dolores.”
