“’Cause they think it’s connected to Jimmy, right?” I stated dully. “They suspect me in both cases. Oh, Adam, this is bad.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he reminded me. “Just let Hoffman do most of the talking. It won’t take long. Less than an hour, I’m sure, and then it will be over.”
Adam knew the drill with these things. No surprise there, since he’d been through a number of interrogations and questionings of his own over the years.
“So when will they be here?” I asked, suddenly feeling queasy at the prospect of more questions—questions to which I had no real answers. Or rather answers that I couldn’t divulge.
Adam tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Soon, another hour. Maybe less, since they want to get this wrapped up before the storm hits.”
The huge storm that had been in the forecast was promising to deliver a knockout punch by evening. A streak of lightning flashed across the sky, and both Adam and I turned to the window just in time to watch it sizzle into the sea.
Yeah, a storm was brewing, and it was promising to be a big one.
Max drove Detective Mitchell and Elliott Hoffman up to Adam’s compound following their arrival to Fade Island. Max took a seat in the foyer, while Adam ushered Hoffman, Mitchell, and me into his study. Detective Mitchell looked unsure when Adam offered his stately desk chair to him, but he sat down, nonetheless, and set up a small recorder after taking out his trusty notepad and pen.
Hoffman and I settled in the seats across from Mitchell, and Adam leaned casually against the wall by the door. The detective seemed about to say something, probably to ask Adam to leave, but held off when their eyes met in a meaningful stare. The implication was clear: Adam may have graciously given up his chair, but the trade-off was that he would be staying for the questioning.
Clearing his throat and focusing his attention back on me, Detective Mitchell said, “I’m sorry to be bothering you again, Miss Fitch, but this has to be done. I promise to keep it short.”
I gave him a tight smile and nodded. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”
Hoffman shifted in his seat, and Mitchell got down to it, mumbling some preliminaries into his recorder and then asking, “Are you acquainted with a female named Ami Dubois-Hensley?”
“Yes.” I didn’t wait for Hoffman’s go-ahead, since I saw no harm in answering this type of question.
“Would you consider her to be a friend?”
I mulled that one over, but had to say, “Yes.”
“How long have you been friends?”
“Since high school,” I replied. “I guess that puts it at more than ten years, probably around fourteen years.”
Detective Mitchell continued, “Actually, she was your best friend in high school, correct?”
Who told you that? I thought, but instead said, “Yes, she was.”
Mitchell scribbled something down, even though the light on the voice recorder indicated I was being taped. “Did you have occasion to speak to Ami Hensley on the phone yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what time it was?”
“Um, before noon.”
“How did she seem when you spoke to her?”
I glanced at Hoffman, and he nodded. “Um, she seemed normal,” I said.
“Mr. Hensley stated that his wife was on her way to visit you here on the island when she disappeared. Is this correct?”
A distracted nod from Hoffman, who appeared preoccupied with taking notes of his own. But I somehow knew he was acutely aware of everything. So I answered, “Yes, that’s correct.”
“What was the nature of this visit, Miss Fitch?” The detective’s voice grew tight, and I knew we were getting down to the heart of the matter. He was hoping to get some kind of lead on this case—catch me up on something, see what I knew.
I opened my mouth and then closed it. I debated whether or not to mention the scratch I’d seen on J.T.’s arm, something I had yet to relay to Adam. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it until I knew if it meant more, so I was ready to let it go. Some part of me wanted to let this play out, get the answers on my own, but then my dad’s words came back to me.
I started to speak, but Hoffman silenced me with a light touch to my arm. “Detective Mitchell” he said in his smooth lawyer voice, “my client is not required to answer that question. The context of the visit was, no doubt, personal and not related to the case. Therefore, Ms. Fitch will not be responding to that question at this time.”
I nodded in agreement since I had waffled on whether to answer or not. Mitchell conceded with a sigh, “As you wish.”
Hoffmann had no idea why Ami had been on her way to visit me, but I supposed he didn’t care. In any case I was kind of glad there were no more direct questions for me. Mitchell and my attorney continued to speak, arguing over what kinds of questions were appropriate and what were not. It seemed to go on forever.
I soon tuned out their voices, opting instead to stare out the window and watch the play of lightning across an ever-darkening sky. Ultimately we were at nature’s mercy, weren’t we? It made me wonder what control we really had. Was it all an illusion? The study felt further and further away as I lost myself in the vivid display until, bringing me back to the here and now, Adam came up from behind me. Touching my shoulder gently, he murmured, “Maddy?”
I glanced around. Detective Mitchell and Hoffman had evidently departed without my even realizing it. “How long have I been sitting here?” I asked.
“Just a few minutes,” Adam said. “You looked like you needed some time just to think. Mitchell and Hoffman said
