Blood rushes to my head. I feel dizzy. How can I explain this photo? “Where did you get this?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, Ms. Ross. Can you describe the circumstances behind this photo?”
“There are no circumstances.” I hand her phone back to her, trying to keep my hand from shaking as I do so. “We were at the same party. That’s all.”
“You look like you’re engaged in intimate conversation here.”
“Conversation? Yes. Intimate? No. People have conversations at parties.”
“So you did, in fact, know Robert Avery.”
“Well, I met him that night.” I pause. It feels like a trick question. The old “Have you stopped beating your wife?” If you answer yes, you are admitting to previously beating your wife. If you answer no—well, then, you are still beating her.
“I see.”
“Literally thirty minutes before this picture was taken.” Sweat has begun to seep out from under my arms and bra line. I forgot that this room is the warmest in the house, and I debate taking off my cardigan. I don’t want her to see my sweat stains, because I don’t want her to know how nervous this whole conversation is making me.
“And you never had any communication with Mr. Avery before the night this photo was taken, either via text or email or some kind of phone application?”
“Phone application?” I swallow the lump in my throat. I know exactly what she means.
“An app, like Instagram or Tinder.”
Just hearing that word makes my stomach curl. Stay off Tinder. “No.”
From his spot in the corner, Detective Katz clears his throat. Both Detective Lopez and I turn to him.
“Nice picture,” he says, tilting a framed photo of Mark and me at the Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco. “How long have you and your husband been married?”
“Five years.” I wonder if he is thinking of Cole and doing the math to figure out that our son was conceived out of wedlock.
“Marriage is tough these days,” he says. “A lot of temptation.”
“Half of all marriages end in divorce,” Detective Lopez says. It takes a millisecond for me to realize that they have shifted into sympathetic, marriage counseling mode. They think I’m going to confess to sleeping with Rob Avery.
“Maybe,” I say in as deliberate and calm a voice as I can manage. “But I still didn’t know who Rob Avery was before I met him at this party. In fact, I didn’t even know his last name until I saw the news yesterday.”
The two detectives exchange a glance, and that silent look does more to scare me than anything they’ve said so far. I hear the back door open, and a few seconds later, Mark calls out from the kitchen, “Hello! Anyone home?”
“In here,” I call back in a shaky voice. I stand up, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. “That’s my husband. You should go now.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Leah and Daisy across the street, standing at the curb, talking to Heather. They are all dressed in black yoga pants and colorful fleeces. I wonder if they have spoken to the police. Could Leah have said something about what I told her, about Rob attacking me in the bathroom?
Detective Lopez stands, snapping her little notebook shut. “If there’s anything you remember, or anything you want to tell us, I strongly encourage you to reach out. Secrets have a way of outing, Ms. Ross. Especially in a murder investigation. In my experience, it’s better to just come clean in the beginning.”
“Come clean? What’s this about?”
We all turn to see Mark at the doorway to the room, a plastic-wrapped bouquet of grocery store mums hanging by his side.
His eyes zip from me to the detectives and back to me again. “What’s going on?”
Lopez pockets her notebook and pivots toward Mark.
“Detective Lopez, Montgomery County Police. This is Detective Katz.” She jerks her head in the other detective’s direction. “We are canvassing the neighborhood in regard to Sunday’s homicide. Do you have a minute, Mr. Ross?”
“Actually, I don’t.”
A slight wave of surprise crosses the detective’s face, and I love Mark for standing up to her. He’s a lawyer, albeit an arbitration lawyer, but he knows his rights.
“Then I’ll leave you a card, and we can arrange another time to talk.”
“Fine.” His voice is crisp and officious.
An awkward silence ensues until Mark steps back and gestures with his arm toward the front door. “Let me show you out.”
Mark and I trail them to the front. As they head down the walkway to the unmarked car, he puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. As soon as they drive off, Daisy, Leah, and Heather turn and smile at us, all three waving in unison.
14
Mark doesn’t mention the police visit during dinner. I am unsure if he is avoiding the topic because Cole is there or if he really doesn’t think it’s a big deal. Instead, I tell him about the potential Valerie Simmons shoot, but I am unable to tap into the excitement I felt earlier.
The visit from the police has infused me with anxiety.
After dinner, Cole runs upstairs, and Mark and I get a moment alone while clearing the table.
“I’m freaking out about that visit,” I say, passing him a stack of dirty plates. “Those detectives, especially the woman—”
“Lopez. Detective Lopez.” Mark puts down the soapy sponge and focuses on me.
“Right. Detective Lopez. She was so suspicious.”
“She was certainly very aggressive.”
“Like she thought I actually was involved somehow.”
“I’m not sure you should read too much into it, honey.” He walks around the island and wraps his arms around me. “They’re just doing their job. To a cop, everyone looks like a suspect.”
In his arms, some of the tension I have been holding begins to melt. I lean my cheek against the cool poplin of his dress shirt, inhale his scent. “I guess so. I just got a weird feeling.”
He
