*
Later, I called Stephanie at the shelter and told her there was a chance I might lose my parole even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. I had to stop a couple of times to fight back tears, feeling ashamed, wondering if she’d also heard about the theft at the restaurant, and struggling with an overwhelming sadness that I might have to let Captain go. Thankfully, Stephanie didn’t ask any questions.
“He can live at the shelter until we find a home,” she said, “but he’d have to go up for adoption.”
I didn’t want him living at the shelter, or with anyone else, but it was the best I could hope for. “Thanks, Stephanie.”
I climbed into bed, pulled Captain’s head against my chest, trying not to think of him back in that cage, how I’d promised to take care of him forever.
*
At the station, they took me into the same interview room that they questioned me in after Nicole died. I flashed back to waiting huddled under a blanket, terrified, and wondered now if their choosing this room was deliberate. Sure enough, here came Doug Hicks walking into the room. He’d aged, had to be in his early forties by now, but was in good shape. His white-blond hair and pale eyelashes still creeped me out, and he still looked like a man who thought knocking some heads together was fun times and scaring the hell out of teenagers was just part of the job. When his ice-blue eyes met mine, I felt instant fear and dread. I could already see he’d made up his mind. He hadn’t believed me then and he wasn’t going to believe me now.
He pulled the chair close, leaned on the table. “It seems we have a problem, Toni. I’m hoping you can answer a few questions so we can eliminate you as a suspect, but you’re free to go at any time, okay?”
I was silent, waiting. I knew the drill. I wasn’t under arrest, yet, so he had to make sure he let me know I wasn’t being detained.
“You’ve probably heard that Cathy Schaeffer’s body was found yesterday,” he said. “It appears she was murdered.”
I knew that had to be the case or they wouldn’t have called me in, but the news still hit hard. I thought about Cathy crying at my trial, the lies falling out of her mouth. I’d hated her, but I hadn’t wanted her dead. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Are you?”
“Of course.”
He narrowed his eyes, stared at me hard. In prison you learn never to make eye contact with the guards, and it took all my strength now not to look away.
“I thought you might be happy she’s dead—after how she testified at your trial. That had to have really pissed you off.”
I kept my mouth shut.
He leaned so close I could smell his lunch on his skin, something Italian, basil and tomato sauce. I focused on that, not the fear.
“The way she died, the blows, it looks a lot like your sister’s murder,” he said. “Seems the weapon might have been a tire iron again.”
I tasted acid in my mouth, my stomach contents threatening to rise. I tried to block the memory of Nicole’s body when we’d found her, how her skull had been crushed, her face mangled, but I couldn’t help the flashes that slapped into me, the image of a tire iron smashing down, Nicole trying to cover her head, cowering in terror. I didn’t want Hicks to know he was getting a reaction out of me, but I felt hot all over and beads of sweat were forming on my forehead. He was studying my face, his gaze lingering on the pulse beating frantically in my neck.
“Where were you last Wednesday night?” he said.
“Working late at the restaurant.” I let out my breath a little. I was relieved to hear it was that day. The night before that I’d been home alone, no alibi.
“What time did you get off?”
“It was midnight by the time I finished cleaning up.”
His face was speculative and I wondered what time they figured she had died, or if they knew.
“You go anywhere after?”
I thought back. “I stopped at the gas station for some dog cookies.”
“Got the receipt?”
“I’m not sure, maybe.” I sure as hell hoped so.
“You remember the clerk?”
“It was a young guy, blond hair, goatee.” We’d talked briefly about our dogs. I prayed he would remember me.
Hicks leaned back in his chair. Giving me that same look he had when I was eighteen, like he knew I was no good and was just trying to find out how deep the rot went. “Don’t suppose you know where Ryan was that night?”
I had to be careful now, not show even a flicker of fear in my eyes.
“No idea.”
“You see him since he’s been out?”
“We aren’t allowed any contact.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Bastard was as smart as I remembered.
“No. I haven’t seen him.”
“I heard he’s pretty pissed off about the girls testifying at the trial.”
“I wouldn’t know how he feels.”
“So how do you feel about it?”
I couldn’t help myself. “They were lying.”
“That’s what you said back then too.”