Evan rested a hand on my arm to stop me from answering. “Miss Moriarty will not answer any questions until you present us with a reason for holding her.”
Mallory opened the laptop and turned it toward us. With the press of the space bar, a video started, which was obviously from a CCTV camera somewhere near the Regent’s Park York Bridge. It showed a few scattered pedestrians walking along the sidewalk in front of the bridge. But because there was no foot traffic coming in and out of the park that early in the morning, the appearance of a woman being dragged by a dark figure instantly drew my attention. The two figures moved closer to the camera as they left, close enough to see that the dark figure was female, her hair tucked into a hat that hid her face. Not that her face would have been distinguishable without the hat. The footage was so blurry, I knew the other figure was Constance only because of the bags.
“That’s not—,” I started, but Evan rested his hand on my arm once more.
“That could be anyone,” he said.
Mallory looked right at me. “I asked you before if you had any enemies. Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?”
I started to speak, only to be cut off by Evan again.
“Still waiting for the evidence that would allow you to hold her here.”
“The body was found sprawled halfway into her house.”
Alice spoke up then. “Which actually proves she didn’t do it. Why in the world would she kill someone and put the body where it would most implicate her?”
“Because she’s arrogant,” Mallory said. He was still staring at me, but it was obvious he didn’t think I’d done it. “Because she doesn’t think the police are smart enough to beat her. Because she’s been playing us all this time.”
Evan was unfazed by the inspector’s little speech. “That’s all your conjecture and contains not a shred of evidence.”
“Yes, and it’s exactly the conjecture that will appear in newscasts and across the Internet before the next hour has passed. Let her tell us where she was. What does she have to hide?”
“Nothing,” Evan said. “She’s neither hiding nor revealing anything, because you have the burden to prove why you are holding her.”
Mallory opened the final file folder. “We have a witness who saw her going into the park last night.” He flipped a page. “We have a statement from the victim that she saw Miss Moriarty tossing a murder weapon into the lake.” He flipped a page. “We then found that weapon and have confirmed that it is the weapon used to kill at least two other victims in Regent’s Park—crimes Miss Moriarty has accused her father of committing. And finally,” he said, flipping yet another page, “we have confirmed that the victim of this morning’s crime was killed with a weapon similar to that used in the previous crimes.”
I shook my head and sat back. I’d come there to tell the truth, but I was starting to second-guess that decision. I was pretty sure Mallory would listen. It was even possible he’d believe me. But I was also sure the “similar weapon” bit was a lie meant to trap me somehow. I hadn’t taken the time to inspect the body, but if it had been slashed, I’m sure I would have noticed a giant pool of blood dripping down our stoop.
Evan leaned forward. “That is all circumstantial.”
“Perhaps,” Mallory said. “But it is enough to hold her. And if she didn’t do it, then there is someone out there doing their best to make it look like she did. If for no other reason, we’ll hold her for her own safety.”
“Or until your thirty-five hours elapse.”
Mallory gathered his papers and walked from the room, leaving us to fall into an awkward silence.
That was until Alice asked, “What now?”
“Now we wait and see what they find,” Evan said. He turned toward me. “Tell me, what is it they are going to find?”
Chapter 24
Evan and Alice left me after I’d told them where I’d been the night before, Alice to see to the boys and Evan to check that the police were following all the rules correctly and to file a response to the request for the longer hold.
“Once again, it’s you and me,” I said, to whichever officer was behind the mirror to babysit me. He, of course, didn’t respond, leaving me with my thoughts, which for once was exactly what I needed.
I’d let everything that happened to me exist in a swirling chaos for far too long. I needed order. I needed to pin everything I knew, like mapping equations on a graph, then draw the lines between the pins to reveal the pattern. I needed to solve for X.
No, I needed a time line. I needed to start from the beginning and order the steps of the crimes against me. I needed to see them all in sequence and find my connections.
I touched my finger to the table on the very left edge.
First pin: Constance Ross saw me throw my father’s sword in the lake.
I moved my finger an inch to the right and touched it down again.
Second pin: She told her husband, Charles Ross, who drew the scene like one of her fantasies.
And again.
Third pin: Charles Ross saw my father kill Sadie Mae and drew that scene as well.