I hesitate, remembering all the times he stood beside me in foyer, waiting for me to shut the alarm off when we came home from a date, then I realize why she’s asking.
“You think Greg did something to Andrew? That’s absurd.” Greg might look tough, but he’s the least violent person I know. He’s the kind of guy who breaks up fights. Not starts them.
“Forensics still need to process the scene and there’ll be an autopsy, but right now we’re treating his death as suspicious. When is the last time you spoke to Greg?”
Forensics. Autopsy. Suspicious. I want to write down the words and stare at them, because they can’t be right. She’s watching my face. What is she looking for?
I think of Sophie in another room, with some police officer she’s never met asking all these excruciating questions. Is she crying? Is she asking for me? I have to get this interview over with and get her the hell out of this place before I go ballistic.
“Greg and I broke up.”
“How did your brother feel about Andrew?” The question is past tense. It throws me again, this realization that Andrew is gone. He was a presence in my life for almost twenty years. Good or bad, he was always there. In my thoughts, my memories. In my daughter.
“They don’t talk.”
“It have been hard for him to see how Andrew treated you and Sophie.”
We hold gazes and I feel a trickle of unease. “The same as any brother, I suppose. He has a girlfriend. She’s pregnant. They’re very happy.” I’m rambling, telling her things she hasn’t even asked about, but I can’t seem to stop. I hope that Chris hasn’t been telling any of his friends how he should have gotten rid of Andrew years ago. It won’t look good. He’d been so angry when I told him about Greg getting hit with a truck. The trickle of unease swells to a river.
“So what do you think happened to Andrew?”
“He broke into my house so he could figure out where I’d gone—he was probably checking my e-mails again. Then he tripped on something. Angus always had bones and toys at the top of the stairs. He piles them outside my bedroom like gifts.” I feel more confident now, sure this is right. She will see the truth in this explanation and stop asking ridiculous questions.
“My alarm code—it was the date of my divorce. He could have guessed.” I pause, thinking. “He worked in construction. Maybe he knew how to disable it.”
“Would Sophie have ever met him at the house or given him the code?”
“God, no.” I think about Jared and wonder if Sophie has given him the code or if he’d ever seen her press in the numbers. I almost mention it, then decide not to. It’s too unlikely.
“And your friend can verify you’ve been in Vancouver all week?”
“You think I had something to do with it?” I’m incredulous, though my face infuses with guilty heat when I remember the conversation I’d had with Jenny.
She looks at me evenly. “You were very angry with him.”
“Of course I was angry, but I didn’t kill him.”
“Was Sophie with you the whole time?”
“I can’t believe you’re asking these questions.” Panic digs sharp teeth into the base of my neck. Sophie is alone with a police officer. Should she have a lawyer?
“I know this is upsetting, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t ask.” She leans forward. “We just need to rule you both out, okay? It will help us know where we should focus.”
That may be true, but I still resent her, even if she does look sympathetic. It’s probably a ploy to make me think she’s on my side so I let down my guard. Is the other cop twisting and turning Sophie’s words? What if she tells them how angry she was at her father?
“Sophie was alone at Jenny’s house for a few hours sometimes, but that’s it. She didn’t have any way back to the island. We only came back this morning because I have to pay my employees—they’re still waiting.” I sit back in the seat, exhausted and overwhelmed and close to tears. “I was supposed to meet one of my girls an hour ago.”
“Once the officers have finished and his body has been removed, you can go back in for your belongings. Someone will accompany you because it’s an active crime scene.”
“I want to see Sophie. If you keep her any longer, I’m going to sue.” I don’t have a clue what I would sue for, but the threat feels good. I meet her eyes, and for the first time I notice she looks really tired, her skin pale with puffy circles under her eyes. She said she was working double shifts all week, but she still came in today. Did they bring her in just to interview me because we’ve been working together? Maybe they thought I’d trust her more. They were wrong.
“I’ll check if they’re finished.” She stands up, then pauses with her hand on her chair. “I’m sorry things had to end this way. I really hoped he’d leave you alone.”
I look up at her, startled by her words. Then I’m angry.