“What’s interesting?”
“The way you keep referring to Miss Schiff in the past tense.”
My mouth falls open. He’s looking at me intently, obviously trying to get a reaction out of me. “I have an alibi for two nights ago,” I remind him.
“An alibi,” he repeats.
I should never have used that word. It makes me sound guilty. Innocent people don’t need alibis. “I mean, I was with somebody.”
“Right. You were with your boyfriend. I remember.”
Except I wasn’t really with Caleb. I’m counting on him to come through for me—I think he will. At the time, it seemed ridiculous to make up an alibi. But now I’m glad I did.
“So I got another question for you, Miss Farrell.” Santoro reaches into his jacket pocket, and I flinch, expecting him to pull out a pair of handcuffs. Of course, that’s ridiculous. Why would he arrest me? Sure enough, he pulls out a photograph. “Could you take a look at this?”
He slides the photo across the conference table. I pick it up and stare at the familiar image. It’s the bookcase at Dawn’s house—the one that was filled with turtle figurines. Just the sight of it sends a shiver down my spine.
“Do you recognize this?” he asks me.
I cringe. “Yes. It was in Dawn’s living room.”
“Notice anything strange about it?”
He’s got to be pulling my leg. Do I notice anything strange about a bookcase filled with statues of turtles? Is there anything not strange about it? “Um…”
The detective taps on the center of the photo. “Right there. There’s something missing.”
He’s pointing at the gap I remember seeing in the bookcase when I was at Dawn’s house. The bookcase was so full, but there was that empty space right in the middle. I had assumed it was a decorating choice.
“It was like that when I got there,” I say. “You think there was something there?”
“The pattern of dust made it look like something was removed recently.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
“You sure?”
He levels his dark, dark eyes at me. My hands are sweaty again, even though I’ve wiped them on my skirt two times since I’ve been in here. “I’m sure.”
He doesn’t drop his eyes. He keeps staring at me like he’s waiting for me to break and tell him everything. But I have told him everything.
“One more thing,” he says in a low, almost conspiratorial voice. “We found an email Dawn sent to you two days ago asking to meet about something important.” He pauses in a meaningful way. “What did she want to meet about?”
“I don’t know. We never had a chance to talk.”
“No? You sure about that?”
I never genuinely believed that Santoro truly thought I could be a suspect until this moment. But when my eyes finally meet his gaze, I realize he knows something. Something damning.
“I wish we had talked.” I fight to keep my voice steady. “Maybe it would have kept her alive.”
He doesn’t have an answer for that. I keep my hands under the table because I don’t want him to see how much they’re shaking.
I glance over at the door to the conference room. “So are we done here?”
“Yes.” The detective’s eyes never leave mine. “We’re done. For now.”
Chapter Fifteen
SIX MONTHS EARLIER
To: Seth Hoffman
From: Dawn Schiff
Subject: My Helpful Suggestion Idea
To Seth,
I was wondering if you’ve given more thought to implementing my suggestion about eliminating business lunches.
Sincerely,
Dawn Schiff
To: Seth Hoffman
From: Dawn Schiff
Subject: Helpful Suggestion Idea Follow-up
To Seth,
I previously was inquiring about the business expenses. I’m attaching a proposal that would show how limiting expenses would save our company a large amount of money. Natalie alone accounts for at least half the expense budget.
Sincerely,
Dawn Schiff
To: Seth Hoffman
From: Dawn Schiff
Subject: Helpful Suggestion Idea Second Follow-up
To Seth,
Did you receive my previously emailed proposal?
Sincerely,
Dawn Schiff
To: Seth Hoffman
From: Dawn Schiff
Subject: Helpful Suggestion Idea Third Follow-up
To Seth,
Did you receive my previous email about whether you received my previously emailed proposal?
Sincerely,
Dawn Schiff
To: Dawn Schiff
From: Seth Hoffman
Subject: Re: Helpful Suggestion Idea Third Follow-up
Yes, I got it. Decided to go in another direction.
To: Mia Hodge
From: Dawn Schiff
Subject: Re: Greetings
Dear Mia,
So today I did something I probably shouldn’t have.
This morning, I knocked on the door to Seth’s office. He was doing something on his computer, and when I showed up at his door, he didn’t smile.
I wasn’t sure how to take that. A lot of the time, I have trouble reading facial expressions. Other people seem to know when another person is angry or sad or happy just based on their face. I have no idea how they do that. If somebody is smiling, I assume they’re happy, but beyond that, I am at a loss. You’re the only person whose expression I can read. Well, and my mother, but that’s an easy one because she’s always annoyed with me.
So I thought there was a chance Seth wasn’t happy with me. I had sent him a few emails recently about my ideas to save the company money, and he only replied with one sentence or not at all. So I figured it was better to speak with him face to face. Except then the first thing he said when I walked in was, “What is it now?”
I don’t know why he said that. It’s not like I bother him a lot.
I sat down in one of the wooden chairs in front of his desk. He was looking at me now, so I went forward and explained once again why it would be wise to implement my plan. While I spoke, he kept running his hand through his hair, which is thinning just a little bit at the top. Not too bad though, for a man his age. He keeps a photo on his desk of his family, and every time I’m in his office, I look at it. It’s Seth and a woman—his wife, I assume. His wife is about his age and sort of plain looking with brown hair and a round face, but she seems like she might be a nice person. She seems like the kind of person we could have been friends with.
When I finally finished talking, he shrugged. It was the same as his email responses. He didn’t even give me a reason. So I asked him. Why? Why can’t we limit spending?