“You push her back?” Joe asks, leaning forward.

Ferris shrugs. “A little, okay? She had a hold of my arm. I didn’t hurt her.”

“Then what happened?” I ask.

“I put the first load in the trunk of my car, but when I went back to get the rest, she’d locked the door.”

I look over the paper. “She says she was scared of you and that you’d harassed her with phone calls after that and tried to break into the house.”

“I didn’t harass her.” He grimaces.

“Did you try to get back into the house?”

“Once, but then she got the order, and I gave up.”

“You said she was ill, died not long after. Why not just wait?” Joe asks, eyebrows raised.

“The stuff was mine. It belonged to me, and I wanted it. I didn’t realize she’d get so worked up about it. Once she took out the order, I let it go, okay? That was the end of it.”

I tap my pencil against my notebook. “You sure you never left the mountain house on July Fourth?”

His eyes open wide behind his glasses. “No. We all stayed at the house that night. Someone suggested we drive over to some local fireworks, but we decided not to go.” He shakes his head. “I had nothing to do with that woman’s death, if that’s what you’re getting at.” His gaze meets mine.

“I heard there was a lot of drinking. You didn’t get a little inebriated? Didn’t go out looking for a little excitement after everyone was asleep?” I stand and lean against the door. “Maybe you met Annalise and things got out of hand?”

Mr. Ferris’s eyes flash. “No. No fucking way are you going to pin this on me.” His face reddens. “It wasn’t one of us. Just because she was found nearby doesn’t mean anything. Anybody could’ve dragged her down that hill.” He turns to Joe. “Somebody could’ve buried her there just to make it look as though one of us did it.”

“Maybe,” Joe says mildly, shrugs, goes back to his notes, then drops his pen on the table. “You hear anything that night?” His gaze meets Ferris’s. “Maybe you heard or saw something that could help us find the real killer.”

“I don’t know anything. I didn’t do anything.”

“Then you won’t mind giving us a DNA sample? Just to eliminate you.”

Mr. Ferris’s mouth falls open. “I think I need to talk to my lawyer before this gets out of hand.”

“Of course,” Joe says.

“You sure?” I ask. “It’s quick and easy. Then we won’t have to bother you again. Come on, Mr. Ferris. What are you afraid of?”

He jumps to his feet, perspiration running down the sides of his face. “I’ll get back to you. I need to get home to my family.”