I shut the door behind us, glad to be out of the noise. Kim’s usual chirpy self is absent, her dark eyes tear-stained. She plops on the bed and pulls her legs up under her. Laken leans back in the only chair in the room as I pace between them.

“So what the hell happened?” Laken asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I have no idea who would want to hurt Jay.” I swing to face them. “But it’s all my fault.” Sobs burst through my clamped lips.

Kim sits up at attention. “What? No, Molly. How could it be your fault?”

I wipe tears from my cheeks. “I was drinking too much. I just about passed out in our bed.” My gaze meets first Kim, then Laken. “I don’t even remember you guys leaving. I didn’t know what to say when the detectives asked me about it.”

“You were pretty trashed—”

Kim’s mouth pops open. “Lake!”

“I didn’t mean to imply it was her fault. That’s not what I meant.”

I shake my head. “It’s all right. But if I hadn’t been drinking, I might’ve heard something. I might’ve been able to help Jay, at least call 911.” I drop my arms to my sides. “I slept through my husband’s murder. I’ll never forgive myself.” I walk to the window, lean on the sill, and look down on the gray evening, watch the traffic crawl by under the streetlights. The story of my life, letting people down.

Kim’s arm steals around my waist. “You got your period?” she asks quietly.

“Right before the party. Jay found me crying in the bathroom.” I take a deep breath.

“We figured,” Laken says as she stands on my other side, rests a hand on my shoulder. “We knew you wouldn’t be drinking so much if there was a chance.”

“Another twelve thousand dollars down the drain,” I say. Then it dawns on me that Jay and I will never raise a child together. We’ll never have another chance. We’d been in our third cycle of IVF, and we were so hopeful. “Jay gave me everything, and I couldn’t even do the one thing he really wanted.”

My friends lead me back to the bed, and we sit on the side.

“Oh, Molly, that wasn’t your fault. Jay never blamed you, you know that,” Kim says.

I nod, wipe my sleeve over my eyes. No, he didn’t. Jay understood everything. Knew everything about me and loved me anyway. And now he’s gone.

CHAPTER 8

Rita

MONDAY MORNING, CHIEF BOB MURPHY ASSEMBLES THE TEAM IN the conference room. We’re like those proverbial sardines in here as this is a complicated case, lots of forensics involved. At least we’ll stay warm. And someone, thank God, has seen fit to bring in takeout coffee and pastries instead of the usual station coffee and vending machine fare. Chase and I stand against the back wall, hot paper cups in hand, while the chief and a couple of uniforms are busy at the front of the room.