“Were you here, Ms. Alworth?”

“No. I wasn’t,” she says.

Is she angry? I can’t always tell that about my big sister. She sounds angry a lot of the time. But she’d had other plans. I clutch my left forearm and work my fingers over my sleeve.

“Okay, Mrs. Bradley. You got up. Your husband wasn’t in bed. Then what did you do?”

“I came downstairs, and I saw the office door was open. He said last night that he was going to do some work after everybody left.”

“So he went out there last night?”

“Yes. That’s what he said he was going to do.”

“What time was that?” Sergeant Simmons’s round, moon-like face is slack, patient, and I want to answer his questions. I want to be helpful, but anguished thoughts skitter through my brain like birds I can’t catch.

“I don’t know. Late.”

“He always work late at night?”

“Yes, actually, he does.”

“Okay. Did you lock the doors when you went to bed?”

I honestly don’t know. My recollection is cloudy. We’d really had too much to drink. I’d had too much to drink. I barely remember walking up the stairs, and I’m suddenly cognizant of clumpy mascara sticking my lashes together, the gummy, unpleasant taste in my mouth. I hadn’t even washed for bed.

I choke on a sob, clear my throat. “I think Jay did.”

“But you don’t know?”

Sergeant Simmons tries to catch my gaze, but I can’t look at him. I don’t want him here. I don’t want my house filled with police officers touching our things, writing reports. I want Jay at the stove, flipping pancakes. Me beside him, frying bacon. I want to go back to yesterday. I shake my head, wipe my face with a tear-stained tissue.

“So you woke up this morning. Saw your husband wasn’t in bed. Went downstairs to investigate and saw the office door open? Then what?”

“I ran across the yard to look for him.” Corrine places a box in front of me, and I grab a fresh clump of tissues. I’m all snot and tears, as though I’m dissolving.

“Take your time, Mrs. Bradley.”

I draw a deep breath. “I went into the office and saw Jay on the floor. His neck . . . he was dead.” I drop my head to my chest and cry. Corrine’s arm tightens around my shoulders.

I hear the buzz of voices. Other cops talking to Simmons. Then they move off.

“We’re almost done, Mrs. Bradley. We’ll need a list of everyone who was here at the party last night, okay?”

I try to meet his eyes and nod. Jesus. Do they think one of our friends did this? That’s not possible.

Corrine rubs my shoulder. “We’ll work on it, Officer. I’d like to get my sister something to drink. And she needs to get into some warm clothes.”

“Take your time.” He rises from the table. “We’ve got a forensics team on the way.” He calls a female officer over. “Connors here will help you guys out, so you don’t touch anything that might be important.”