Pink stained Ellen’s cheeks, and Mia sympathized over the fair skin. A giveaway every time. “Off and on,” Ellen said, a shrug in her voice. As if it didn’t matter. But she was chewing on her lower lip, her gaze somewhere on the floor several feet to their right.

“He can attest to your whereabouts for the whole night?” Izzy chimed in, a little more demanding than she had been during their time on St. Lucy’s so far. But she had been shot at.

This time, Ellen met their questioning stares straight on. “Yes.” More resigned and exhausted than anything else.

“Do you mind if we take a look around?” Mia pushed a little, testing to see if the fire that they’d seen only in her parting shot was still there.

“I do mind, Detectives,” Ellen said. “Now tell me why you’re here, arrest me, or leave.”

Their hands were tied to an extent, without easy access to a judge to issue a warrant, and not a whole lot of evidence even if they could reach one. What they had was that Ellen possibly could fit the body type of their intruder and the fact that she looked guilty as hell.

It was clear Ellen knew all that, too. Mia considered her options.

“Look, we don’t care about whatever you’re running from.” Unless it was tangled up in their case. But Mia didn’t add that caveat. “You’re worried we’re going to stumble onto it.” She held up a hand before Ellen could say anything. “You don’t need to respond to that.”

Ellen chewed on her bottom lip, eyes wide. The radiator crackled, grumpy and noisy; a cat meowed from the kitchen, hiding from them; the washer rumbled, struggling with the load that had been running since before they’d gotten there.

And Ellen remained silent. Not refuting any of it.

Mia nodded, once. “Does it have to do with Robert Twist’s death?”

“No.” The whisper was so low it almost got lost to the low buzz of noise from the rest of the house.

“Okay,” Mia said. Izzy hadn’t stiffened at all, and, if Mia had to guess, she would think they were on the same page. Under any other circumstance, they wouldn’t have stopped until they’d arrested whoever was shooting at cops. But if it had been Ellen, the way the bullet had just grazed Izzy even at close range suggested that she’d been aiming for a distraction, not to injure. “Now that we’re clear on that, what can you tell us about Robert Twist’s time on the island?”

Ellen drew in a shaky breath, then rubbed a hand against her eye. The sweatshirt had slipped down enough to cover all but the tips of her fingers. “I honestly don’t know what else I can give you guys.”

“Did he mention an artist who had come to the island?”