Lila watched him go. “I’m afraid I underestimated your husband.” She got the milk from the refrigerator and poured an inch into her cup. “Either he’s much tougher than I ever imagined, or he’s a superb liar.”

25

AT TEN, FRANK drove Emily to the police station to get her car. He stuck to the speed limit, slowing when the lights turned yellow. But his manner was anything but calm as he pounded the steering wheel and issued orders, getting louder and more emphatic the closer they got to the police station.

Just go in there and get your car.

Do not think for a moment that the police are just trying to get at the truth.

Do not trust them; they make things up.

They want information and they’ll do whatever they need to do to get it.

And most of all (he said this three times), Check with me before you say anything.

He kept looking across at her, making sure that she was paying attention. How could she not? She folded her arms across her chest and waited for him to run out of steam. She didn’t need him to remind her not to trust the police.

Sergeant Stanley was in the lobby waiting for them. “And who’s this?” he said, eyeing Frank in his power suit.

“Frank Harlow,” Frank said. He offered his hand to Stanley, who was at least a head shorter than him. “Attorney.”

Stanley shook the hand and gazed up at Frank, appraising. “Harlow?”

Emily felt her face flush. “Frank is my husband.” She glanced at Frank, realizing she’d already broken a rule, speaking without Frank’s say-so, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Stanley’s gaze shifted to Emily. “Lawyered up?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Interesting.”

“I’m just here to pick up my car,” Emily said. “My husband drove me.”

“Of course. Right this way, please.” Stanley wheeled around and led them into the back, down the hall and downstairs. Walter Newell’s Audi was still at the far end of the basement. Its front fender, bumper, and right headlight had been removed. Emily’s car was parked nearby with portable lights and a rolling workbench set up alongside.

“The keys?” Frank said.

Stanley faced Emily. “Don’t you want to know what we found when we examined your car?”

“I—” Emily began. She looked at Frank.

“She just wants her car,” Frank said.

Stanley ignored him. He crouched beside the back of her car. “We can tell that your car had some recent body work.” He pointed to the back where Lila had spotted the crude repair. “Very recent. And traces of paint we found on the front bumper of Walter Newell’s Audi match your car’s.”

“You told me he hit me,” Emily said. “You said you had it on surveillance.”

“Why were you in the Square?” Stanley asked.