“Mrs. Harlow?” Stanley rose up on his toes and hooked his thumbs into his belt. “I understand you’re back? This time to give a witness statement?” All business, he escorted her to a small room with a table and four chairs. He pulled out a miniature recorder from a drawer and placed it on the table between them.

“Tuesday, August sixth, three twenty-three p.m. Sergeant Brian Stanley with Emily Harlow.” He stopped and played back the recording. Satisfied, he pressed RECORD again. “In your own words, can you describe what happened this morning when you arrived at Inner Peace Storage at 1501 Washington Street in East Hartwell, Massachusetts?”

Emily reached across and shut off the recorder. “I thought this was supposed to be a written statement.”

“No problem. If that’s what you’d prefer.” He reached into the desk, pulled out a form, and pushed it across the table to her. “I was going to have someone transcribe your statement and have you sign it. Easier that way. But if you prefer to write it out yourself . . .” He offered her a pen.

It would be easier just to tell him what happened. “Okay. You threw me. This isn’t what I was expecting.” She waited until he’d turned the recorder back on, then began. “I left my house this morning at about nine-thirty. It was raining.” She described her arrival at the storage facility, watching the manager break open the unit, and the moment she’d noticed the rug rolled up under the workbench and realized what it was. She ended with, “We immediately called the police.”

“Thank you,” Stanley said, nodding. Emily rose to her feet, thinking she was done, but he motioned for her to sit back down. “Just a few more details that we’re hoping to get straight. Don’t want to have to ask you to come back.”

Emily didn’t like the sound of that. She waited, perched on the edge of the seat.

“Can you describe your whereabouts and actions going back to Sunday afternoon?”

Sunday afternoon? Why was he asking her that? “I thought this was about what happened today.”

“That, and we’re trying to tie up a few loose ends. We believe that you spent part of Sunday—late afternoon and evening—with the victim’s wife. Is that correct?”

Emily nodded.

“Can you speak? For the tape.”

“I did.”

“And we know a witness reported that his car was involved in a car accident that same night in the Square. He hit your car. Would it surprise you that we have that on CCTV?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “You didn’t report the incident to the police? Why was that?”