“Mrs. Newell?” Sergeant Stanley held open the counter for Quinn and Ryan to pass through. “This way, please.” Emily was worried about how Quinn’s I’ve got your back would play out under Stanley’s relentless questioning. When push came to shove, would Quinn throw Emily under the bus?

As Ryan escorted Quinn across the lobby, he spotted Emily. He came over to her, bent down, and rested his hand on her shoulder. “You missed a great game,” he said quietly.

Emily recoiled from Ryan’s touch, remembering the feel of his hand on her behind. And if it had been such a great game, then why had he left early? He backed off, hands raised in mute surrender, and said, “I’m only here because Frank asked me to help out.”

Frank had asked him to help out? As if.

Please, Emily thought, don’t do us any more favors. Without Ryan’s referral, Emily never would have met Quinn Newell and she wouldn’t have gotten tangled up in this mess.

Ryan returned to Quinn, leaving behind a wake of aftershave. Quinn dabbed at her eyes and steadied herself. Attached once again to Ryan’s arm, she followed Stanley past the front counter. She turned back to Emily for a moment and signaled a covert thumbs-up. Stanley’s speculative gaze anchored for a few moments on Emily before he turned and followed Quinn and Ryan.

23

“SO YOU JUST answered their questions and left your car there?” Frank said after he got home that evening and Emily told him what had happened. “Really?” He took off his suit jacket and threw it on the back of a kitchen chair. Loosened his tie and whipped it off, then unbuttoned the neck of his shirt. Lila had greeted him and then disappeared to rest and take a shower, or so she’d said.

“What was I supposed to do?” Emily said. “He told me I had to—”

“He who?”

“Sergeant Stanley.” Emily opened the oven and took out a lasagna she’d frozen more than a month ago. She removed the foil and put the pan back in to let it brown, then turned on the fan over the stove and opened the back door. It was too hot for lasagna, but it was what she had. “He’s the same officer that Quinn and I talked to after the police found her husband’s car.”

“Stanley. Short guy with a lisp?”

“Shortish. No lisp. He told me if I didn’t leave the car voluntarily he’d impound it while they waited for a court order.”

“That is such pure and utter bullshit.” Frank cracked his knuckles.

Emily choked up and her eyes filled with tears. “I tried to call you.”

Frank slid his phone from his pocket. “Shit. Battery’s dead. I was in court all day, or else I’d have noticed. I still don’t get why they took your car.”