“They have CCTV footage that shows Quinn’s husband hitting my car while I was getting your coffee.”

Frank sank down on a kitchen chair. “They have it on camera? Or he told you that they have it on camera? Did you actually see it?”

“No. But—”

“They were fishing.”

“I didn’t tell them about the hit-and-run. Someone called it in.”

“Right. The serendipitous anonymous caller. Next they’ll be selling you a bridge.”

“Even if they don’t have it on video, all they’d have to do is go to the coffee shop and talk to—”

“You have no idea what they’re looking at or who they’re talking to because you’re the last person they’d tell. This is serious, Emmy. You’ll get yourself in deep shit if you’re not careful. Please.” He pointed his finger at her. “Don’t talk to the police again. Not alone. Understand?”

Emily always found that tone and the finger-pointing irritating, not to mention Frank’s cocksure attitude. He was always right and she was always wrong. Though at this moment he probably was right. She swallowed her annoyance. “They’re going to let me know when I can come back for the car.”

“Just to get your car?” He got up, opened a bottom kitchen cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of Maker’s Mark. Got down a glass and poured an inch. “You watch. They’re not done jerking you around. They’re going to try to get more out of you.” He knocked back the bourbon and grimaced. Smacked the glass down on the table and pointed the mouth of the bottle at Emily. “Please, please, the next time you talk to the police, take me with you.” He poured another inch of bourbon into his glass and slammed the bottle down on the table. “And if I’m tied up in court, make them wait. So what if they end up impounding your car? Better that than impounding you.”

Frank opened his mouth, about to continue his rant. Instead, he froze. Blinked, and shook his head. “What am I doing?” he said. “None of this is your fault. It makes me so angry when the police use their status to manipulate . . . to con unsuspecting people whose worst sin has been to try to be helpful. People who take what they’re told at face value. And here I am”—he stood, his expression softening—“taking it out on you. I’m sorry,” Frank said, and pulled Emily into his arms. “I’m really sorry.”

Emily surrendered to the hug and a wave of self-pity. She closed her eyes. For the moment, at least, she felt sheltered and safe.

“I’m sorry you’re having to deal with all this,” Frank said. “And I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” His reassuring words were warm in her ear. “I love you so much, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”