I caught a glimpse of Gabe walking casually past the entrance. He was wearing jeans and a blue blazer, carrying a pink balloon that said IT’S A GIRL. One of the cops smiled at him and said congratulations. Gabe nodded and returned the smile, continuing past the door. Our eyes met, fleetingly. As he moved away, I caught sight of a beanie sticking out of his blazer pocket. I would’ve laughed if it wasn’t all so completely terrifying.

“Emma? Emma! I’m talking to you.”

We stepped outside, the brisk wind buffeting us as we crossed the parking lot. “Sorry. No, I went upstairs, got my purse, and then I had to go to the bathroom, so I stopped there. And then I came back downstairs.”

“Did you see anyone matching that description come inside?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe they came in the back way?”

“Who were you with? Did they see anything?”

“I wasn’t with anybody.”

Nate studied me, his eyes narrowing. Cop’s eyes. Dead eyes. The ones that showed he had something cold at his core. He could turn it off and on when he wanted to, when he was on the scent of a case. But this was the first time he’d ever looked at me like that.

Nate was cheerful, but he was also a detective, I reminded myself. He was susceptible to suspicion and skepticism. I just had to convince him not to be suspicious of me.

“While it’s always fun being interrogated by my husband, I’d really like to go home now,” I said, letting sarcasm drape my words.

Nate smiled then, an unexpected smile, his good-cop smile. “Just try to remember.”

A crackle of frustration zipped through me, but my phone chimed the arrival of a text before I could reply. It was from my colleague Julia.

I need your help.

I stopped walking so abruptly that Nate’s arm jerked my shoulder socket.

“What is it?” he asked.

I showed him the text. “I think I’ll swing by Julia’s on the way home.”

He shook his head. “Julia’s in a lot of deep shit. You should stay away for now.”

“She’s my friend. I need to go.”

“Why? Once we have that surveillance video, the courts are going to throw the book at her. If you get pulled into a drug case, it won’t look good for you. And it won’t look good for me if my wife is involved in even a hint of a drug case while I’m trying to get a promotion. I don’t want you getting involved.”

I stepped away from him. “Are you telling me I’m not allowed to go to my friend’s house?” I asked, my voice icy.

“Of course not! I’m just saying, think of your career. Think of mine. And if you won’t think of anything else, think of Josh!”