When she called the number listed on the profile, it went straight to voice mail. “You’ve reached Emilia Lopez with the Immigrant Community Legal Office. Today is Tuesday, June 22. I will be meeting with clients for the rest of the afternoon. Leave a message at the tone, or if this is an urgent matter, press zero for a receptionist. If—and only if—you are an existing client and are facing the threat of imminent detention by immigration authorities, press three to be connected to my cell phone.” Lindsay was tempted to press three, but she knew it would immediately put her on a bad footing with the woman she was desperate to talk to.

After the beep, she left her name and number, explaining that she was a lawyer in New York City. Before disconnecting, she added, “It’s about your brother, Alex.”

When she returned to the cottage, she rapped her knuckles gently on the door, doing her best to pretend that she had not just disposed of two critical pieces of evidence in a murder investigation.

When Decker opened the door, she handed him the box of muffins she had bought at Carissa’s. “Have you finished up yet? My client is happy to answer any fair questions as long as she has counsel to represent her.”

Lindsay, of course, would be the one to determine which questions were fair.

“Is she? That’s good to hear.” He turned his head and spoke in Hope’s direction. “Let’s start with, What do you know about the death of Richard Mullaney?”

“Don’t answer that,” Lindsay called out, pushing past Carter so she could see Hope, still seated in the corner chair, her cuffed hands on her lap. She searched Hope’s face for any sign of recognition. A flicker of light in her eyes, followed by a blink. Had Lindsay imagined it? Or maybe it was a blink of confusion. “And what kind of ambush is this? First you don’t look for her after she got attacked by a stranger, then you turn it around and hold a press conference where you basically accuse her of murder. Now you pull some other name out of a hat?”

“It was a simple enough question. If the name means nothing to her, that’s all she needs to say.”

“On my advice, my client is invoking all her Fifth Amendment rights.”

“Yep, that’s pretty much what I thought,” Decker said. “Hope Miller, you are under arrest.” He moved quickly toward Hope’s chair and pulled her to her feet. She began screaming. “No. Please. Stop!” In case there was any doubt that her custodial status had changed, he unlocked her handcuffs only to resecure them more tightly behind her back. Hope winced as he wrenched her shoulders together.