As calmly as Hope had followed Lindsay’s instructions not to answer questions, she clearly had not processed the reality that this moment might come. Her expression was panicked, and when her gaze finally met Lindsay’s, she looked desperate for a solution that couldn’t be offered. “Help me. Lindsay, I don’t have anyone else but you.”

They loaded Hope into the back of a marked police car in front of the cottage. She looked like a dog being taken away to a shelter as the car pulled out from the curb. Lindsay wiped her eyes with the back of her hands before waving for Detective Decker’s attention in the front yard.

“I need to get back inside that house. Your rash and unnecessary decision to take her into custody makes it imperative that I be able to do my work.”

“Not here, you won’t. The warrant authorizes a search for trace evidence, which means I’ve got a team in there pulling latent prints—well, you know the drill. We might be done in time for you to sleep there tonight, but I’m not making any promises.”

“You’re disrupting my ability to provide effective assistance of counsel.”

He opened the door to his black Charger and climbed in. “Guess them’s the breaks when you set up shop in a murder suspect’s residence. Oh, but if you want your muffins back . . .”

She stepped closer to his open door and leaned one arm against it. “So who’s Richard Mullaney?”

Decker gazed up at her and shook his head. “Damn, she’s really got you fooled.”

29
Tuesday, June 22, 6:10 p.m.

Based on Lindsay’s experience defending clients before in Suffolk County, she knew that Hope was being transported to the East Hampton town police station, where she’d be placed in an interrogation room. Contrary to the criminal procedural rules of one-hour network dramas, Hope would not have the right to bring Lindsay into the room with her. Her only protection under Miranda was to have a lawyer present if the police actually interrogated her. Because Hope had already invoked her right to counsel, police, instead of questioning her, would leave her alone in silence. They’d let her imagine spending an entire night in a jail cell. They’d let her wonder what evidence they might have against her. Maybe she’d “happen to overhear” them speaking to each other about the strength of their case. In short, they’d wait for her to crack.

If she did—if the suspect herself initiated the conversation—then all bets were off. They could try once again to get her to waive her Miranda rights. But one thing they definitely would not be doing was calling Lindsay to the police station.