Half an hour later, Officer Graham came through the door. She looked like she’d been up all night. Her hair was standing on end, she had circles under her eyes, but when she approached, her smile was genuine.

“Time to go home, Mr. Montclair.”

He stood, hands in his pockets, feeling the tug of his loose waistband sliding onto his hips. They’d taken his belt and shoes when he entered the jail.

“I know you’ve heard that the body we found is not Mrs. Montclair. I was also told you’ve positively identified the rings the body was wearing as your wife’s wedding set.”

He followed her out the door, not speaking, as Robinson had instructed. Graham walked him to the counter where they’d done his intake processing. He wondered if he could ask to see his mug shot.

“We’re not finished, not by a long shot, but for now, Mr. Montclair, you’re free to go. Shirley here will get your things back to you. Your lawyer is waiting outside. There’s a boatload of media, too, but I figured you might want to walk out smiling for once. If you’re able.”

He gave Graham half a smile, accepted his wallet, shoes, and belt from the gray-haired battle-ax behind the counter. Fitted the worn leather through the hoops, slid his feet into his loafers. Stayed silent as the grave.

Graham walked him to the jail door. She pushed it open. A shaft of sunlight and fresh air encompassed him, and he took his first full breath in days.

Against the advice of his attorney, he softly said to the cop, “Thank you for believing me.”

Graham shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I believe you, sir. If you killed Mrs. Montclair, I will find out. And then I’ll nail you to the wall.”

Admit It

ADMIT IT

Paris, France

Sutton didn’t panic, not right away. She just couldn’t believe how quickly it had all fallen apart. She hadn’t even been in Paris a full week, and here she was, at a police station, a murder suspect.

So they knew who she was. That was problematic, but explainable. She prepped the conversation in her mind, for when she was forced to speak the words aloud.

My husband was abusing me.

I ran away.

The new identity is for my safety so he can’t find me. I’ll be in danger if he does.

She listened to Inspector Badeau with half an ear. Deciding she’d wait for a lawyer to be present was self-preservation at its best, but Sutton’s grudging silence hadn’t stopped the woman from talking and talking and talking.

It wasn’t until Badeau said the name Ethan that Sutton tuned back in. My God, had she nodded off?

“Pardon?”

“Madame Montclair, are you listening to me at all?”

“It’s very late. I’m very tired. What were you saying?”