“No, Aria, we’re not cowards. We were never weak. It’s just that when you love someone, you hope they’ll change. Every morning you think maybe today they’ll be better. Maybe today they’ll be the person you know they can be. Your father wasn’t always the way you remember. He used to be a good man—a little rough around the edges, but he always wanted to protect others. Even if his version of protection was distorted.”

I glanced down at my fingernails, chewed and chipped. I remember what changed Owen. How could I ever forget? The night he took a man’s life was the night he gave away his own.

“Then one day, long ago, he did something that changed him . . . hardened him. It ate away at him and stole who he was. Controlling me was his way of reining that in, of feeling in charge of his life again. But it doesn’t work that way. The more you pull someone closer, the more you push them away.”

By the time we reached the station I was utterly exhausted. I collapsed into the metal chair from both mental fatigue and physical malnourishment. I needed to eat something, but my stomach tightened at the thought of food. At least if I ended up in jail I wouldn’t be in there long before I starved to death.

My mind hadn’t stopped running for three straight days, and I had barely eaten or slept since Saturday afternoon after the fight. I now understood the effectiveness of sleep deprivation interrogation techniques, because I would have said anything just to put my brain at ease and take a long, restful nap.

Detective Rossi sat down across from us, his glare unreadable. I could never tell if he was pissed off or pleased, or something in between. I imagined his face would crack if he smiled.

He slapped his usual folder on the table, and the overhead light blinked and buzzed. “So, we got the toxicology report back along with a new development in the case.”

My heart sank like a rock to the ocean floor.

Chapter 42

Mackenzie

TUESDAY AFTERNOON

Detective Rossi slowly opened the folder like it was a performance. I wasn’t ready for the verdict. I needed more time. More time with Aria. More time with my friends. More time for my life. But I had a feeling my time was up.

“It turns out it wasn’t foxglove that killed your husband, Mrs. Fischer. It was cocaine.”

“Cocaine?”

I actually laughed out loud, because the idea of Owen using cocaine—or any drug for that matter—was truly laughable. He was the most outspoken anti-drug person I had ever met. He’d even done presentations at Aria’s elementary school when she was in second grade. She’d been mortified and got teased for two days straight after Owen performed his little skit dressed like a thug offering drugs to the kids.