“I know you thought he was having an affair with Lisa Warwick when she was killed. And then, of course, Peter Crane was arrested. Peter and Steve were friends. That was hard on him. He just seemed to withdraw more and communicate less.”

“You and Marissa were friends, right?” Vince asked.

Sara shook her head. “I knew who she was. I didn’t try to get to know her until last April or May.”

“After you already believed Steve was involved with her?” Mendez asked.

“Yes. I wanted to know ... If he was in love with her, I wanted to know why. Why her? Why not me?” she asked, the pain in her voice so raw, Mendez wanted to take her in his arms and hold her.

Vince shifted his chair a little and leaned forward, still holding Sara’s hand, his knees now almost touching hers. She gave him her other hand, wanting the contact, needing to feel Vince’s strength.

“It’s okay, Sara,” he whispered. “You hang on to me as tight as you need to, honey, all right?”

She was almost doubled over from the emotional pain. Mendez left his chair and squatted down beside her so he could hear her. He braced a hand against the back of her chair. He wanted to reach up and wipe the tears from her cheek.

“Steve wasn’t in Sacramento last Sunday,” she said. “I don’t know where he was. I told him last night that I knew he wasn’t where he said he was. And he got really angry, and he said to me, ‘Do you think I was with Marissa? Do you think I was stabbing her forty-seven times and cutting her throat?’”

The hair went up on the back of Mendez’s neck. He and Vince locked eyes.

“Is that exactly what he said to you, Sara?” Mendez asked.

“Yes. He was trying to scare me. I didn’t even know who he was when he said those things.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I just wanted him gone,” she admitted. “I just wanted him to leave. And Wendy was so upset—”

“Did Wendy hear him say that?” Vince asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what she heard. I thought she was upstairs in bed. Steve was shouting at me, and suddenly she came in the room and hit him and screamed at him that she hated him. It was awful. I just wanted him away from us.”

“And he left?” Vince said.

“Yes.”

“Do you know where he is now?” Mendez asked.

“I don’t know. He could be at work. He probably is. It’s raining. He can’t golf.”

Mendez got up and left the interview room, going across the hall to the break room where Dixon and Hicks stood watching the closed-circuit television showing the interview.

“Has that information been leaked to the press?” he asked. “The number of stab wounds?”