“The electricity had been restored by the time you came downstairs. You walked down the steps, turned into the dining room, and that’s when you saw the body hanging from the rafters?”

“Yes,” Bri said.

“There were storms earlier that day, but there were no reported power outages in the area. Someone must have flipped the breakers.”

Bri’s mouth fell open in surprise. “I didn’t realize that,” she said, sounding humble for the first time all night.

“What woke you at three in the morning? That’s one thing you haven’t explained,” the detective said, glancing down at her notebook. The pages were mostly blank, the book itself more for show than anything.

I keep it all up here, her father used to say, tapping a pen on the side of his head.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’ve never been a very good sleeper. Most nights at home, I suffer from insomnia. I’d had too much to drink, like I said earlier, so I got up and went downstairs for some water.”

“And you saw no one else in the hallway or downstairs?”

Bri shook her head.

“And you’re sure nothing in particular woke you? No sounds?”

Bri shook her head again. “Not that I’m aware of.”

Internally, the detective was screaming. She felt like she was getting nowhere, circling around a drain.

“Would you like something to drink right now, Bri? You do look really thirsty.”

Bri groaned.

“I drink too much alcohol, okay? And I got drunk a lot this weekend. I also abuse my anti-anxiety meds. But that doesn’t mean I hurt anyone.”

Detective Smalls held up her hands. “I agree with that, Bri. My father had an alcohol problem too. That’s not what I’m implying here.”

Bri chewed her lip. “I do remember seeing Tinsley right before I went to bed. Her room was next to mine, and we gave each other a look before we went into our rooms. I think we were all just ready to go home. The party started out disastrously and ended in much the same way.”

“Obviously, it was a disaster. That’s putting it mildly. Someone has been murdered,” the detective said, narrowing her eyes. Bri reminded the detective of her mother, Elizabeth. Cold and calculated, at times, focused only on how things affected her.

“I know that someone was murdered, okay? And I feel fucking terrible about it! I’m just saying that shit was bad before whoever killed her struck,” Bri explained.

The detective needed to switch gears again, reestablish some sort of rapport with her suspect. Lack of sleep and frustration weren’t getting her anywhere…

“Your mother said you were upset because of her cancer diagnosis. I can imagine you were pretty stressed out about that this weekend. She said you had just found out, you and your brother.”