And I’d been too quick to assume victory. I hadn’t convinced them yet. I wasn’t exonerated, and the case wasn’t closed. They were simply sticking a pin in it for now.

I was due back at work in a few hours. Everyone there would soon know that Lucy was dead, and they’d soon hear that I was the only one with her when she died. If they didn’t also hear suicide and case closed, I’d have to get through the day with a storm cloud of uncertainty hanging over me. And what if the detectives changed their minds? They could swoop in and arrest me at the office, probably during the pitch of morning arrivals or evening departures when the maximum number of coworkers would be there to watch them snap on the handcuffs and march me to the elevator. I wouldn’t even get to clear out my desk this time. As humiliating as it was to be marched out of Jackson Rieders five years ago, this would be a million times worse. No, free to go wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t leave until I heard the words that mattered: exonerated, not a suspect, simply a witness to a tragic suicide—any of those would suffice.

“You know what?” I sat back down. “I think I’ll stay.”

Cruz looked flummoxed.

“You may think of other questions,” I said. “I may remember additional facts. Either way, I’ll be here.”

He tilted his head to one side. “I gotta ask. Why are you being so accommodating?”

“Because I have nothing to hide.”

He wasn’t buying it. “Your run-of-the-mill bystander has nothing to hide, either, but they can’t wait to get out of here. After what you’ve been through, I’d think you’d be champing at the bit to go home. So how come?”

He seemed sincerely curious, so I answered him sincerely. “Because it’s a zero-sum game, right? There were only the two of us in that elevator. If she didn’t do it, then I did. The second that gun went off, it became my job to convince you that I didn’t do it.”

He shook his head. “The burden of proof’s always on us. Come on, Counselor. You know that.”

“Not this time. This time the burden’s entirely on me.” I folded my hands on the table like I was putting down stakes. “As long as your investigation’s still ongoing, I’m staying right here.”

He winced a little. “It could be a long night.”

“I’m used to long nights,” I said.

Chapter 8

December 19, 2013

It was good to be nervous, I decided, because nervous energy was better than no energy at all. I’d put in a full shift at Cubby’s bar the night before, gotten home at four, and tossed and turned, waiting for David to stumble home before I finally fell asleep. I should have been exhausted, but nervousness triggered adrenaline, and adrenaline kept my eyes open and my feet moving briskly out the door and up the steps to the street. It was a ten-minute walk to the Metro-North station and a forty-five-minute train ride to White Plains, and I stayed awake and on edge through it all.