I looked down. The text was hazy through the plastic cover. “I— What?”

He reached over and tapped a line on the page.

I blinked and the words came into focus: Law Clerk, the Honorable Wendell Arnold, Judge of the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit. “What is this?” I said. “This isn’t my résumé. I never clerked for Arnold.”

“No,” Cruz said. “You didn’t. But your boss did, and you knew it would get your foot in the door if you said you did, too.”

The second shoe dropped. Here was the someone who was framing me. My boss. I tossed the packet of résumés aside. “You got these from Barrett, didn’t you?” I could see it all now. Barrett coming to the police with the doctored video and the made-up résumé, serving my motive up on a silver platter.

“Nope,” Cruz said. “We found them in our search of your apartment this morning.”

I stared at him. “That’s impossible.”

“A whole stack of them, right there in your dresser drawer. Your husband—or ex, whatever—he was very helpful. He showed us where you keep your papers.”

My hands trembled, making my wedding band wink against the light. I pulled them off the table and folded them in my lap.

“He told us you ditched your laptop. But it looks like you forgot to get rid of the printouts.”

“My laptop? I didn’t ditch—”

“The judge is dead. You thought you’d never get caught, but your boss found out you lied.”

“No, it’s Barrett who’s lying—”

“He told Ms. Carter-Jones to fire you. That’s why she came into the office last night.”

“No—”

“That’s why you were crying outside her office. You were wrecked. After all you’d been through. Trying so hard to succeed. Working eighty-hour weeks. And with your marriage breaking up, and living in that awful apartment, and over a million dollars in debt. You were desperate for this job. It was the only thing that could save your marriage. It was the only thing that could save you.”

“It mighta worked,” Riley said, “if Barrett didn’t stumble on the truth about Judge Arnold.”

“So you got fired,” Cruz picked up.

“It musta been awful,” Riley said.

“And only got worse when you got trapped in an elevator with the same woman who fired you.”

They were tag-teaming me, and I shook my head wildly as my gaze darted from one to the other.

“And you killed her.”

“No! That’s not true. I didn’t lie on my résumé and I didn’t get fired. I had absolutely nothing against Lucy. And even if I did—I’d have to be stupid to kill her in a stalled elevator.”

“Or a genius,” Cruz said. “If you could convince us it was suicide.”

“If you killed her in the office, you knew it would look like murder,” Riley said. “But in a stalled elevator? You could go with the panic-attack story.”

“I had no idea the elevator was going to break down!”