A sharp pang in her temple kept Melissa from answering. She rubbed the side of her head with the hand unattached to a suspended plastic bag and glanced at the needle that the nurse had placed in her arm before slipping from the room.

“I gather that Tonya had been involved with my husband at some point.” Melissa cleared her throat. “Perhaps under duress.”

Detective Calvente’s eyebrow rose.

“You would have to speak to her or her bartender friend Micky, who informed me of my husband’s indiscretions. Apparently, Nate had been using his position to influence young actresses to begin romantic relationships.” Melissa smirked at the last part. Romantic was such a poor euphemism for fornication.

“So he thought Tonya…” Detective Powell trailed off. He knew what she was getting at, Melissa thought, but he wanted her to say it.

“My guess is he thought Tonya could be blamed for the murder. She was a pissed, abandoned lover, or something. I don’t know. I gather that he thought the police might not believe that I’d left my child.”

Detective Powell looked up from his notes, clearly wanting some sort of justification. Why would Philip believe that the police wouldn’t accept Nate’s wife had killed him?

“Imani never thought I was guilty,” Melissa said. “He knew she’d keep harassing you about my innocence until you looked deeper. He wanted an excuse that his wife would accept.”

As she finished her answer, Melissa spied a shadow in the doorjamb. Imani stood in the hallway. Melissa saw her hair first, curls turned frizzy by the events of the past twenty-four hours. A flash of bronze skin followed. Imani’s expression registered moments later.

If Melissa had researched an image for bittersweet, she would have found her friend’s face. Imani wore a smile, happy to see her alive and well. But there was so much pain behind it.

Melissa raised her good arm and motioned for Imani to come closer. Tentatively, her friend crossed the threshold. Detective Calvente glared at Imani over her shoulder. Detective Powell raised his pen over his notepad.

“Do you think she ever suspected what Philip did?” he asked.

Melissa stared at the door and Imani’s big brown eyes, filling with tears. “No,” she said, more certain than ever. “My best friend saved me as soon as she figured it out.”

The detectives seemed satisfied by the answer. They retreated toward the exit, giving room for Imani to enter. She tentatively approached the side of Melissa’s bed, perhaps unsure whether it was too early for visitors.

“How are you?” she asked.

Melissa raised the hand with the IV. “Better now that I’m drinking.”

Imani smiled. The situation was too serious to laugh. “I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t know.”

Melissa reached out with her good hand and grabbed her friend’s palm. “I know you didn’t.”