“Did you hear anything before you left to indicate that there was anyone in the house?” Detective Calvente asked. “Perhaps footsteps or a television? Maybe water running?”

Anyone washing off blood? Imani stood before their already unsubtle question could become any more graphic. “I think it’s best for you two to go now.”

Detective Powell rose, revealing the broad shoulders and chest that he’d been trying to conceal. “We don’t have too many more questions.”

Imani mentally cursed her husband for not coming home like she’d begged. He’d been a marine for four years. An armed police officer wouldn’t intimidate him, especially in his own house.

She steeled herself. “Ava has answered enough questions for today.”

Detective Calvente gave Ava an encouraging smile. “I think Ava’s old enough to decide whether she still wants to talk to us. Right, Ava?”

Imani shot Calvente a look that she hoped was a hundred times more withering than the accusing expression the detective had delivered at the door. This woman knew exactly what she was doing, appealing to a teen’s ego, the fervent desire to be seen as the adult that they would become, but were not.

“This is my house,” Imani said.

“And we’re conducting a murder investigation,” Detective Calvente countered. “Ava can decide if she wants—”

Imani faced Melissa’s daughter. “Would you like to talk to them? Or is it time for them to look for your mom?”

Deciding for oneself was empowering, Imani knew. But telling two armed officers how to do their jobs was far more so.

Ava’s back straightened. “I think I’m done for right now. I’ll wait until I see my mother.”

“Ava, we’re trying to find your mother.”

Condescension had crept into Detective Calvente’s tone. The tightening of Ava’s expression indicated that she’d heard it.

“Then find her,” Ava said.

The derision that had been present in Detective Calvente’s voice wasn’t visible in her stance. She rose like someone who’d had a very long day and would endure an even longer night. “I am sorry for your loss,” she said.

The finality of the statement seemed to break Ava. Her lip trembled for a moment before dropping open in a silent scream. Imani lowered to the couch cushion. The detectives had done their damage. It was her job now to repair what she could.

She hugged the girl to her side. “Please, Detectives. See yourselves out.”

“Just one more question, please?” Detective Powell asked, perhaps sensing that he was the one Imani liked more. He crouched to Ava’s level. “To your knowledge, did your dad own a gun?”

Ava turned her head, revealing her tearstained face. She shook her head.

The detectives again communicated silently. A quick side glance and raised eyebrow from Calvente. Pressed lips from Powell. But Imani had caught the micro-expressions, and she knew that they knew.