In her absence, he leaned back in his chair and tried to massage the bias from his brain. There was a big difference between being attuned to suspicious behavior and trying to shoehorn some narrative into a predetermined judgment of guilt. Rose Yates was innocent until someone other than Colin said otherwise. It was just his job to ask some questions.

But…goddamn it. There was guilt in the air, he was sure of it. Maybe it wasn’t even her. Hell, the whole house felt guilty.

When she returned, cup in hand, Colin decided to be more direct with his questioning.

How would you characterize the relationship between you and your husband?

Were you having issues?

She replied with mild offense, but it had an air of desperation to it. Trying too hard, Colin thought. She said all couples had issues, and she and Riley were no exception. He poked and prodded into this as best he could, but she put up a wall he couldn’t penetrate.

Then he’d told Rose he’d read all her books.

“Well, that makes an even dozen of you now,” she said.

“I read them back-to-back,” Colin said. “Real quick, like two days each. And each one got better. More suspenseful, you know? You can really see how you were progressing as an author. Your main character, Jenna Black, she doesn’t get boring. You keep her fresh.”

Rose took a moment, then leaned forward toward him. Body-language experts would deem it a subtly aggressive move. “This is the part where you tell me the thing you really came here for.”

He matched her posture. “Well, now, Rose. I’m not trying to make things sound so sinister or anything. And you, having interviewed so many cops with all your research and all, I’m sure you can appreciate that something in your books made me a little curious.”

“The Broken Child.”

“Correct. Your third book. Or I guess I should say J. L. Sharp’s third book. You can understand why a scene where an abusive husband is poisoned by his wife might arouse some interest.”

“Riley wasn’t poisoned. It was an accidental overdose.”

Colin scratched the back of his hand though it didn’t itch. “Still, you can see where that scene piqued my curiosity a bit. Piqued. That’s the right word, isn’t it?”

“Detective, if I were guilty of all the crimes my characters have committed, I’d be on death row a hundred times over.”

He held eye contact and she didn’t back away, though she seemed to want to look anywhere but his face. “Oh, sure. I’m well aware of that, Rose. Like I said, I’m not trying to spook you. This is pretty routine stuff. But I wouldn’t be doing what the citizens of Wisconsin pay me to do if I’d not followed up with a couple of questions. Want to be thorough.”

He’d tried to slip back into a folksy charm but it was too late. The cloud that passed over Rose’s face assured him so.