“You’re awfully calm for someone who just found her husband shot, Mrs. Rhodes,” Johnson said quietly.

“I’ve had a terrible shock,” I protested weakly.

“Women who have terrible shocks become hysterical,” he said dismissively.

“We should interview the neighbors behind,” Tucker said quietly to Johnson. “They might have seen something.”

“Yes,” I said, turning to look at their yard. Henry had gone that way, I was suddenly sure of it—and then he’d be only a minute or two away from his own house. “But you should go now, in case he tries to escape.”

“Mrs. Rhodes. I would think someone in your position would know better than to tell an investigating detective how to do his job,” Johnson said abruptly, then turned his gaze to Klaus. “Can the children stay with you and your wife, sir?”

Klaus hesitated, his gaze darting to the house. I knew he was wondering if Claudia would approve of this request.

“Don’t worry, Klaus. I’ll call Avril Walters,” I suggested uncomfortably. I was a little wary of her now, but she was still the only friend I had in Huntsville. “I’m sure she will watch them while I sort this out and while…” My throat tightened. “Just until I make sure Jürgen is okay.”

Avril was at the house minutes after I hung up. She had a scarf tied over her rollers and her face was bare, but she’d pulled on a pretty floral sundress. Two uniformed police officers arrived and were watching me as I paced the dining room, and when I heard her car in the drive, they followed me as I went to meet her at my front door. She immediately pulled me into a tight hug.

“What on earth is going on?”

“I don’t know how to explain,” I said numbly. “Could you just take the children for today? Jürgen is in the hospital, and I think the police want to…” I sucked in a breath, thinking about cold concrete cells and days of no sunlight. “To question me.”

“Oh, honey. Of course.”

“You’re Mrs. Walters?” Johnson said, approaching us.

“I am, sir,” she said calmly.

“I’ll speak to you alone before you go. Just need to confirm a few details.”

She gave me a wide-eyed look as she turned to follow Johnson into Jürgen’s study.

“Ma’am,” one of the uniformed officers said. “We’re ready to take you to the station now.”

They left me sitting in the interrogation room at the station alone for over an hour. I was desperate for news about Jürgen—more concerned with his health than my present situation, and that was saying something. The shock had worn off, and now it was a mammoth task to keep myself from spiraling into a panic over memories of the last time I was in an interrogation room.