“Detective?” For the first time Gabby realized the other woman wasn’t wearing a uniform like the officer beside her. Her black suit in sharp contrast to her pale skin and white-blonde hair. The unusual combination came off as striking.

The detective cradled a glass of water, but her hands didn’t hint at her age. She could be in her forties or fifties. Gabby couldn’t tell. She looked at her own palms. They shook as she turned them over, studying every hard-earned line of her thirty-nine years.

“We know you’ve had a terrible scare, but could you answer some questions?” the detective asked.

Maybe? The visit with Baines came back to her in pieces. Distorted and uneven. Gabby didn’t know if she could trust the flashes in her mind.

Fear. Blood. Baines.

Gabby asked the first thing that popped into her head. “He’s dead?”

The male officer nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Gabby waited for the sadness to hit her, but the haze blanketing her and blunting her emotions, making every memory cloudy, hadn’t lifted. She remembered coming here to fight for time with Kennedy . . . Kennedy! Oh, God. How was she going to tell Kennedy about her dad? Baines doted on her, gave her anything she wanted. This would devastate her.

An anxious churning moved through Gabby. She gulped in air but still couldn’t pull in enough breath. “I need to go to my daughter.”

“First, tell us what happened here,” Detective Schone said.

Trapped. The word spun around in Gabby’s mind. She needed to get through this before she could leave, so she forced her body to sit still. She tried to concentrate on relaying the events even though a few of the words stuck in her throat. “I walked in and saw him slumped in his chair.”

“The door wasn’t locked?” the detective asked.

“I have a key.” A fact Gabby now regretted. “Wait . . . the door was unlocked. I never used my key. Maybe.” She shook her head. “I honestly can’t remember.”

“Okay.” The detective continued with what sounded like a preset list of questions. “Why were you here today?”

“Custody stuff.” The snippets fell into place and a final, horrifying memory flashed in front of Gabby, nearly cutting off her breath. “All that blood.”

“Yes, we believe your husband—”

“Ex.” Gabby grabbed on to the one thing that resonated with her. The only thing she could control. “We’re divorced.”

She forced herself to stop there. She had a habit of babbling when she was nervous or trying to hide something. She didn’t want any thought about the latter creeping in as she talked.

The officers looked at each other before Detective Schone spoke again. “Yes, of course. We’re wondering if you had any indication that something like this might happen. Maybe in his mood, or possibly something he said to you?”

This? The question made no sense to Gabby. “What are you talking about?”