When they stopped in front of the imposing Roland Park colonial, she saw that Anderson’s car was already there. Kate bolted out and walked as fast as she could up the steps to the front porch, wincing as a pain shot through her ankle. She pressed the doorbell over and over, until a uniformed servant opened the door, just as Harrison reached her side. “Mrs. Hathaway is waiting for you in the living room,” the young woman said, escorting them in.

“You poor thing,” Georgina said, holding out her arms and pulling Kate into a hug. “You must be just devastated.” She turned away from Kate and gave a haughty look to Detective Anderson. “I still don’t understand why you’re here. I’ve already told you everything I know.”

“Where is Annabelle? I need to see Annabelle,” Kate blurted out.

“She’s fine, Kate,” Georgina said. “She’s in the playroom. My maid is with her. She’s having a lovely time playing with Selby’s old dollhouses. Don’t you worry. You just sit yourself down on that sofa and warm up by the fire.” She pointed to the sofa nearest the fireplace.

Kate shook her head. “No, I want to see her.”

Georgina pressed an intercom button and spoke. “Bring Annabelle downstairs.”

A few moments later, Annabelle stood at the top landing. “Mommy!” Relief flooded Kate as Annabelle came running down the steps to her. “Mommy, Miss Lucy and I are playing dollhouse. Come see.”

Kate gave Annabelle a tight hug before smoothing her daughter’s hair while she stared at her face for a moment. “You go back and play, sweetheart. Mommy will be up in a little while.”

Georgina smiled at her. “See? Everything is fine. Now sit down.”

Kate remained standing. “Why did you—”

Anderson cut her off, giving her a warning look. “Please, Dr. English. Let me ask the questions.”

Anderson stood by the fireplace, his elbow on the mantel. “Some clarification, really. Did you go to the Michaels house the night Lily Michaels was murdered?”

Georgina raised her chin, her eyes steely. “Of course not. Why would you ask me that?”

“Your driver has come forward and told us he took you there.”

“Th-there m-must be some mistake,” she stammered. “He must have the day wrong.”

“There’s no mistake, Mrs. Hathaway.”

“I most certainly did not see her that night.” Georgina looked at Kate. “The detective just told me that Blaire is the one who started a fire at your home this morning. I never liked her. That girl was trouble from the very beginning, Kate. She came between you and Selby. Selby and I lamented that fact. She was never the sort who would fit in with us. She was jealous of Selby, jealous of your friendship. As I said, I never liked her.” Georgina’s voice dripped with disdain.