I’d carried the weight of Clare’s death for so long. Having the answers hadn’t eased the burden, but I sensed in time, it would fade. The doors opened, and we stepped onto my floor. “I owe you wedding pictures.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ll be offended if you don’t let me.”

An almost smile tugged his lips. “Sure. That would be nice.”

I stepped into the apartment to see the crime-scene powder dusting many of the hard surfaces in the kitchen. Thankfully the glass had been cleaned and the tequila wiped up.

“I had the team in while you were in the hospital. It’s a bitch to clean up, but we found Jack’s prints on the counter and on one of the glasses. Give me time. I’m interviewing David this morning. I’ll build a case against them both.”

“Can they get away with this?” The fear had been stalking me for hours.

“No. The evidence is growing.”

“You said yourself a good defense lawyer can get around what you have so far.”

“We’ve come too far, Marisa. They won’t get away.”

“Let me talk to David. If he talks to me about Clare, you can use that, right?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Marisa.”

“I know. But you might need me. I can talk to him.”

“We’ll see.” He looked around the apartment as if satisfying himself it was clear. “Can you manage alone?”

I looked back at the door and the bright shiny brass locks. “I can. Thanks.”

“Lock the door behind me.”

I jangled the keys in my hand. “Will do, boss.”

When he left, I turned each lock and chain, and only when the last was thrown did his steps echo down the stairs.

I walked up to one of the remaining pictures and stared at the misty landscape. “We did it, Clare. We did it.”

52 MARISA

52

MARISA

Tuesday, March 22, 2022

10:00 a.m.

I arrived at the Richmond City Jail the next morning to find Richards waiting for me in the lobby. He was dressed in his going-to-court suit, and he’d polished his shoes. “Marisa. Did you sleep well last night?”

“All things considered, I did.” I hadn’t gotten a full eight hours, but the sleep I did get was more restful. “Where’s David?”

“He’s in holding now. Already has a lawyer. You were right. He’s not talking, and Jack is sticking to his story. Unless I can get him to talk, I won’t be able to hold him for more than twelve more hours.”

“But you’re testing his DNA.”

“It’ll take more than a positive DNA test and the picture he bought from you to hold him. Neither is a crime.”

“She was underage.”