“Yes,” Paula said, shifting in her seat. She cleared her throat. “Look, I think maybe we got off to a bad start. I’m not…”

“Not what?” Claire asked, leaning forward, and she watched as the woman flinched.

“I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?” Claire said again, and she heard Greg chuckle, just slightly, under his breath.

“No, you don’t understand,” Paula said. “It’s not what it seems like. I have a—”

“Husband?” Claire asked, and she watched all the blood drain from the woman’s face. “I know you do, Mrs. Wilson,” Claire said. “You’ve been saying that since you arrived.”

The woman swallowed, a slow, nervous motion, and then her eyes darted up quickly to the clock.

“That’s the reason we’re supposed to believe everything you’re saying, right?” Claire asked, and she couldn’t help smiling a bit. “We should believe you because you have a husband, and let me guess—you love him very much?”

• • •

When she was gone, Greg walked with Claire back to their desks.

“Are you sure that was a good idea?” he asked. “Letting her go like that?”

“Yes,” Claire said. “I don’t think she’s a flight risk. She seemed genuinely scared about this break-in, and that part can be corroborated pretty easily. For now, I need you to find out what you can about Paula Wilson.”

Greg nodded and started to walk out. “Oh, by the way,” he said, pausing to turn back. “I’m pretty sure she said ‘Wileson’ when she first walked in. Not ‘Wilson.’ I kept wondering if she was going to correct you.”

Claire raised an eyebrow and then smiled slightly, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think she was,” she said softly. “Okay, Paula Wileson. I want to know absolutely everything.”

Chapter 28

Paula

Three days after

As I took a cab away from the police station Tuesday night, I wondered if it was my imagination or if the two cops really had been incredibly suspicious of me.

Maybe that was just the way detectives acted?

Maybe I was overthinking it?

I tried to shake it off, but deep down, I knew going there had been a terrible idea.

For what felt like the tenth time that week, I vowed to lay off the alcohol.

Instead of going home, I had the cab drop me off at Emma’s apartment building. I needed to talk to her, to get her to admit that Hooks had been at the apartment the other night, and to tell her about the break-in. I didn’t know how much I would tell her about what I’d done, but I needed somebody to tell me I wasn’t crazy.