“Look for whatever you want, Detective. Go through my drawers and take samples of my underwear, or whatever perverted thing you have on your mind.”

Walt continued undeterred. “We found blood, urine, and fingerprints in the bedroom of your Catskills home. It will be important to know which ones belong to you, as I’m sure your fingerprints will be found in the bedroom of the home you own. Are you willing to provide fingerprint samples and allow my technicians to swab your cheek for DNA analysis?”

“Am I a suspect in my husband’s murder, Detective Jenkins?”

Walt pursed his lips and opened his palms. “I’m collecting information at this point, Mrs. Young. With any homicide, I ask for samples from the spouse. It’s just part of the process.”

“You look like you just graduated high school. How many homicides could you possibly have worked before this one?”

Walt kept a stoic expression on his face and did not indulge her with an answer.

Tessa finally nodded. “Of course. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“I’ll arrange it for this afternoon.”

She nodded. Walt went back to his notepad.

“When you say you and your husband were trying to make your marriage work, what does that mean?”

“It means we were trying not to get a divorce.”

Walt waited.

“I’m pregnant,” Tessa finally said, as if admitting to a crime. “We thought if we had a child together, it would fix things. At least that’s what I thought.”

Walt closed his eyes a moment. He had perhaps pushed too hard. Still, he noted her pregnancy in his book and then stood.

“I’m sorry to make you talk about all this. I’m just trying to figure out who killed your husband.”

Tessa put a hand over her forehead, as if fighting off a migraine. Walt’s phone rang. It was headquarters calling.

“Excuse me,” he said, as he turned and answered. “Jenkins.”

“Hey, Walt, it’s Ken Schuster.”

Schuster was the lead crime scene technician assigned to the Young case.

“What’s happening, Ken?”

“I was categorizing evidence we collected from the Catskills mansion. There’s something here you need to see.”

Walt walked out of the kitchen, through the hallway, and into the foyer where his conversation wouldn’t be overheard.

“I’m at the Youngs’ residence now, speaking with the wife. I’m about to search the property.”

“You’re going to want to see this. Stat.”

“What is it?”

“We found a thumb drive in the desk drawer of the office. There’s a video on it.”

“What sort of video?”

“Ah, well . . . it looks like a homemade sex tape.”

Walt glanced back into the kitchen. His mind flashed back to moments earlier when Tessa Young described her and her husband’s separate work spaces. The studio was His. The office in the main house was Hers.

“Who’s on the video?”

“Cameron Young and a woman.”