The thought of a shower, a fresh diaper for Grace, snuggling together under a blanket on our sofa, sounded like such sweet relief that it took a moment for the poison to hit my system.

Refrain from speaking to the press.

Not the press. Not again.

CHAPTER

16

I HELD BACK MY questions, not wanting to ask in front of the detective, even though my anxiety was rising. Alondra walked me out into the lobby, and then I turned to face her. “What about the press?”

Alondra’s mouth was a grim line. “Sooner or later the news will get out. Reporters will contact you.”

“But I don’t even know what happened.”

“I know.” Alondra put a hand on my arm. “And as soon as I can tell you more, I will.”

“So I’m supposed to just go home and wait?”

Alondra looked apologetic. “Actually, right now the police are searching your house.”

“What?” Anger flooded me. That detective had said I could go home, but she must have known I couldn’t. “Why?” My box of paper stars, the postcards from Aimee, Grace’s nursery, all being touched and tossed about by strangers. “I want to see Michael.” My words quavered, but the longer he was away, the more I ached to see him, to know he was safe.

Alondra lowered her voice. “That’s not going to be possible this minute. Right now, he’s assisting the police.”

“Alondra, what happened? I have to know. There was blood, and I saw Brady—”

She glanced around the room as if confirming that no one was too close to us. I’d never seen Alondra cautious or tentative, but it was one more unsettling thing in a nightmare series of events. “You can’t talk about this, not with anyone. Not your mother, not your doctor, not your priest. Do you understand?”

I nodded, barely registering what I was promising. Nothing mattered but Michael.

“The police have arrested Brady for murder.”

My insides went hot, liquid. Brady, my best friend’s husband. Brady, who’d never really put me at ease. But Michael had worked next to him in our yard, relaxing in his presence the way I did around Lena. Had Brady taken advantage of that trust? “The blood—what happened? Who’s dead? Michael didn’t do anything.”

“I can’t tell you about Michael’s statement, but it resulted in the arrest.”

“But Michael’s okay? They haven’t charged him?”

“They haven’t charged him yet.”

“When can I see him?” I could hear the pleading sob in my voice, but I didn’t have the energy to be ashamed.

“He’s not here. He’s gone with the police to walk them through the crime scene.”

The crime scene … “Lena’s house?”

“And he’s given permission for them to search your house as well.”