Page 53 of The Lies I Told
“I’ve ruined a few pairs of shoes at jobsites,” I said. “Mud, rain, splashed wedding cake, even blood—the hazards of nuptials.”
His scowl softened as he nodded toward the front door. “I’m on my way to court, so you’ll have to walk with me to the parking lot.”
I followed him out the front door and down the sidewalk, the cold air tunneling between the buildings on Grace Street. My long legs worked fast to match his pace. “Are you running late?”
“Always.” Eyes ahead, he fumbled for the key fob on his ring.
“Why did you give me the copies of your case notes?”
He didn’t break stride, and he didn’t look distressed. “I didn’t.”
“Who would’ve had access to your personal files?”
He clicked the remote, and the lights of a black, unmarked Crown Vic flashed. “I’ve no idea.”
I shook my head. He was the kind of guy who knew more than he let on. “You know.”
He opened the door, paused for a moment, and then shook his head. “I don’t.”
“They were left outside my apartment door along with my accident report.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Calmly, he shrugged off his jacket, opened the back door, and slid it onto a waiting hanger. Slamming the door, he settled behind the wheel, turned on the engine, and rolled down the window.
I glanced around, making sure no one was watching. “Of the people you talked to, who do you think was lying to you?”
A humorless smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he pressed his foot on the brake and started the engine with a push of the button. “Everyone lies to cops. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. Even if it’s about something small that has nothing to do with the case, they lie.”
“You think the people you interviewed about Clare’s case were lying.”
“Like I said, everyone lies about something. Even you.” When I didn’t respond, he clicked his seat belt in place. “What were you doing the night Clare died?”
They are all lying.
I could’ve asked him about the email, but he’d deny it just as he had the files. “It had nothing to do with her death.”
“Didn’t it?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“Who’s to say I didn’t?”
“Right.”
I gripped the strap of my purse. “It’s always complicated.”
“Murder is generally not complicated, Marisa. Revenge. Lust. Greed. When it’s all said and done, the underlying motivation is one of those three.”
I stepped closer to the car, making it impossible for him to close the door. “Of the three, which one do you think it was?”
“The autopsy proved she’d had sex, but there was no vaginal bruising.”
“We know she was sleeping with Kurt. And he had a solid alibi.”
“As I’ve said before, your straight-arrow sister was dressed like you that night. She has sex with Kurt, but what if she ran into someone else who thought she was you? Maybe she resisted and was killed for it.”
I drew in a breath. “The killer thought she was me.”
