Page 48 of Over the Edge

How could she, when she didn’t even know he’d left or where he’d gone?

“No.”

“Do you mind if I wait for him inside?”

Yes, she did. But how could she say no without adding to any suspicions this detective already harbored about her husband?

“I guess that would be okay.” She closed the door and slid the chain free of the lock, her brain shifting into high gear. She had to warn Chad. Give him a chance to prepare for the unpleasant surprise waiting for him in their living room.

“Thanks.” The detective entered as she eased back to give him access.

“Um ... why don’t you have a seat?” She motioned toward the couch in the tiny living room. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” That would give her an excuse to retreat to the kitchen, grab her cell from the charger on the counter, and escape to the bedroom to call Chad.

“No, thank you. I stopped for a caffeine fix on my drive here.” Flashing her another smile, he claimed a seat on the sofa.

“I think I’ll get a cup for myself and change. I, uh, like to sleep in on Sunday. That’s why I’m wearing this.” She plucked at the edge of her robe.

“No problem.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Don’t hurry on my account.” He propped an ankle on a knee, his casual posture suggesting this was a friendly visit.

But it wasn’t.

Something else had happened to implicate Chad in the Robertson murder.

Something bad.

She knew that as surely as she knew her husband had secrets he hadn’t shared with her since this nightmare began.

He’d have to share them now, though. Didn’t matter what he told this detective. He couldn’t pretend to her anymorethat everything was fine. She wouldn’t let him. She was done waiting for him to initiate a conversation on the subject.

Dara slipped into the kitchen, snatched her phone out of the charger, and slid it in her pocket. Coffee was a low priority compared to calling Chad, but she filled a mug anyway before escaping to the hall.

Just as she reached the bedroom door, the front knob rattled.

Chad was home!

She spun around and sped back to the living room.

The detective stood and faced the door as her husband pushed through. “Good morning, Mr. Allen.”

Chad reared back as if he’d been struck, panic spiking in his eyes.

“The detective arrived a f-few minutes ago, Chad.” Dara took a step forward as she tried to keep breathing in a room that suddenly felt airless and claustrophobic.

Their visitor’s demeanor remained calm and impassive. “I have a few more questions for you, Mr. Allen.”

“I told you everything I know the day of the murder.” He fisted his hands at his sides.

“I’m here today to talk about a more recent development. The stolen jewelry you gave your friend Pop.”

Her husband’s face lost several shades of color, and he groped for the edge of the open door.

Dara’s stomach coiled into a knot. “Chad? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” He closed the door.

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