Page 6 of Over the Edge

“Same answer. But James Robertson was home. He must have turned it off.”

Not necessarily. The murderer could have gained access prior to Robertson’s arrival.

The question was how.

“Other than you and the owners, are you aware of anyone else who has the access code?”

“No. And mine was unique to me. To all users, I assume. Ms. Robertson was very clear that their system tracks the codes entered and they could find out if anyone visited without an invitation.” Her shivering intensified. “Are we almost f-finished?”

“For now. But let’s talk a little more about the person you saw in the kitchen.”

“I don’t have anything else to say. As I told the officer, they were covered head to toe. I gave him a description of the clothing.”

“How tall would you say this person was?”

“I don’t know.” A puff of cold air materialized in front of her face as she blew out a shaky breath. “My view was from an odd angle, and I only saw the full figure for a handful of seconds.”

“Best guess.”

Twin furrows appeared on her brow. “Using the Sub-Zero fridge they passed as a gauge, maybe five nine or ten?”

On the tall side for a woman, but the perpetratorcouldhave been female.

“Any hints about gender?”

“No. The coat was unisex and almost knee-length. The feet were kind of large”—her frown deepened—“but now that I think about it, the boots were more like overshoes rather than real boots. The kind some people wear to protect their shoes in bad weather.”

Or to mask footprints at the scene of a crime.

And they tended to be bulky, so the size of the foot didn’t provide much of a clue to gender, either.

“How long after the person came out of the bathroom and left through the back door did you call 911?”

“A couple of minutes. I wanted to make certain they were gone.”

Jack flipped his notebook shut. “We’re done for today.”

“Would it be possible for me to get my knife roll? It’s on the coffee bar in the kitchen. I have a client who’s expecting me this afternoon.”

Until the cause of death was determined, her knife roll wasn’t going anywhere.

“Sorry. You’ll have to do without the knives this afternoon. And you may want to reschedule your client.”

“Why would I do that?” She brushed back a wind-whipped strand of hair that had escaped from her barrette.

Instead of responding, he shifted his attention to her hand.

She followed his gaze to her quivering fingers. Clenchedthem into a fist. Let her hand drop to her side. “They’re counting on me.”

“In light of the extenuating circumstances, I doubt they’ll mind eating pizza or takeout for a few nights.”

“But I have all the ingredients in my car.” Her chin rose a hair. “And I try not to let people down.” Her comment lingered in the cold air as a shadow passed over her eyes.

What was that all about?

Since the answer to his question wasn’t pertinent to the investigation, Jack moved on. “Speaking of your car—we’ll need to look at it.”

Her face went blank for a moment before shock replaced confusion. “Am I a suspect?”

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