Page 2 of Twisted

“I won’t be much help, sir, but I’ll do whatever I can to…to…”

Her breathing hitched with the new force of a fresh wave of sobs. Gritting his teeth, he let a sigh slip through his flared nostrils, flicking his eyes up to Layla, who shook her head. It seemed no one thus far was convinced the wife had any hand in this.

“Mrs. Hale, can you just relay for me what happened this evening?”

Nodding and sniffing, she began, twisting her used tissue into dust.

“Carter ran out of soda for his scotch, ya see. I won’t lie to a gentleman, and I won’t lie to the authorities,” she began, dabbing at her kind eyes again. Tensed, Shawn waited. Filling the gaps of silence was something nervous people did, and in those gaps the truth often seeped forth.

“I found out a while ago he was seein’ someone on the side. It crushed me, but we’ve been to counseling. I felt…like we were really healing, sir…from the inside out. And then my Carter told me he was ready for kids. He was…God, he jumped up and down like a boy on Christmas when I came out with that test,” she said with a reminiscent smile. Shawn nodded, scribbling down his notes and observations.

“And then what, miss?”

“I’m home all day, you see, but tonight I finally had a burst of energy, and Carter needed his soda, so I figured why not take a trip to the store to make my favorite mock chicken dish? Only thing that’s sounded good to me at all lately.”

“How long were you gone?”

“Carter gets home from work around five-thirty. I left around six and was back by seven.”

“An hour, then?”

She sniffled again, tucking her silky hair behind her ears.

“Yes, sir.”

“And when you came home?”

She swallowed hard enough for everyone around to see.

“I came in through the garage, asking if he would help me carry in the bags. He didn’t answer, so I figured he was on a call or showering. But…when I…”

She began to breathe harsh, shoulders tense and rising with the force she exuded to hold back her sobs.

“He was…in the kitchen…right where he had been making his drink when I left,” she said, shaking her head as a sob wracked her.

So far, Shawn had motive; the affair. He also had the fact that there was no sign of forced entry. He watched, giving her a wan, sympathetic smile, but all the while his mind buzzed with the thousands of possibilities.

“I rushed to him, not thinking clearly, you know, and I grabbed him and tried to find where…where he was bleeding…but…but…”

At this point, poor Maisie Hale was inconsolable. Officer Layla hushed her with kind words and more tissues, but Shawn wasn’t done. His soft brown eyes did a lap around the room. The entire house was sparkly clean, not a trace of dirt or dust anywhere. So unlike his own home, so lived in and bursting at the seams with two kids, two dogs, and a school teacher wife. This home felt cold, clinical.

“Do you work, Mrs. Hale?”

She wiped at her nose and shook her head gently.

“No, sir. Carter always wanted to support a family. He likes things in order, you see. I help him keep books sometimes, but he’s so busy I just want to make his life easier…”

Shawn noted the use of present tense, as though Maisie still believed her husband alive. It implied she truly wasn’t the heartless murderer who’d shot him in the head. But Shawn would not be deterred from scoping out the truth.

“Anyone in his line of business that would want to hurt him?”

Maisie blinked at him, eyes so round and glossed she looked dazed.

“No, sir. He’s loved by all his associates. They all play golf, and we all go to Redeemer Lutheran down the road.”

Shawn made note of the church, intending to dig further there.

“Just a few more questions. The woman he was having an affair with…do you know her?”

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