Page 5 of Long Way Down

“Okay.” Melissa pulled out her notepad and pen with as much subtlety as was possible while seated on a flower-shaped ottoman, and dated the top of the page. “You got home around ten, right?”

“Yeah.” Hannah sniffed, dashed at her nose, and visibly composed herself. Melissa had found that starting small, with concrete facts, had a grounding effect. “I had to stop for groceries, so I was running late.”

“Where do you work?”

“Putnam, Putnam & Lourdes. It’s a law firm.” She made a vague gesture.

“Wow. Pretty swanky.” Melissa had seen their billboards.

“I’m just a secretary. The case my boss is working is taking a lotta extra hours. I usually get to leave at five.”

Melissa made a note. “’Kay. Left late. Stopped at the store. Home at ten. What time does Lana usually leave for class?”

Her next breath stuttered, mention of her roommate bringing her nerves back to the forefront. “Um, like, four-thirtyish?” Her voice lilted up, questioning. “I’m never here when she does. But I know she, um – she comes by after she gets off her shift at the restaurant. Cleans up, changes clothes. Her classes don’t start until six, but she likes to leave early and go by Starbucks. She has a caramel latte and studies with some of her classmates, I think. Um.” She frowned, and looked down at the tissue in her hands, mashing and tugging at it with her fingertips. “She’s told me their names, like, ten times, but I can’t ever remember.”

“That’s fine,” Melissa assured. “Lana can tell us herself later.”

Fresh tears spilled down Hannah’s cheeks, and she rushed to dash them away, nodding.

“Do you know if she was dating anyone?”

Firm head shakeno. “She and Jason broke up weeks ago and she said she was enjoying being single again. They dated for, like, three years. He was suffocating her.”

“Does Jason have a last name?”

“Landry.”

Melissa made a note.

“Wait…” Hannah stiffened. “You don’t thinkhe–”

“We don’t think anything right now,” Melissa assured. “But we have to cover all our bases.”

She didn’t look reassured. “She said Jason was too serious – that he wanted them to get married and have kids. He took the breakup hard. What if he…” She bit her lip, distraught. “Shit, what if itwashim?”

“We’re gonna pay him a visit, for sure, but let’s not assume anything yet. Okay? Was there anyone new in her life? New friend? Study partner? New barista who flirted with her? Anyone that stuck out to her?”

“She didn’t mention anyone.” Hannah massaged at a spot above her brow. “But we’ve both been so busy we haven’t had time to catch up much, ya know? God, I can’t…”

“Hannah,” Melissa said, firmly, “nothing that happened is your fault, okay? Take a deep breath. It’s alright.”

Hannah shook her head, because it most definitely wasn’t alright, but she inhaled and visibly pulled herself together. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, you’re doing great. Now, this next part is the hardest, but if you can, I need you to tell me exactly what you saw when you came home earlier tonight.”

Another big breath; the tissue was pressed into a tight cube between fingertips gone pale with strain. “Okay,” Hannah said in a small voice, then cleared her throat and tried again, head kicking back to a brave angle. “The knob was locked, but not the deadbolt or chain. I remember that. I had to shift the groceries” – she mimed the action – “to get my key in the lock. When I got inside, I took my shoes off at the rack, there.” She pointed to the entryway. “And I came in here…” She frowned, thinking. “The lights were off. I tripped on something – almost fell. I caught myself on the wall, there. And I said, ‘Lan, you here?’ She always left the lights on, and it usually smelled like her shampoo – it’s lavender – when I walked past the bathroom door. But it was dark, and she…” She gulped. “I hit the lights, and I saw her.” She nodded to the center of the room, where techs were taking clear tape to the twisted throw. “There.”

“She was unconscious?”

“Yeah.” Hannah started shaking all over; her teeth chattered. “There was all this blood – on her head, in her hair. I thought – at first I thought she was–” She closed her eyes a moment, and tried unsuccessfully to get her breathing under control. “But I could hear her breathing. I called 9-1-1. And I…” She ducked her face and wiped at it with jerky movements. “I didn’t do anything for her,” she whispered. “I should have…maybe if I had…”

Melissa didn’t know if physical touch would be welcome in this instance, only knew that she herself wouldn’t have wanted it. Was assaulted, briefly, by the sense-memory of her mother’s nylon dress against her face, the too-rich scent of her perfume, the sounds of choked-back tears overhead, as the adults whispered that it could have been her instead.

So she said, “Hannah,” as warm and firm as she could. “You did exactly right, okay? You called for help, and you didn’t tamper with the scene. Lana’s at the hospital right now getting looked after, and Detective Contreras and I are gonna figure out who did this to her. We’re gonna get him.”

Too late, she recalled her captain’s warning from her first day: never make a promise to a vic or relation; don’t open the department up for accusations of negligence.

It didn’t seem to matter, though. Hannah didn’t respond.

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