Page 116 of State of Grace (First Family 2)

“I can think of a million ways this could be unrelated to the lawsuit. We’ll do a full investigation, and at the conclusion of that, we’ll hopefully find the person who did this to your husband. In the meantime, I’d suggest you refrain from spouting bullshit to the press that might affect our ability to get justice for your husband. That’s what you want, right? Justice for him?”

“Of course that’s what I want,” she snapped.

“Then let us do our jobs, and keep your baseless theories to yourself.”

“Can you be objective when your prime suspects are your friends?”

“They’re not the prime suspects.”

“I guess that answers my question,” she said bitterly.

“I’d suggest you refrain from venting about them unless you want another lawsuit to deal with.”

“They might have me killed, too.”

Gonzo realized he wasn’t going to get any more useful info from her and decided to cut his losses. “Write down your full name and phone number in case I have follow-up questions. Also write down the names and numbers of the women you were with tonight.”

She took the notebook from him, wrote the information for herself, used her phone to get the numbers for her friends and then thrust the notebook back at him.

“If you know anything about what happened to your husband, Mrs. Thorn, I suggest you tell me now.”

“I told you! I was at dinner with my friends. I don’t know anything.” She began to cry again, her body shaking from the effort expended to project intense grief.

He no sooner had that thought than he realized she was faking it. How he knew that and why he knew it, he couldn’t say. But he was one hundred percent sure she was putting on a show for him.

As he started to walk away, the medical examiner’s van pulled into the driveway. Gonzo went over to speak with Dr. Byron Tomlinson, the deputy ME.

“What’ve we got?”

“One vic in the backyard, possibly bludgeoned.”

“Lead the way.”

Gonzo took him to the body, glancing again at his face and head, which had borne the brunt of the attack. The grass around him was soaked with blood.

“Yikes.” Byron crouched for a closer look, using a flashlight to scan the body from top to bottom. “You took photos?”

“Yes,” Gonzo said. “Do you agree that it seems as if the attack happened out here?”

“I think that’s a safe assumption.”

Byron signaled for his colleagues to bring the body bag and gurney for transport.

The Patrol officer Gonzo had asked to look for the murder weapon returned empty-handed. “There’s a lot of landscaping on this property,” he said. “I looked as best I could, but it was hard to see even with the flashlight.”

“I’ll have Crime Scene take a closer look in the daylight. In the meantime, I want Patrol officers here to preserve the crime scene and provide security. I’m going to ask Mrs. Thorn to relocate with her son.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gonzo returned to Tiffany, whose tears had miraculously dried up. “I’m going to need you and your son to move to a hotel tonight.”

“Why?” The single word was full of privilege and outrage that someone like him would tell someone like her what to do.

This woman was pissing him off. “Because someone killed your husband, and if they come back for you and your son, I’d assume you’d rather not be here.”

They engaged in a visual standoff that he won when she blinked.

“Fine.”

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