Page 45 of The Last Invitation

“Attacker. Singular, as far as we can tell, and she can remember.” The detective shook her head. “And no sign of a break-in.”

“I locked the door.” Gabby knew she did.

Liam winced. “Are you sure?”

“Yes . . . maybe?” During the divorce she had trouble concentrating and would check and recheck stuff like that. Did shelock the door? Did she leave the stove on? Did she close the refrigerator door? She lost all trust in her ability to do mundane things. Her therapist back then had suggested specific routines for her to use every time she did those tasks and eventually those let her break free from the obsessive cycle of doubt. At least as to that issue.

More awkward silences. “Liam, I’m...”

“You should stay at my house until we’re sure your place is safe,” he said at the same time.

She wanted to say yes, to not be alone, but they had too many issues to work through, and Kennedy didn’t deserve endless rounds of yelling and disappointment.

“I don’t think that’s...” Any other time, she’d fall into uncomfortable babbling. Now she could barely form a sentence. “Maybe... we could...”

He shrugged. “Kennedy is there, and—”

“Your daughter is at his house?” the detective asked.

Liam nodded. “Yes.”

“Temporarily,” Gabby rushed to add.

“What’s going on with you two?”

Before Gabby could make up a reasonable answer, Liam stepped in. “Is there a right way to act when you lose your brother, and your sister-in-law is attacked?”

“Former. She’s yourformersister-in-law.” Detective Schone turned her attention back to Gabby. “You claim your husband was killed. You were attacked. Your ex’s business is in financial trouble. You see where I might be concerned about the cumulative impact of all those circumstances?”

Liam made a strangled sound. “There are financial irregularities at the business, and I reported them.”

“You mean you implicated your brother,” the detective shot back.

The conversation had shifted to a new place. One with a malicious edge, and Gabby didn’t know why. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Just making conversation.” The detective moved the curtain and stepped outside of the protected area. “We’ll talk again.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jessa

Jessa held her second cup of tea in front of her like a precious crystal. She downed the first as soon as she took a seat in Retta and Earl’s impressive dining room. From the built-ins to the chandelier, the room screamed elegance and sophistication, in contrast to Jessa’s dirty jeans and fraying T-shirt.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Retta stepped inside. Every woman Jessa knew came home from work, sloughed off the dress clothes, and found something old and soft to slip into. Comfy clothes. If Retta owned those, she hid them. Today’s outfit consisted of a sleek black pantsuit and green silk blouse. Perfect hair, with just the right number of thin bracelets and a brooch on her lapel.

“You’re here.” Relaxed or not, Jessa enjoyed a rush of relief. She stood up as if the queen had entered the room.

“I live here,” Retta said in an amused voice.

“Yes, of course.” Even with the degree and the career, Jessa’s self-assurance shrank in Retta’s presence. She fell back into therole of overeager mentee, desperate for advice and acceptance. “Over the last few days, everything—”

“Jessa.” Retta held up a hand. “There’s no rush. Sit down and drink your tea.”

Right.Calm and dignity. She could pretend to possess those. “Earl let me in.”

“I’m aware,” Retta said as she sat at the end of the table, off to Jessa’s left.

“He knows...” Jessa struggled to find the composure she needed to get through the next few minutes. The string of shaky days dumped her in a dark place that she dug and clawed at but couldn’t climb out of. “I mean, of course you talk, so...”

---