Page 55 of Until Hanna

“Do you remember what time you arrived home?”

“I don’t know the exact time. I landed at Heathrow at 4:20 p.m. and took the train. I also stopped at the grocery store, so I want to say around 5:30, but it could’ve been a little before or after that.”

“Do you have proof that you were on the plane at that time or a receipt from the store?”

Proof, that one word causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end, and she wraps her hand around my thigh.

“Yes, I’m a flight attendant with London Air, but I don’t remember if I got a receipt at the store.” She looks at me. “Did you see one in the bags?”

“I didn’t.”

“That’s okay. What store did you stop at? I can check the video.”

“The one in Paddington Station.” Her fingers dig into my thigh. “I’m…” She shakes her head. “I’m a little confused why you need to verify that information.”

He stops writing and focuses on her. “I got a call from the coroner this afternoon, and he is not convinced that the injuries Mrs. Lewis suffered could have occurred from just falling down the stairs.”

“What?” she breathes, and I cover her hand. “What does that mean?”

“We’re trying to figure that out.” He looks between her and me. “I asked Josh who cleaned up the blood in the stairway, and he said he didn’t know.”

“I did,” I cut in. “Hanna didn’t want Mrs. Lewis’s sister to have to see that when she got here.”

“And you are?”

“Her boyfriend.”

“Do you live here?”

“No, I got in late last night.

With another nod, he begins to write again, while Hanna sits statue-still at my side.

“How long have you lived here?” he asks Hanna, her fingers still digging into my skin.

“Almost two years.”

“And Josh?”

“He and his friends just moved in a couple of weeks ago. They were doing some work for Mrs. Lewis and staying here while working on the house.”

“How do you think she and her nephew got along?”

“She loved him, and from what I saw, he was very sweet with her.”

“Did she have any problems with anyone?”

“No.” The one word is instant. “Everyone loved her.”

After writing for another moment, he looks up. “When you got home yesterday, was the door open?”

“No, it was locked.”

“Are you sure?” He studies her closely.

“Yes, I remember having to use my key to get in.”

“Did you notice anything out of place?”

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