Who Did I Kill Last Night？

My husband is sleeping with my own sister. Cliché, right? I drove to Black Pine Lake to catch them, but stumbled into a brilliantly twisted murder trap instead. Now, the cops think I am a jealous, psychotic killer. Declan believes he dug the perfect grave for me. But did he?

——

"Where were you between eleven p.m. and one a.m. last night, Mrs. Nadia?"

Detective Vance sat in my living room.

He wasn't in uniform. His dark brown trench coat made him look like an exhausted salesman, but his eyes were locked onto me like a bloodhound's.

My hand holding the coffee pot paused for a single second.

"At home, Detective."

I poured the steaming black coffee into a mug and slid it across the coffee table toward him.

"It was raining heavily last night, so I went to bed around ten-thirty."

"Did something happen?"

I forced my tone to sound perfectly bewildered and slightly annoyed—the appropriate reaction for someone whose morning had been abruptly interrupted by the police.

But, of course, I knew exactly what had happened.

11:40 p.m. last night. The abandoned pier at Black Pine Lake.

Rainwater mixed with blood slipped down my raincoat.

Gripping a heavy landscaping stone, I brought it down—once, twice—hard against the back of the man's head.

He was wearing that black cashmere coat I knew all too well, the silver watch I had given him strapped to his wrist.

He didn't even manage a scream. He simply went limp, tumbled over the wooden railing, and plunged into the freezing lake with a heavy splash.

That was my husband, Declan.

He was having an affair with Corinne—my own sister, who had always coveted my life.

I couldn't stomach the betrayal, much less the fact that he was preparing to strip away everything I owned.

So I killed him.

"A body was found at Black Pine Lake."

Vance didn't touch the coffee. He leaned forward.

"A male body."

"Fatal blunt force trauma to the back of the head. His face smashed against the rocks when he fell in. Completely unrecognizable."

I gasped and covered my mouth.

"My God... that's horrible," I murmured.

"But what does this have to do with me? Why are you asking me?"

Detective Vance looked me up and down.

"We found something belonging to your husband, Mr. Declan, not far from the crime scene. A black sedan. The license plate is registered in his name."

My heart rate accelerated.

Of course I knew the car was there. I had left it there on purpose. I needed the police to think it was an accident, or a robbery gone wrong.

"Declan?"

I bolted upright, my voice shrill with panic.

"He said he was staying late at the office last night..."

"He hasn't come back yet!"

"Could it actually be—"

"No! That's impossible!"

Tears instantly welled up in my eyes.

"Detective, please tell me it isn't Declan! He couldn't have been at Black Pine Lake. He swore he was at the office..."

I buried my face in my hands, letting my shoulders heave violently.

Vance opened his mouth to speak, but a set of slow, measured footsteps echoed from the staircase.

"Darling, what's wrong? I heard you crying."

The voice was lazy, deep, and thick with sleep.

My blood turned to ice.

I snapped my head around.

Declan, dressed in his silk pajamas, walked down the stairs holding a glass of water.

His face was flushed with warmth, not a single scratch or bruise on his forehead.

He was alive?!

My mind went completely blank.

If Declan was standing right here, then who the hell did I kill at Black Pine Lake last night?

"Mr. Declan?"

A flicker of astonishment crossed Vance's eyes, though he quickly masked it.

"You were home last night?"

"Of course."

Declan wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

His palm was entirely too warm, yet it made my skin crawl with ice.

"I got back around ten last night."

"Nadia was already asleep, so I crashed in the guest bedroom."

"What's going on?"

I stood rooted to the spot, entirely rigid.

Out of the corner of my eye, just beneath the collar of his pajamas, I caught a glimpse of a razor-thin red scratch.

"A body was found at Black Pine Lake."

Vance's gaze flicked back and forth between us.

"And we found your car nearby."

"My car?"

Declan knit his brows. His look of confusion was absolutely flawless.

"That's impossible."

"My car is parked in the company's underground garage."

"I had a few drinks, so I took a cab home."

"Is that so?"

Vance pulled out a clear evidence bag, revealing a bloodstained button inside.

I recognized it instantly.

It was a button from Declan's black cashmere coat.

"That is my button."

Declan's expression remained perfectly calm.

"But my coat was stolen at a coffee shop yesterday afternoon."

"I even filed a complaint with the barista."

"Detective."

Declan patted my shoulder, gazing down at me tenderly.

"Whoever died out there, it has absolutely nothing to do with us, right?"

I looked up, meeting his gaze.

Deep within his eyes, I caught a fleeting, bone-chilling glimmer of amusement.

"Yes."

I heard my own voice reply, dry and hollow.

"It has nothing to do with us."