Chapter 2

Vance wasn't about to drop his interrogation over a few casual words from Declan.

He sat back down on the sofa, pulled a mini voice recorder from his pocket, and pressed the record button.

"Let's get the facts straight." Vance's tone brokered no argument.

"Mr. Declan, you claim you took a cab home at ten o’clock and that your coat was stolen this afternoon. We will verify those records. But before we do, there’s something else you both need to explain."

Vance turned his gaze to me.

"Mrs. Nadia, you said earlier that you went to bed at ten-thirty, correct?"

"Yes." I met his gaze, my hands clasped tightly together, my nails digging into my own flesh.

I had to control my expression.

"Then can you explain why we lifted your fingerprints from the railing of the pier at the crime scene?"

Declan’s arm around my shoulder stiffened, his muscles instantly pulling taut.

He hadn't seen this coming.

My brain kicked into overdrive.

The rain was heavy last night. I wore gloves, but when I pushed the man, the fabric snagged and tore on a wooden splinter.

I was too panicked to notice I had left a trace.

This was damning physical evidence.

Denials and excuses were useless; the moment Vance ran a print comparison, the lie would shatter.

"How is that possible?" Declan demanded, his voice thick with anger. "You must have made a mistake. Nadia was with me all night!"

"Mr. Declan, forensics doesn't make mistakes," Vance cut him off coldly, his eyes dead-locked on me.

"Mrs. Nadia, I'm waiting for your explanation. If you refuse to answer, I can arrest you right now as a murder suspect."

The air in the room froze. How should I answer?

I took a deep breath, and let my shoulders slump.

I unclasped my hands, buried my face in them, and let out a muffled sob.

"I'm sorry... I lied."

I looked up, my eyes rimmed with red.

I looked at Declan, my gaze brimming with agony and resentment.

"I did go to Black Pine Lake last night," I said, my voice trembling.

Declan's expression shifted, and he dropped his arm from my shoulders.

Detective Vance leaned forward. "Go on."

"I suspected Declan was having an affair." I bit my lower lip.

"For the past few months, he’s been coming home late, always reeking of a strange perfume."

"Last night he said he was working late, but I checked his phone's location and found his car parked near Black Pine Lake."

I paused to observe Vance.

"I was furious and scared. I drove our other car up there, hoping to catch him red-handed." I gave a bitter smile as a tear slipped down my cheek.

"It was dark out there, and the rain was terrible. I walked onto the pier, but I didn't see anything."

"Nobody was there. I leaned against the railing and cried for a while, feeling like an absolute lunatic. Then I went home."

I turned to glare at Declan. "You weren't back when I got home. I thought you were in that woman's bed. Until this morning..."

It was a half-truth.

I admitted to being at the scene, acknowledged the fingerprints, and threw out a motive of jealousy.

I used a moral flaw to cover up an actual murder.

Vance fell silent.

"What time did you get to Black Pine Lake?" Vance asked.

"Around eleven-thirty."

"How long were you there?"

"Less than twenty minutes. I was freezing, so I left."

"You didn't see anyone? Didn't hear anything?"

"No."

Vance flipped his notepad shut. "Your confession is valuable. But it doesn't clear you of suspicion."

"I don't even know who the victim is!" I raised my voice. "I just went there to confront my cheating husband. I didn't kill anyone!"

"We're still confirming the victim's identity." Vance slipped the voice recorder back into his pocket. "Until then, I must ask that neither of you leave the city."

Vance walked to the door and glanced back.

"By the way, Mr. Declan. You said earlier you got home at ten o’clock, while your wife claims you weren't here when she returned at eleven-thirty."

"One of you is lying."

The door shut with a heavy thud.

Dead silence consumed the living room.

I could feel cold sweat soaking through the back of my shirt.

I looked at Declan.

He walked over to the minibar, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and turned around, eyeing me with an entirely unfamiliar gaze.

"Brilliant performance, darling." Declan raised his glass, the corners of his mouth curling up. "You played the insanely jealous housewife to perfection. Even I almost bought it."

"What exactly did you do, Declan?" I asked coldly.

"What did I do?" Declan let out a soft chuckle as he stepped right up to me. "You ought to be asking yourself—who exactly did you bludgeon to death at Black Pine Lake last night?"

My breath hitched violently in my throat.

He knew.