The German Wife(117)

“I’m sorry to interrupt your morning,” Detective Johnson said. I remembered him from his previous visit. He looked uncomfortable this time. Beneath my thighs, my fingers twitched. “I have some terrible news, Mrs. Miller. Jürgen Rhodes was shot this morning.”

“Shot?” I gasped, feigning shock. “Is he—”

“He’s alive,” Tucker said. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t look good.”

If Rhodes did survive, it might mean all manner of complications for Henry—but I couldn’t bring myself to hope for any other outcome. Even if Jürgen Rhodes did have skeletons in his closet, I couldn’t wish death on the man.

“We’ve taken Mrs. Rhodes in for questioning, ma’am,” Detective Tucker said. I thought I’d misheard them for a minute. I blinked.

“Did you say Mrs. Rhodes—Sofie Rhodes?” My hands began to tingle. I was conscious of the thump of my heartbeat against my chest. I thought things were as bad as they could possibly be, but somehow, this was so much worse. My gaze kept drifting across the room, toward the box. I dragged my eyes back to Detective Tucker.

“We believe there was some kind of domestic altercation that led to the shooting,” Tucker told me.

“It’s shocking, I know,” Johnson said sympathetically. “You said Mr. Miller is at the base?” I nodded mutely. “And your brother?”

“He left for a new job up north,” I said. “Yesterday.”

“Can you tell us where he is? How might we contact him?”

I shook my head. This answer, at least, I’d planned.

“He tends to drift around—but he’ll write me once he finds a place to stay.”

I kept thinking about the Sofie Rhodes in those photos. There had been so much hope in her eyes. Then I thought about her children. I was certain she only had two with her at that party, but the photos suggested three.

Children in a strange country—they didn’t even speak English. Their father might die. Their mother might go to jail—or worse, if she were convicted of murder. Maybe, if Henry had been arrested, he could have used an insanity defense, but Sofie Rhodes would have no such option. She was a woman—maybe that would help? Jürgen Rhodes likely earned an excellent salary. Even if he didn’t survive, they might have enough savings to fund her defense and maybe—

I froze. Was I really trying to convince myself to let an innocent woman face the death penalty for something I knew she didn’t do?

I glanced at the box beneath the lamp table for a split second, then looked back to Tucker. He leaned forward, staring at me with visible concern.

“Mrs. Miller, we know this has been a terrible shock. Would you like us to give you a moment? We do have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”

“Me?”

“Sofie Rhodes told us a fanciful tale about your brother harassing them,” Johnson said, his tone suggesting he was embarrassed to even repeat the accusation. “She’s adamant that Henry was lying about the night he saw her husband in your home. To be truthful, Mrs. Miller, I don’t put much stock in what those Germans do or don’t say. But I figured we’d come and have a chat with you anyway, just to do our due diligence.”

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. There had to be a way to fix this. I couldn’t do anything to undo what Henry had already done, but there had to be a way to save him from prison, to save Sofie Rhodes for her children...

Maybe I sat there a moment too long, because when I opened my eyes, both officers were staring at me, their gazes narrow.

“Mrs. Miller?” Tucker said slowly. “Is there anything you want to tell us?”

For the first time in years, I thought about my mother and the conversation she and I shared beneath the stars about Henry and Daddy, and strong minds and weaker spirits.

You get the brain you’re given, and it seems to me that those of us who are strong have an obligation to care for others when they aren’t.

My gaze drifted again to the box of evidence in the corner of the room.

I had to protect Henry. I had to help Sofie Rhodes.

I let my gaze linger on the box—long enough that the silence stretched.

After a moment, Johnson rose and walked across the room to the lamp table. He lifted the box up onto the table, peered inside, then looked at me in disbelief.

“Care to explain all this, Mrs. Miller?” he said.

“No,” I whispered hoarsely. “No, I don’t think I will.”

The interrogation room was small, with stark white walls and a large clock over the door. I guessed I’d need a lawyer but I didn’t know what I’d say to him, so I hadn’t asked to call one. Johnson and Tucker were throwing rapid-fire questions at me. I knew all of the answers, but I hadn’t said a word since we arrived at the station.

I felt Mother’s memory so strongly in that room. It was like she was trying to tell me something. I just couldn’t catch it with all of the noise and the guilt and the fear and the confusion.

“Lizzie,” Tucker said, his tone suddenly softening. “May I call you that?” I nodded silently. “The bullets in that box match the type of bullets in the gun we found in Jürgen Rhodes’ backyard. You have the photographs Sofie Rhodes says were stolen from her bedroom. You have a tin of paint that might plausibly have been used to harass those Germans up on Saukeraut Hill. We haven’t charged you yet because we thought you might have some explanation for all of this, but you won’t even try to help us out here. Surely you can see this looks bad?”