Trespassing(95)

“Micah said something about blue in my dream, but . . .”

“You don’t know anything about this?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“And you’ve never been to the family’s lake house in Wisconsin?”

“No.”

“Yet you took off, planning to drop in, on a father-in-law you’d never met, for the Thanksgiving holiday.”

“Shell invited us. I told you that.”

“Instead, you show up here. Your daughter starts talking about Connor and Brendan before I send over the birth certificates.”

“Yes.”

“Yet you claim you didn’t know about the boys—”

“I didn’t!”

“Until Laughlin gave you copies of the birth records.”

“Right.”

“And the boys’ and Gabrielle’s remains were in the plane that crashed off the coast. They died before they ever got on that plane. Their lungs were filled with lake water, not salt water. Venture a guess as to which lake we’re pinpointing?”

“Plum Lake?”

“That’s right. Traces of benzodiazepine were found in their systems. Drugged, then drowned. We’re guessing it happened sometime in the days before you claim your husband left or shortly thereafter.”

He’s looking at me as if he expects me to say something.

“Your neighbor says she picked up your daughter from preschool two days before your husband left.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re unaccounted for that afternoon.”

“I had an appointment with the fertility clinic. We batched oocytes.”

“Your husband was with you?”

“Yes. They fertilize right after batching. He had to be there.”

“And the clinic. They’ll confirm the appointment?”

“Of course.”

Guidry’s staring me down again. “And the days following the batching? Anyone account for your presence then?”

“Claudette. People at the preschool.”

“But not consistently.”

“Never not for fourteen hours in a row, which is the minimum it would have taken me to drive up there and back.”

“Even overnight?”

I hold his stare. I didn’t do it.

“And no one can account for Micah,” he says. “We know that.”

“You think Micah did it?”

“I’ve got a dead woman who had a relationship with your husband. Two dead boys fathered by your husband. Access to benzodiazepine and death by drowning. Indications you’re attempting to purchase a house out of the country, and you’ve already gone against my advisement in coming to Key West. Not to mention your prescription for Xanax that was recently refilled, according to your pharmacy.”

“Wait, what? But I didn’t refill it. I didn’t! I didn’t like taking it. So I never took it. I wouldn’t have to refill it.”

“How tall are you, Veronica?”

“Five-eight.”

“What do you weigh?”

The question takes me aback. No one should ask it and expect an answer. But he blinks at me expectantly.

“Your license says one-thirty-five.”

“I gained a few pounds with treatment.”

“Gabrielle was five-one. Weighed ninety-five pounds.”

“Good for her.”

“You could overpower someone of that size.”

“I could. But that doesn’t mean I would, detective. I couldn’t fathom doing something like that.”

“Yet this isn’t the first time you’ve been accused of doing something like that.”

“I was a kid,” I say, voice breaking. “My mother was sick. She did it to herself, and the county record will confirm it.”

He nods, still not breaking his deadpan stare. “Benzos in a bathtub.”

“Yes.” I know this doesn’t look good. “And later with a knife.”

“Uh-huh. The knife did the job?”

“Yes.” I can’t look away. I don’t want to give him any reason to think I’m not being truthful. I have nothing to hide.

“Tragedy seems to follow you.”

“Maybe Diamante killed Gabrielle and the boys?” I offer. “Because Micah owed them money?”

“Could be.” He bites on his lower lip for a moment. “In that case, you and your daughter would be in real trouble but—”

“Someone followed us toward Wisconsin. I told you this. That’s how we ended up here. And the guy who lives through the alleyway—at least I thought he lived there—he’s working with them. He was in the house—possibly searching it—when I arrived. It might have only been a matter of time before . . .” I shudder with the thought. I let him in. He carried my daughter to bed. He could’ve hurt us.

I think of the notation on Christian’s desk. Owes Diamond Corporation 5M. He knows Micah owes big money.

“The luminol test . . . turns out it wasn’t a false positive. There were traces of blood found in Micah’s car,” Guidry says. “It’s his blood, but it appears to have been staged. The patterns aren’t consistent with a body bleeding out.”