The Last Sister (Columbia River)(59)

“Was the bedroom light on?” Ava cut in.

Emily paused. “It was.”

“How long were you in the bedroom before you went into the backyard?”

“Only a few moments.” Emily squeezed her eyes shut as if she could make her visual memories disappear. “I touched Lindsay’s neck for a pulse even though I knew she was dead.” She blew out a breath and opened her eyes. “I immediately followed the blood out back, hoping to find Sean still alive.”

“Would you say you were in the bedroom less than a minute?”

“Easily.”

Unease crawled up Zander’s spine. Ava was systematically tracking the time between Emily’s phone call on the front porch and her call to 911.

Where are the extra twenty minutes?

“What did you do when you saw Sean?” Ava asked.

“I went closer. I felt his wrist for a pulse.” Emily had shifted to an empty monotone, struggling to keep her emotions in check.

“Did it take you a few minutes to work up the nerve to touch him?”

Emily vehemently shook her head. “No. I knew waiting could mean the difference between life and death. I checked immediately. No pulse.”

“And then?”

“I called 911.”

“Why didn’t you call 911 right after finding Lindsay?”

Emily scratched near her temple. “I remember I had my phone out—I was about to, but I followed the blood instead.” She swallowed audibly. “She was dead—there was no urgency for an ambulance. No one could bring her back,” she whispered.

“Sean was dead too,” Ava said in a kind voice. “But you called right after checking for a pulse?”

“I did. An ambulance wasn’t needed, but the police were.”

“From outside? Or did you go back in the house to call?”

“Outside.”

Ava shuffled through the papers on her lap, and Zander watched Emily out of the corner of his eye. Her shoulders sagged, and anguish was evident in her downturned mouth.

He hoped to God Emily had a good explanation for the time inconsistencies. He shifted forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, wishing he could hide his tension behind a table. Ava was silent as she studied the next papers in her file, and the silence in the room grew heavy. Long periods of silence were meant to create unease for the interviewee, but Zander seemed to be the only uneasy one. He studied Ava, noting the lines on her forehead and the slight tightening of her lower lip. She was frustrated.

Ava hopes for a good explanation too.

And she had alleged that Zander’s emotions were affecting his work.

Ava was also rooting for Emily.

“Emily. I have a copy of your phone records for that day.” She handed a page to Emily, who accepted it with a stunned look.

“Why didn’t you ask to see my phone if you had questions?”

“This is more official.”

“You mean it has calls that can’t be deleted,” Emily snapped. She angrily scanned the sheet, running a finger down the entries. “One, two, three calls to Lindsay, my call to Sean, and then one more to Lindsay’s phone. Exactly as I told you. What’s the issue here?”

“The issue is the twenty minutes between your last call from the porch to Lindsay and the call to 911.”

Emily froze and stared at the paper. She finally looked up, determination in her gaze. “I can explain.”

“Please do.”

Zander held his breath as he watched a war of guilt and frustration play out on Emily’s face.

“After I found Sean, I sat on the back porch before calling—I didn’t realize I had sat for that long, though.” Emily rubbed at an eye. “Jeez—I must have really been out of it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ava.

“Shock. Disbelief. Confusion. It took me a while to get myself together.”

Ava cocked her head. “That doesn’t sound like you . . . I can see you’re levelheaded. You were the one who stopped the deputies from making a bigger mess at the scene and reported the mark on Sean’s forehead.”

“Trust me. After finding Lindsay and Sean, I was anything but levelheaded.” Emily closed her eyes. “But I was also shook up from something else I saw.”

Zander’s breath caught. “Something else? What?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have, but . . .” She buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t understand. It didn’t make any sense. It still doesn’t!”

“Emily—” Ava started.

“Give me a minute,” she said. Her chest moved as she took several deep breaths, her gaze scanning every corner of the room, avoiding Zander and Ava. “I found my father’s pocket watch in Lindsay’s backyard,” she said quietly.

Now I don’t understand.

Zander lifted a brow at Ava, who gave a minuscule shake of her head. “Emily,” he asked. “what does finding that watch mean to you? I don’t see the significance.”

Other than that you shouldn’t have removed possible evidence from the scene.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. Her eyes were haunted. “It disappeared the night he was killed. He had always kept it in his pocket, but it vanished when . . . And its loss added to my mother’s upset—it was a prized possession of his.”