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asked in his smooth
voice. “Are you requesting legal representation?”
    “No,” Sadie said, shaking her head. She didn’t want to give
them any reason to feel suspicious of her; she had nothing to hide. What was
Ron doing?
    “Yes,” Ron said almost as quickly. “You can leave now.”
    Sadie’s mouth hung open as she looked between Detective Madsen
and Detective Cunningham not knowing what to say. Detective Madsen opened his
notebook and wrote something down. When he looked up at her, his face was
hard—more than it had been. Detective Cunningham didn’t write
anything down, he simply looked at her, then at Ron and back to her again. She
felt he held her eyes a little too long and it made her feel small somehow.
Then the detectives nodded in tandem and headed toward the door.
    “We’ll let ourselves out,” Detective Cunningham said, his voice
tight and yet perfectly professional, contrasting the help he’d been with the
applesauce. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. “Please have
your attorney contact us. I’m sure we’ll have a lot more questions for you.” As
Detective Cunningham spoke, Detective Madsen fumbled in his pocket and quickly
found a card of his own, shoving it into Sadie’s hands.
    Sadie was in shock. Earlier, the detectives said they might have a few more questions for her, now
they were sure they would
have a lot?
    She waited for the door to shut before she pulled away from
Ron.
    “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shrill. “Now they
suspect me more than ever!”
    “What did you tell them?” Ron replied, panic in his eyes. “What
did you see?”
    Sadie paused, confused. “What?” she asked slowly, trying to
absorb what was happening.
    Ron took a step toward her and grabbed her arms. His fingers
pressed into her skin and she felt a whole new emotion—fear.
Ron was taller than six feet, and she was forced to look up into his face as he
seemed to glare down at her. “Tell me everything you told them. Everything.”
    She swallowed, wishing she dared scream for help. How did he
even know about Anne’s murder in the first place? He was supposed to be in
Denver. His grip tightened and she hurried to get the words out. “I told them
when Anne moved here, what I knew of her past, what I saw from the window.”
    “What did you see?”
    “I . . . I saw what I always see. Mr. Henry went to
work, the Baileys went to school and work, and Carrie headed to the gym. Then I
saw two police cars go by.” His hands on her arms relaxed and his face
softened. His relief scared her more than his anxiety had. She pulled her arms
out of his grip and stepped back, putting distance between them and watching
him with trepidation. “Why are you asking me this?”
    Ron took a deep breath and rubbed his left hand over his
thinning hair, cut close to the scalp. He turned away from her and looked out
the front window, staring at nothing. Ron was five years younger than Sadie,
something that bothered her at first but she’d grown accustomed to. He had soft
features, a stocky build, and a rounded middle, but they suited him just fine,
as did the neatly trimmed beard and mustache he’d worn for as long as she’d
known him. She wasn’t sure when the initial feelings of friendship had
transitioned into their recent discussions about weddings and merging
households. She wasn’t ready to set a date—she wanted to get
used to the idea before they began making plans—but she’d
looked forward to the prospect of sharing her life with him.
    When Ron spoke again she could barely hear him. “She was alive
when I left last night, I swear she was.”

Chapter 5

    Sadie’s blood ran cold and she stared at this man, the
only man she had really cared about since Neil’s death. He’d been at Anne’s
house last night? Why?
    Part of her wanted to run out of the room and never find
out.
    She took an instinctive step backward, and the movement caught
Ron’s attention. He turned from the