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Didn’t help.
    One-fifteen. Gloria was late. Elizabeth let go an unsteady breath and fiddled with the straw in her cola. She had to get hold of herself. She couldn’t let MacBride get to her this way. He’d been worse than those two detectives put together. Something was different about him. More intimidating. A subtle ruthlessness that frightened her. This was a man who wouldn’t give up until he knew everything.
    She hadn’t done anything wrong. Sure, there’d been moments when Ned’s actions had made her want to kill him, but she hadn’t. Thinking about it wasn’t against the law. Probably dozens of women, especially former patients, had probably thought about it more than once.
    Maybe one of them had actually done it.
    Elizabeth went rigid. Could one of the women who’d come to his funeral have been his killer? Was that why MacBride was there?
    He suspected her. That was the reason he’d put in an appearance. Something frigid seeped into her bones. He’d discovered the video of her and Ned and he’d put it together with the dinner date on Ned’s calendar and come up with murder. She sipped her cola to wet her desperately dry throat. How long would it be before he found out about the two huge arguments they’d had? Very public arguments, one in the lobby of Ned’s office and another at that party. She’d slapped him during the second one. He’d grabbed her by the shoulders and shaken her and she’d slapped him again.
    And she’d... God, she’d told him he would be sorry. Had anyone heard her rant? She’d made a threat against him, there was no other way to interpret the words, but she hadn’t really meant it. Everyone said things like that in the heat of anger. She wouldn’t be the first or the last—except maybe where Ned Harrison was concerned.
    Had she been the last person to threaten him out loud? In front of dozens of witnesses?
    But she hadn’t killed him.
    Elizabeth pressed a hand to her lips and closed her eyes long enough to pull herself together. The evidence would be stacked against her. She was an outsider. It would be much easier and certainly less messy to pin the rap on her. She could barely afford her rent at the moment. A high priced attorney was out of the question. And if she was stuck in a jail cell, she’d lose her contract on the rest of the lofts and any prospects of future income.
    She had no family who could help. Her sister, Peg, would sympathize, but it was all she could do to keep a roof over her three kids’ heads. Too bad that scumbag she’d been married to hadn’t had any life insurance. Then when he’d careened off a bridge and into a river while intoxicated, at least he would have been worth something. Instead, her sister’d had a tough time scraping together the money to bury the worthless bastard.
    Elizabeth swiped her eyes and forced herself to think calmly. She wasn’t guilty. Surely the real murderer had left some sort of evidence. She knew Ned had been with someone else. It was why he hadn’t shown for their dinner date. Had that woman returned later and killed him, or was it someone else entirely? Maybe she’d even been hiding in the apartment while Elizabeth was there. There was no way to know. She’d thought he was alone when she confronted him. But someone had definitely been there shortly before her abrupt arrival. She’d seen the tousled sheets, smelled the musky scent of sex.
    The son of a bitch.
    She drew in a deep breath and again focused on calming her racing heart and jangled nerves. When she’d left Ned Harrison he had been very much alive. But MacBride would never believe her. If she admitted she’d gone to Ned’s apartment, he would use it against her. Besides, she was pretty sure no one had seen her. Why give the authorities any more ammunition than they already had? She’d be a fool not to recognize she was at the top of the suspect list already.
    She couldn’t tell MacBride anything and risk being charged with Ned’s murder.