the detective Brad’s number. “I really don’t think . . .” I said.
“No, no, I know. But we’ll need to follow up, just to eliminate him from the investigation. My guess is that your husband’s murder is exactly what it seems to be. Someone breaking into houses, looking for jewelry and other small items to steal. Maybe the killer had some sort of cover story that enabled him to talk his way into your house. Would you say that Ted was the trusting type? Would he have let a stranger past his door if that stranger had a good story?”
I thought for a moment, telling myself that the real answer was a resounding no. “I could see that,” I said. “He lived a charmed life and nothing bad had ever happened to him. You’d think that, with all the money he made . . . but he was pretty trusting.”
Detective Kimball leaned back in his swivel chair and nodded at me. I could feel that we were winding down. It made me nervous. I knew that as soon as he was alone, the detective was going to call Brad, and I did not trust that Brad would handle that call well at all, even though we’d been over what he was going to say a hundred times. I thought about trying to call him first to warn him and calm him down, then realized that there would be phone records, that the police would know I called him immediately after identifying him in a sketch.
“You know,” I said, realizing that it was important that I didn’t hide any information from the police. “I actually saw Brad Daggett yesterday morning. I needed to tell him to suspend work on the house. I was on my way up to Maine.”
“Oh.” The detective let the chair tilt forward.
“He was totally normal. A little shocked, I thought, about what happened to Ted.”
“Like I said, we just need to eliminate him. I’m sure he has an alibi. From what you’re saying, it doesn’t sound like he had anything to do with this. Oh, one other thing, Mrs. Severson, the scene-of-the-crime officers are done at your house, which means you’re free to go back there. I didn’t know if you’d . . .”
“I need to go back,” I said, “just to pick up some clothes, and then I’ll see how I feel about staying there.”
“Okay.” He stood, and so did I. “I need to stay here at the station,” he said, “but can I get an officer to give you a ride back to your car, or to your house?”
“No, thanks. I can take a taxi.”
“Well, then, I’ll call you a taxi. I can’t thank you enough for coming in and looking at our sketch. You’ve been very helpful, and in my experience, once we get a likeness, an arrest is not far behind. Someone will know this guy.”
I continued to stand for a moment, hesitant to leave, knowing that things might start to unravel fast. My mind reeled, knowing that Brad would be questioned, probably within hours, by the police. I’d coached him, but not enough. And then there were other things, like the fact that Ted, on that last visit to Kennewick, had met up with Brad and gotten drunk with him at that bar at the beach. It was such an odd thing for Ted to do. It made me wonder about what Brad had said the day before—how he was convinced that Ted knew about us. Maybe he did, but how was that possible? And if he did, would he have told anyone? But even if he hadn’t known, the fact that Brad and Ted had drinks together would only make the police more suspicious of Brad.
“You okay?” Detective Kimball asked awkwardly, and I realized he’d caught me standing there, lost in thought, for about five seconds. I dropped my shoulders, pretended to suppress a sob, then looked up at him, and let tears run out of my eyes. He quickly glanced around the office, but I stepped into him and he was forced to take me in his arms. I began to sob, pulling him in close to me, burying my head under his chin. I pressed hard enough so that I could feel my breasts flattening out against his chest. “It’s okay, Mrs. Severson,” he said, and put a hand around my shoulders, keeping his other one down by his side. I separated from him, apologizing madly, just as Detective