“How about a disgruntled ex? Or even a disgruntled client? Anything like that?”
“Nothing like that, no.”
It felt as if they were moving around her in smaller and smaller concentric circles, inching closer and closer to the spot she didn’t want them to reach. She saw the next question coming before Burke had even opened his mouth.
“And you were here last night? At home?”
“I ran out—at around nine,” she said, her breathing growing shallow. “To take a walk. Just for an hour or so. And—and the elevator was definitely working then, by the way.”
She’d nearly tripped over her words. Could they sense she was concealing something? She wondered if they’d press her for more details, force her to out-and-out lie.
But the next question was for her phone numbers, and then Burke snapped his notebook shut, done at least for now. The two men rose in unison. She sensed that a message, indecipherable to her, had been telegraphed between the two of them.
“We’re going to talk to your assistant now,” Burke said. “Why don’t you wait in here and we’ll be back to you in a bit.”
“Okay, but what about Ms. Howe’s assistant? Is it okay for me to call her now and tell her the news?”
“Just give me the contact information,” Burke said bluntly. “We’re the ones who take care of that.”
As soon as they’d gone, Kit checked her phone. If it had rung from the kitchen island she would have certainly heard it, but she wanted to be sure. Nothing from Baby or from Kelman. Frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair. She left a second message for Kelman.
She glanced around her apartment. She’d toughed it out here since the burglary, but there was no way she could stay after today. It would be back to Baby’s, she decided, grateful that the offer still stood. After grabbing a duffel bag from the closet, she began to toss in clothes and items to cover her for the next few days. Nearly finished, she glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. What was taking the cops so freaking long? She wondered how poor Dara was faring.
As she was stuffing a bottle of shampoo into her toiletry bag, she heard a knock on the doorframe. Returning to the living area, she found Burke emerging through the door from the office.
“When you found the body, you just touched the hand?” he asked.
“Yes.” Why was he asking that?
“So you never saw the face?”
“No, but I—I’m sure it’s her.”
“The investigator from the ME’s office is going to need you to come back in the stairwell and make an official I.D.”
Inside she groaned in protest. This was crazy. At the rate things were going, identifying corpses was going to become a full-fledged hobby of hers.
She nodded solemnly and followed Burke, this time leaving through her own apartment door. There was now a strip of bright yellow caution tape strung across the stairwell doorway and Burke lifted a section with his jacketed forearm so she could duck underneath. On the landing below was a man, dressed from head to toe in white, examining the wall.
As she took her first step on the stairs, a burst of light startled her. Another followed two seconds later. She realized that someone must be photographing the scene. From farther down, on the fourth floor, she could hear people talking in low tones, their words indistinguishable. And then, as if a switch had been flipped, there was silence. She sensed people waiting, expectant. Instinctively she froze in place, one foot hovering above a step. An unseen woman began to speak.
“I’m sure you noted that she fell head first,” she said, her voice echoing a little against the stairwell walls. “And it’s very hard to do that without somebody’s help.”
So that was it then, Kit thought, fear gushing through her. Avery had been shoved down the stairs.
chapter 16
Kit didn’t budge, just stayed there with her foot raised, straining to hear what came next, but the speaker’s words were quickly engulfed by the murmuring of other people’s voices, everybody talking at once again.
“Here we go,” Burke said, his grip on her elbow urging her down the steps. She let him guide her, because all she could concentrate on was what she’d just overheard. Avery hadn’t tripped. She’d been pushed. One of the investigators had practically said so. But why? Or had the person really meant to hurl her down the stairs?