your house with a package that had been left for you at the Pug and Whistler. It contained the same black-market prescription medication that you overdosed on. The package had your name on it. What can you tell me about that package?”
She gave Lozza a blank look. But the pulse at her neck increased in tempo. Her breathing became more shallow. “I . . . I don’t know anything about a package, or those drugs that the doctors said were in my system—I don’t take them. I used to take Ativan, but I’d stopped.”
Lozza showed her the photo of the bald man in a leather jacket with the tattoo on the side of his neck. “Do you know this man?”
Ellie peered closely at the photo. Sweat broke out on her brow. She swallowed. “I . . . I’ve never seen him. Who is he?”
Again, Lozza felt she might be lying.
“This man left the drug package for you at the Puggo. He has a hummingbird tattoo on the side of his neck, and he rides a dirt bike with Queensland plates.”
Ellie looked frightened. She said nothing.
“Had you ever received packages from this man before?”
“I told you, I don’t know who he is! Maybe Martin does.”
“Martin is missing, Ellie,” Lozza said.
Ellie raised a hand to wipe her mouth. She was shaking. She looked even more pale. Lozza felt the clock ticking. Any minute a doc or nurse was going to barge in and shut this questioning down.
“How do you think you got back from the boat, Ellie?” Gregg pressed again.
“I don’t know!” She glowered at Gregg. “I told you. Do you have any idea how this feels—to have you guys telling me all this, to think I might have been raped or something, and have absolutely no recall? Do you know how vulnerable this makes me feel?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Cresswell-Smith,” Lozza said firmly. “But your husband is missing and you’ve been in a coma. We need to ask you these things now. If Martin is still alive somewhere, his life could be in grave danger. Time is critical.”
Ellie’s gaze locked on Lozza’s. Her jaw tightened and her eyes turned feverish beneath the bandage on her brow. “I hope you don’t find him. And if you do, I hope he’s dead and that he suffered.”
Silence slammed into the room.
Lozza took in a deep, slow breath. She heard Gregg making notes in his notepad.
“Why do you say this, Ellie?”
“Because . . . I hate him.”
She waited. Ellie offered nothing more.
“Do you hate him because you found out that he was having an affair? Or because you felt he married you for your money?”
Something in Ellie’s eyes shuttered. Her hands fisted the sheets. “I need you to leave. Now,” she said through clenched teeth. “I . . . I’m tired. I’m going to be sick. I—”
Quickly, before Ellie could reach for her buzzer and summon medical personnel, Lozza said, “Can we at least try and go back to the last point you do remember, Ellie? Do you recall meeting me on the beach? We swam together with my daughter.”
“Yes,” Ellie whispered. “I remember.”
Lozza cleared her throat. “And then while we were in the water, you saw Martin up on the beach.”
She nodded.
“You looked terrified.”
“I . . . He wasn’t supposed to be home. He’d been on a business trip to Sydney. I wasn’t expecting him home for several days.”
“And this frightened you?”
She looked puzzled, as if she really was trying to remember something.
“What happened after Maya and I left you and Martin in the dunes?”
“I . . . We . . .” She appeared confused again and trailed off.
“Take your time,” Lozza said softly.
“I was afraid, but I don’t remember why.”
“Martin had brought an esky and wineglasses to the beach. You had a sundowner after I left, maybe?” Lozza said.
“Maybe.”
“What did Martin bring to drink for this sundowner?” Gregg asked.
“White wine, I think.”
Gregg made more notes. “How did you feel after the wine?” he asked.
“Um . . . buzzy, I suppose. I . . . I was very stressed. Perhaps . . . I had a bit more than I should have. To . . . to take the edge off.”
“Why did you need to take the edge off?” Lozza asked. “Why did you feel so stressed that day?”
Ellie moistened her lips again and closed her eyes. Tears leaked out from under her lashes. Very quietly, her jaw tight, she said, “I. Can’t. Recall. Things.”