I didn’t wait for Hoffman’s go-ahead, since I saw no harm in answering this type of question.
“Would you consider her to be a friend?”
I mulled that one over, but had to say, “Yes.”
“How long have you been friends?”
“Since high school,” I replied. “I guess that puts it at more than ten years, probably around fourteen years.”
Detective Mitchell continued, “Actually, she was your best friend in high school, correct?”
Who told you that? I thought, but instead said, “Yes, she was.”
Mitchell scribbled something down, even though the light on the voice recorder indicated I was being taped. “Did you have occasion to speak to Ami Hensley on the phone yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what time it was?”
“Um, before noon.”
“How did she seem when you spoke to her?”
I glanced at Hoffman, and he nodded. “Um, she seemed normal,” I said.
“Mr. Hensley stated that his wife was on her way to visit you here on the island when she disappeared. Is this correct?”
A distracted nod from Hoffman, who appeared preoccupied with taking notes of his own. But I somehow knew he was acutely aware of everything. So I answered, “Yes, that’s correct.”
“What was the nature of this visit, Miss Fitch?” The detective’s voice grew tight, and I knew we were getting down to the heart of the matter. He was hoping to get some kind of lead on this case—catch me up on something, see what I knew.
I opened my mouth and then closed it. I debated whether or not to mention the scratch I’d seen on J.T.’s arm, something I had yet to relay to Adam. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it until I knew if it meant more, so I was ready to let it go. Some part of me wanted to let this play out, get the answers on my own, but then my dad’s words came back to me.
I started to speak, but Hoffman silenced me with a light touch to my arm. “Detective Mitchell” he said in his smooth lawyer voice, “my client is not required to answer that question. The context of the visit was, no doubt, personal and not related to the case. Therefore, Ms. Fitch will not be responding to that question at this time.”
I nodded in agreement since I had waffled on whether to answer or not. Mitchell conceded with a sigh, “As you wish.”
Hoffmann had no idea why Ami had been on her way to visit me, but I supposed he didn’t care. In any case I was kind of glad there were no more direct questions for me. Mitchell and my attorney continued to speak, arguing over what kinds of questions were appropriate and what were not. It seemed to go on forever.
I soon tuned out their voices, opting instead to stare out the window and watch the play of lightning across an ever-darkening sky. Ultimately we were at nature’s mercy, weren’t we? It made me wonder what control we really had. Was it all an illusion? The study felt further and further away as I lost myself in the vivid display until, bringing me back to the here and now, Adam came up from behind me. Touching my shoulder gently, he murmured, “Maddy?”
I glanced around. Detective Mitchell and Hoffman had evidently departed without my even realizing it. “How long have I been sitting here?” I asked.
“Just a few minutes,” Adam said. “You looked like you needed some time just to think. Mitchell and Hoffman said good-bye, but it didn’t look like you even heard them. Do you want to talk?”
“Not really,” I said truthfully, standing. “I just feel so tired.”
And I was tired. Tired of being a suspect, tired of police interrogations, tired of not having the right answers. Adam’s fingers traced down my cheek to my chin, and then he tilted my head up to meet his gaze. “Why don’t you go upstairs, get some rest?”
Our eyes met, and something passed between us. Something unspoken, something unmistakable. “Are you coming up?” I asked, but I was really asking for so much more.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Promise?” I murmured, losing myself in his eyes.
“Promise,” he replied.
I made my way to Adam’s bedroom in a daze of sorts. With one hand on the bed to balance myself, I kicked off my shoes. And then I peeled off my jeans, leaving only my panties and long-sleeved tee on before crawling under the covers. I buried myself in the downy comforter, the pile of blankets. I needed to forget,