the familiar aroma of Joy hits me. She’s built exactly like Joanna, I realize suddenly, having just seen Joanna’s figure so vividly. A petite little thing, with a narrow waist and heart-shaped face. Long hair. Nice smile. Scissors clutched in her hand. No, wait…
Digging the heels of my hands into my eyes, I feel like I’m going to break. Snap clean in two like a twig. Swinging my legs to the floor and sitting upright, I lower my head and try to force my heart to calm. The dream felt so real. I could’ve sworn Joanna was here, blood everywhere, laughing.
“Are you okay?” Colleen asks, her hand suddenly on my back.
“Don’t.” I jump up from her touch and circle the coffee table as the scent of Joanna’s perfume heightens my nausea again. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Michael—why? What’s wrong?”
Because anger and resentment and pain are building to a violent crest inside me, and because I can’t push them down any longer.
“Just stay there.” I put up my hands. “Please. Give me a second to clear my head. I’m not seeing straight.”
“Why don’t you sit back down?” She frowns, confused. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you onto the couch.”
But I won’t sit. My gaze lingers on the grove across the street. All those smooth trunks and crooked branches. Torrential rain rushes over everything, flooding the street and the grassy area in front of the grove.
Joanna was buried right there, just out of my line of sight.
A car passes by, then slows. It stops in front of Ravenwood, and the doors fly open. Detectives Shaw and Patel emerge from either side, their heads bowed to protect their faces from the barrage of rain.
Colleen opens the door wide before they can knock. They’re dressed alike in black shoes, black pants, and white collared shirts, shoulders drenched from even the short time they were exposed to the storm. They smile at Colleen as they pass by, but when their eyes turn to me, their faces turn stony.
“Make yourself at home,” Colleen says, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Can I get you an espresso? Tea?”
Shaw lifts his hand dismissively as Detective Patel takes handcuffs from his pocket.
“Mr. Harris,” Patel says, “you’re under arrest for the murder of your wife, Joanna Harris.”
“Wait,” Colleen interrupts, shocked. “What?”
Detective Patel goes on with the formal statement, but I can’t make out anything through the static buzzing in my brain. The walls close in, and the floor disappears beneath my feet. Colleen starts to cry, and her frenzied voice drones in and out as she tugs on Shaw’s shirt. She’s begging. Dropping to her knees. Wind and rain blast through the gaping front door, howling through Ravenwood. Joanna’s scent swirls in the torrent of air.
“Please, no, he didn’t kill her,” Colleen pleads, attempting to block the doorway. “You can’t do this. You can’t take him from me—”
“Step aside, Miss Roper,” Patel snaps.
Shaw lifts me off the couch and twists my arms behind my back. The cold prick of metal slaps against my wrists.
“It’s okay, Colleen,” I say, grasping for a moment of lucidity. “Contact my lawyer. You can get the number in my office. Can you do that for me?”
She nods, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I know you didn’t do this. They won’t be able to keep you for long. I’ll do whatever I can to get you out, I promise, darling. Whatever it takes.”
“I know,” I say, and lean to plant a kiss on her lips, but the detectives pull me back. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Soon,” she swears. “We’re going to be a family, Michael. It’s going to be all right. You’ll see.”
I want to believe her, but I don’t dare hope. Not now.
As Shaw escorts me to the car, I lower my head to shield my face against the slashing rain. I glance back at Ravenwood,