Martin.” Shaw pulls out a notebook from his jacket pocket, flips open to a page somewhere in the middle. “Do you happen to recall if she was pregnant last spring?”
“Mandy? No, I don’t think so.”
“Thank you,” Shaw says. “This is extremely helpful, Mrs. Martin.”
“Anything I can do.”
“Actually, there might be something more you can do for us.” He flips a few more notebook pages. He’s making me nervous now. “We’ve spent some time going over the Harrises’ phone records. There were calls made from Joanna Harris’s number to yours almost every day until July.”
“That sounds about right. We were friends.”
Until…
I can’t even finish the thought without feeling as though every light inside me has dimmed. I pray to God the detectives don’t see it.
“Do you know any reason why Joanna would be in close contact with your husband?” Shaw fires, straight to my heart.
A million thoughts stream through my head at once, loud and scattered like firecrackers. If I tell Detective Shaw about Travis and Joanna, I’m going to paint a target on Travis’s back. These guys are going to meet with him next and probe him about the relationship, and who knows what their conclusions might be? They might say the affair with Joanna drove him mad. They might even throw around a term like “crime of passion.” Michael will find out, too. It’s inevitable. Travis will undoubtedly lose his job.
I already thought the dynamic among the three of us was bizarre.
I was wrong. It would have nothing on the coming storm.
“No,” I lie. “Not at all.”
“So you wouldn’t be able to explain phone activity between Joanna Harris and your husband?”
“Well,” I falter, “there might’ve been a few times when he called Michael and didn’t get an answer, so Travis would call Joanna instead. But only to relay a business message, you see.”
They exchange weary glances, and I know I’ve made a terrible misstep. Tears burn my eyes.
“So you can’t think of any reason Travis would want to talk to Joanna personally?” Shaw asks gently. I wouldn’t trust this guy as far as I could throw him. “In matters not concerning business?”
“Well, of course they were friends as well, Detective.” I lift my hands palm up, as if to show I have nothing to hide. “We all were. I’ve called Michael hundreds of times. Would you like to check my phone records to verify that as well?”
A long, hard pause, and then, “We might, yes. Thank you for the offer.”
Goddamn it.
I have to watch myself. “Anything else I can help you with?”
“One more thing.” Shaw leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
Staring into his beady green eyes, I realize he’s the shrewd one of the two—the one who scratches beneath the surface, determined to find the thing that’s hidden. Patel’s the ambitious one, the guy on the lookout for a promotion, the one who buys his wife a flashy Jaguar to parade through our neighborhood. He’s probably cheating on her. Wants to keep her happy, so she won’t question why he’s spending so much time “at the office.” That’s the way Travis works. I never received prettier flowers or more luxurious jewelry than last summer, when he was sleeping with Joanna behind my back. But Shaw…I can’t pinpoint his motives. I can’t get a read on him. He’s the one we need to be wary of.
“I was hoping you could clarify something for me,” he goes on.
“If I can.” I smile, to show I’m on their side.
“There were times when you and Joanna seemed to speak via text or phone every day, and other periods when activity was sparse. Especially in July, around her approximate date of death. Your phone interactions seemed to shorten, if they occurred at all.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I say, suddenly