Proof of Murder (Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery #4) - Lauren Elliott Page 0,43

how it felt. It was nearly an hour since she’d been taken from a holding cell, led in here, and told to take a seat at the small table, with the promise that someone would be with her shortly. Yeah, right. She glared at the large mirror on the opposite wall. Addie had seen her fair share of police dramas and was aware that mirror wasn’t there for aesthetic purposes. Someone was on the other side watching her every move, and if she was a betting woman, she would have placed her money on it being none other than Special Agent Ryley Brookes.

Addie stared unblinkingly at the mirror, a slight curl winking at the corner of her upper lip. As if on cue, the door flew open and Agent Brookes, carrying a black briefcase, and Marc, with some papers tucked under his arm, entered. Neither of them said a word as they took their seats in the two chairs across from Addie. Marc set a beige file folder on the table. Without looking up at her, Marc asked if she was certain she didn’t want her lawyer present.

Addie shifted on her hard wooden chair and shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” Brookes said, “you’ll have to verbally answer the question.”

“Yes,” Addie sighed, “I waive the right to have a lawyer present at this time.” She leaned her elbow on the table and glared at Marc. “You know as well as I do that I have done nothing wrong, and this whole thing is ridiculous.”

Marc cocked his eyebrow. He didn’t speak. He just stared at her. This was a bad sign.

“Can you account for your whereabouts on Wednesday evening?” Brookes asked, the line of her mouth set firm.

“I was at home.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

Addie’s lips twitched. She had seen this part too often in the movies. The suspect lives alone. No one can corroborate the fact that she was home as sworn, and that’s it. No alibi for the time in question. Addie’s heart knocked against her ribs as panic skittered up her spine. Then she remembered. “Serena. Yes, Serena came over Wednesday evening.”

Stifling silence filled the room as Agent Brookes jotted something down on the notepad in front of her, her brow creased. “What time did she arrive, and what time did she leave your place of residence?”

Addie struggled to remember. Keeping track of these kinds of trivial details wasn’t something she ever thought she’d have to recall to prove she was innocent in a crime. Who did anyway besides maybe someone who was planning to commit a crime? Certainly not the average citizen. Addie drummed her fingers on the table as she replayed that evening over in her mind. She recalled that she hadn’t been home long, so Serena must have made her entrance around . . .

“Six thirty,” Addie blurted out, “and then she was there for roughly an hour, so she left about seven thirty.”

“And after that?” Agent Brookes tapped her pen on her notepad.

Addie shook her head.

“Simon wasn’t there?” Marc’s voice sounded strangled. Its accusatory edge seemed to be at odds with his professional-cop demeanor. It had echoes of the jealousy present last year when he and Simon had both vied for her affection. Normally, she would have tried to smooth his ruffled feathers, but as she and Marc were strangers now, not even friends, she would let him suffer.

Agent Brookes’s jaw clenched as she wrote something on the paper.

“No.” Addie’s lip quivered. “He was working.”

An uneasy silence spilled back over the room.

“He did call later to say good night, though.” Addie made a point of watching Marc’s reaction to that. His cop face cracked, but only a tiny sliver of the man she used to know peeked through.

“On your cell phone or landline?” Ryley cocked her brow without looking up from her notes, her non-actions clearly indicating that she chose to ignore the rising tension between Addie and Marc.

“I have a cell phone only.” Addie’s voice wavered.

“So, in reality,” Agent Brookes said, leaning toward her, “you could have been anywhere when that call came through, right?”

“I suppose. Yes, but I wasn’t. I was at home.” Addie racked her brain. There must be some way she could prove she was at home and not lurking around an old house that had given her the creeps. “I was doing some research on my laptop.” She gave a shaky smile. “You can check it for IP addresses, my search history, and the times I logged in and out. That should