28
O n Roman’s front porch, Emily leaned in for a goodbye kiss. “I have to go,” she said, gently pushing away from him, but he held her close. He kissed her again, murmuring, “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I have to pick Ava up from school,” she insisted, trying to free herself from his embrace.
“I could come with you,” Roman suggested eagerly.
“You can’t. I need to go home afterward to get our things. I promise I’ll be back soon. The sooner you let me go, the faster I’ll return.”
Roman draped an arm around her shoulder as they strolled toward her car. “I don’t like the idea of you dealing with Gabriel alone. I can handle him while you pack.”
Emily shook her head in disagreement, “Having you there will only make him madder. It’s better if I do this myself.”
When they reached her car, Roman opened the driver’s door for her and Emily slid behind the wheel. She started the engine and rolled down the window. Roman closed the door and leaned inside the window. “All right, you have exactly two hours, and then I’m coming to find you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon,” Emily assured him, giving him a quick peck on the lips before backing the car out of his driveway.
Forty minutes later, Emily and Ava arrived home, and she was relieved to find that Gabriel wasn’t there. Hoping to gather their belongings and leave before he returned, Emily quickly unbuckled Ava from her booster seat. “We’re going to spend a couple of nights at Roman’s house,” she told her daughter. “We need to hurry. While I pack our things, I need you to grab any toys you want to bring, okay?”
Ava nodded in agreement.
Emily lifted Ava onto her hip and hurried into the house and up the stairs. Once they reached the top, she set Ava down and urged, “Hurry, get your toys.”
Emily dashed to her room to pack while Ava scurried to hers. A short time later, Emily rolled her suitcase out of her room and placed it outside Ava’s door then went inside. She packed Ava’s things as quickly as possible, then extended her hand to Ava, who was sitting on the floor playing with her toys. “Come on, honey, it’s time to go.”
Ava gathered her toys in her arms and tried to get up, but they slipped from her grasp. Emily grabbed a basket from the bookshelf, emptied its contents onto the floor, and said, “Put your toys in here.”
As they were hurriedly placing the toys into the basket, Emily heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway. It was too late—Gabriel was home.
As Emily descended the stairs, the doorbell rang, giving her a faint glimmer of hope that they might still avoid a confrontation. She reached the bottom just as Agnes opened the front door.
Standing there were Detective Martin and Detective Johnson. Detective Martin’s gaze shifted to her luggage. “Going somewhere?” he inquired.
“We’re staying with a friend for a couple of days,” Emily replied, glancing at Agnes just in time to catch her smirk.
“What can I do for you, Detective?” Emily asked.
Detective Martin glanced down at Ava and then back at Emily. “Is there somewhere we can speak in private?”
Emily turned to Agnes and said, “Can you take Ava to the kitchen for a snack?”
Agnes extended her hand to Ava and led her out of the room, “Come on, Ava. I made a batch of cookies today.”
Detective Martin started to cough, and Emily asked, “Would you like a glass of water?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, please.”
“You can have a seat in the living room. I’ll be right back,” Emily said, leaving the foyer and heading to the kitchen.
Returning to the living room, she found Detective Martin seated on the couch, while Detective Johnson stood by the fireplace mantle, closely examining a picture frame.
“Here you are,” Emily said, handing Detective Martin the glass of water.
“Thank you,” he replied, taking a large sip.
Detective Johnson picked up the picture frame from the mantle and studied it. “This is a beautiful scarf,” he remarked, carrying the frame over to Detective Martin. “Isn’t this a beautiful scarf?” he asked, showing him the picture.
Detective Martin’s eyes widened. “It’s beautiful. It looks expensive.”
Taking the picture from him, Emily carried it back to the mantle. “It’s a one-of-a-kind Gianni Versace. Gabriel got it for me on our honeymoon in Italy.” She placed it back in its spot and turned to face the detectives.
“Would you mind telling me what this is all about? As you can see, I was on my way out,” Emily said, her tone tinged with annoyance.
“We’ll get to that in a minute. Do you still have the scarf?”
“Yes, why?” Emily asked, puzzled.
Detective Martin got to his feet. “Can you go and get it, please?”
Glancing at the grandfather clock and aware that Roman would arrive soon if she didn’t leave, Emily said, “I don’t have time for this.”
“Please, just go and get it,” he said firmly, leaving little room for argument.
Emily sighed frustratedly before leaving the room to retrieve the scarf. She hurried up the stairs, and upon reaching the top, she quickly sent Roman a text message: “Everything’s okay, but I’ll be a little late.” After hitting the send button, she rushed into her walk-in closet, opened the armoire, and began tossing scarves into the air, searching frantically for the one she needed. However, it was nowhere to be found.
Although she couldn’t remember wearing it recently, Emily rummaged through the dirty laundry basket just in case. She didn’t fully understand the detectives’ interest, but her gut told her the scarf was significant, and finding it was important. After tearing her closet apart, Emily had to accept that the scarf was missing. Reluctantly, she headed back downstairs to inform the detectives.
Emily stepped into the living room and said, “I can’t find it. What is this all about?”
“Maggie Culliver is dead,” Detective Martin said grimly.
Emily’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“Your scarf was found at the crime scene,” Detective Martin continued, stepping closer. “Emily Anderson, you’re under arrest for the murder of Maggie Culliver.”
He grabbed her arms, brought them behind her back, and cuffed her, then recited her Miranda rights.
Emily’s first thoughts were of her daughter. Turning to Detective Johnson, she pleaded, “Please, can you tell Agnes what is happening? Tell her to keep Ava in the kitchen. I don’t want her to see any of this; it will scare her.”
Detective Johnson nodded and headed to the kitchen.
As soon as Roman read Emily’s text, he grabbed his car keys and dashed out of the house. He cursed himself for letting her handle this on her own . If he lays a finger on her, I’ll kill him , he thought, as he floored the gas pedal to the ground.
When he reached her house, Roman slammed the car into park, leaving it running as he jumped out and sprinted to the door. Pounding his fist heavily against it, he shouted, “Emily, open up! Are you okay?”
Growing impatient, he pounded on the door again. A moment later, he heard a woman’s voice call out, “I’m coming, hold your horses!”
The moment the door opened, Roman stepped inside and called out, “Emily, where are you?” He charged through the foyer, noticing the luggage by the staircase. Just as he started to make his way up the stairs, he heard Agnes say, “She’s not here.”
He stopped in his tracks and turned to face Agnes. “Where is she?”
“She’s been arrested,” Agnes replied.
“For what?” he asked, stunned.
“Murder,” she said.
“Who?” Roman’s expression reflected the gravity of the situation.
“Some woman named Maggie Culliver.”
Without another word, Roman bolted out of the house, jumped into his car, and sped away.