He looked toward the hallway.
“I don’t have it.”
“The police should.”
“They took pictures.”
“Excellent.”
I smiled without warmth.
“Then this should be easy.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
“Valerie.”
“What?”
“Do not turn this into one of your investigations.”
That sentence bothered me.
He knew exactly what I was capable of when I stopped behaving like a wife and started behaving like an officer.
“I’m asking why you were at my mother’s house at two in the morning.”
“I told you.”
“She called.”
“What time?”
“Around one.”
“Show me.”
He stopped.
“Show me the call.”
His expression hardened.
“My phone is with an officer.”
“Good.”
“Then they can verify it.”
He did not answer.
A woman in plain clothes entered the lobby.
Detective Sarah Keene.
She introduced herself.
Then looked at Julian.
“Mr. Vance, I need you to wait over there.”
He frowned.
“My wife just arrived.”
“I understand.”
“Please wait.”
Julian looked at me.
“Val.”
I did not respond.
He walked away.
Detective Keene turned toward me.
“Your mother requested you.”
“Is she under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then I want to see her.”
“She’s being medically assessed now.”
That relieved me slightly.
“What happened according to your husband?”
The detective’s expression remained neutral.
“He reports your mother threatened him with a fireplace implement.”
“What implement?”
“A black iron poker.”
There it was again.
Specific.
Not uncertain.
Not a vague object.
Black.
Iron.
Poker.
I nodded.
“I need to tell you something before you continue relying on that statement.”
She watched me.
“There has been no black iron poker in that house for fourteen months.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“You’re certain?”
