An accent?No.
Did he sound familiar?No.
Was he tall? Short?I couldn’t really tell. I was in bed, looking up at him. Maybe six feet tall? Maybe?
How was his hair? Short? Long? Bald?He had on a hat. Wait, a ski mask.
Did he move smoothly? Limp? Have any distinguishable characteristics whatsoever?
No.
No.
No.
As she moved through the questions, she grew more and more frustrated at how inept Matt’s observation skills were.I know,I wanted to chime in.You have no idea how many affairs I’ve carried on right underneath his nose! I’m not surprised he had a gun stuck in his mouth and still didn’t manage to pay attention.
“Is something funny, Mrs. Ryder?”
I sat straighter in my seat. “No.”
“You’re smiling,” she pointed out. “Surely you don’t find this amusing.”
Matt was looking at me now, his features pinching in annoyance. A burst of anger popped in my chest. It was three in the morning! How was anyone supposed to keep their wits about them at this ungodly hour? “I’m exhausted.” I rose to my feet. “Can we finish these questions in the morning? I didn’t even see the guy. Or hear him.”
“Yes ...,” she said slowly. “Because you ‘slept right through it all.’” She put air quotes around the last part of the sentence, and I gawked at her nerve.
“I told you what happened. I woke up with Matt screaming at me to call 9-1-1 as he ran downstairs.” I glared at her and dared her to call me a liar.
“Mrs. Ryder—”
“Dr. Ryder,” I corrected, unable to let another flub pass.
“This is going to take some time. Perhaps you could get some coffee while I finish up with your husband?”
“Fine.” I moved away before she had a chance to change her mind. Spotting a handsome uniform dusting the back doorknob for prints, I ran my fingers through my hair and decided to detour by the bathroom and take a moment to freshen up.
Inside the bathroom, I tried William’s cell, but for the third time that night, he didn’t answer.
Detective Cullen found me in the dining room, one of our mugs in her spindly hand. I eyed the coffee and wondered if Matt had offered it to her or if she’d helped herself. Brushing off the thought, I gestured her closer and lowered my voice, making sure Matt wasn’t nearby. “I’ve been thinking, and it’s possible Matt imagined this entire thing. A stranger, in our house in the middle of the night? No forced entry? He put his gun in Matt’s mouth and then the thing misfired?” I clutched my own coffee cup, the contents now lukewarm, and glanced at the evidence teams scattered across every area of our home. “Have you foundanyevidence there was anyone here? Any bullet holes? Fingerprints?”
The woman nodded slowly, considering the idea. “So, you think your husband made the entire thing up?”
“He takes sleeping pills at night.” I shrugged, encouraged by her open reaction. “Maybe he thought it happened and it didn’t.”
“On the 9-1-1 call, you said there was an intruder.” Her voice was hardening, incredulity beginning to coat the syllables.
“It was dark in the bedroom. I woke up to him yelling at me to call 9-1-1. I was half-asleep during that call. But we have no security footage, no footprints, and Matt’s given you a hazy description that could fit anyone from Pee-wee Herman to Arnold Schwarzenegger.” I stood from the seat, my voice rising in vigor. “You could be looking for someone that isn’t out there. Wouldn’t you rather go home? And besides—are you even allowed to be looking through all of our things? Don’t you need a warrant for that?”
“Neena.”
I stiffened at the flat sound of Matt’s voice and turned to see him standing just inside the back door, his features eerily still, his eyes dead. “May I speak to you for a moment?”
CHAPTER 40
CAT
I stood on the upper balcony and watched as the cars clogged the Ryders’ long lot, black-and-whites with the official seal of Atherton, their lights on, sirens silent. In the dark, black figures with sweeping white beams of illumination moved, their progress partially hidden by shrubbery and trees, their canvass slow and methodical.