“Finally.” Selina shot a glare at the detective we were familiar with. He’d been the one who’d come to the hospital to take my initial statement, the day after the fire.
“We apologize for keeping you waiting, Mrs. Knight. But new information about your husband’s case has come in. We wanted to be sure we had all the facts before we discussed them with you.”
Selina sighed. “Fine, but can we make this snappy? We have a meeting at my niece’s new school tomorrow, and I don’t want her exhausted for it.”
It wasn’t late. Most ten-year-olds probably had later bedtimes, but nobody argued with Selina about it.
The detective turned to me. “Ah, that’s right. Orientation at Edgely Academy. That’ll be a big change for you all. Never in a million years would have thought they’d be turning the boys school co-ed. I hear they’re already building new wings to accommodate you all.”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t in the mood for idle chitchat. And starting a new school year at Edgely Academy didn’t exactly thrill me with joy. Especially because we all knew the reason nobody could go back to our old school.
Appin seemed to get the idea I wasn’t interested and opened a folder on the table. “Right. Well, we’ve asked you both down here tonight because Lawson’s autopsy results came back.”
“Yes? So? We already know he died in the fire. This isn’t news.”
Appin grimaced. “Actually, he didn’t. The autopsy results found he was already dead before the fire started.”
My aunt let out a gasp, but my brain worked quicker. “How?” I demanded. “A heart attack? Stroke?”
The detective cocked his head to the side. “Stab wound.”
“What?” I choked out. “No, that can’t be right. I would have seen the blood…” Wouldn’t I? I tried to think back, but all I could remember were flames and heat. The floorboards in Lawson’s office were dark. Could I have missed that he was lying there, bleeding to death? Bile rose in my throat as I realized I couldn’t recall paying any attention to the floor. Why would I have? The walls being eaten up by flames had been kind of distracting.
Selina let out a cry of pain that ripped me in half.
I tugged my chair closer to hers and stretched my arms around her narrow shoulders. “Sssh, Sel. It’ll be okay.”
She trembled beneath my touch but then hugged me back hard. “Why?” she whispered. “He was a good man. There was no reason for anyone to hurt him.” She choked on the last words, but I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing.
“That’s what we now have to work out.” He turned to me, his calculating gaze sweeping my body. My skin crawled.
“Don’t even think about accusing my niece.” Selina’s voice sharpened into steel. “Lawson was the only father she knows and she nearly died in that fire herself. There’s no way she did this.”
The detective folded his arms across his burly chest. “And you, Mrs. Knight?”
If this situation hadn’t been so bleak, I would have laughed. My aunt was three inches shorter than me, making her a full foot shorter than my uncle had been. She barely ate and probably weighed one hundred and twenty pounds on a fat day. But besides all that, the woman wouldn’t hurt a fly. She might have been a bit of a snob, and too focused on her looks, but she was also the woman who put milk out each night for a too-skinny neighborhood cat. And the woman who’d shooed the help away when my friends came over, because she wanted to make sandwiches for us herself. But most of all, she was the woman who worshipped the ground her husband had walked on. While her friends all slept with their gardeners, and men from their gyms, my aunt’s attention had never swayed. She’d met Lawson at the door every night, ready to kiss him and ask him about his day.
Selina’s gaze narrowed. “I was at home with a headache, and my entire staff can vouch for me. Don’t you people talk to each other? I’ve already told you this.” She pushed to her feet, hauling me up with her. “If you want to talk to us further, contact our lawyers. And in the meantime, how about you do your job?”
She dragged me toward the door, and the detectives made no move to stop her. But in the doorway, I put on the brakes.
“The man who pulled me from the fire. What do you know about him? Did you even investigate him?”
“We still have no proof there was anyone else there that night, but—”
My blood boiled. “Why do you need proof? I’m telling you someone was there. That makes me a witness!”
The detective held his hand up. “Stop. You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say, while we have found no proof of another person being in the building that night, we are taking your accusations seriously. We researched the letters you told us about. The ones you say were on the man’s shirt.”
I froze. “SVHF. You found out what they mean?”
The detective leafed through his papers. “We believe so. There were a few options, but we believe the most likely is Saint View High Football.”
“Saint View High?” my aunt asked. “You think one of the thugs from that God-awful hellhole of a town killed my husband?”
I mulled the idea over in my head. Saint View, despite its pleasant-sounding name, was anything but. Saint View was the wrong side of the tracks so to speak. Inside the Providence estate where we lived, there wasn’t a house worth less than two million dollars. The developers had bought out a huge area of old buildings and bulldozed as much as they could. The school and the church had been the only things left, and only for the fact they were heritage listed and the local politicians wouldn’t allow them to be torn down. But just fifteen minutes across town, outside the gates of our community, the suburb of Saint View sat, an ugly blip on the radar. Mostly full of low-income housing, it was a notorious hot spot for criminals, drugs, and violence.
“We have no suspects at this stage. Just…interests.” He narrowed his eyes at me when he said it.
I wasn’t intimidated. I had nothing to hide. I took two steps back into the room and placed my hands on the table, leaning down so I was eye height with the detective. Amusement sparkled in his eye.
“You can suspect me all you want, Detective. But you’re wasting your time. I suggest you look elsewhere. Before you botch up yet another investigation.”
I shoved the table, hard enough for it to push into Appin’s belly, but he didn’t comment. He knew what I was talking about. He’d been the detective on my parents’ case years ago.
He’d failed then. But I wasn’t a helpless five-year-old anymore. I wasn’t going to take his ineptitude lying down this time. I’d be down here at his office every damn day until he worked out who’d murdered my uncle.
Selina and I were both quiet on the drive home. She stared out the window and clenched her fingers around the strap of her bag in an attempt to keep them from trembling. I drove, eyes trained to the road, apart from the odd glance to the passenger seat to make sure my aunt was okay.
“I can’t believe this,” she whispered eventually. She seemed smaller, her slight frame hunched in on itself. “Why would someone want to do this to him? He was a good man. Everybody liked him.”