The doorbell rang.
Everyone froze.
Margaret glanced toward the front hallway. “That would be them.”
Lisa’s breath came in short, ragged gasps. “No. No, Timothy, do something. Say something.”
He didn’t move.
The doorbell rang again.
Margaret walked slowly toward the front door. Her footsteps were the only sound in the house.
Nicole Harper grabbed her coat. Jessica Monroe was already halfway out of her chair. Amanda Price whispered something urgent to her husband.
Margaret opened the door.
Two police officers stood on the porch, their uniforms dark against the warm glow spilling from inside the house.
“Margaret Holloway?” the taller officer asked.
“Yes.”
“We’re here regarding the report filed this morning.”
Margaret stepped aside. “She’s in the dining room.”
Lisa stood in the doorway between the dining room and the hall, her face streaked with tears, her hands gripping the doorframe like it was the only thing holding her up.
The officers stepped inside.
“Lisa Holloway?”
She nodded.
“We need you to come with us. We have some questions regarding financial transactions connected to your husband’s business.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Lisa whispered.
The second officer pulled out a small notebook. “Ma’am, you have the right to remain silent—”
“No.” Lisa’s voice cracked. “No, this is a mistake. Timothy, tell them. Tell them this is a mistake.”
Timothy stood frozen in the dining room, surrounded by overturned chairs and half-empty wineglasses and guests who were quietly gathering their things.
He looked at his wife.
He looked at his mother.
And he said nothing.
Lisa’s face collapsed. She let go of the doorframe and walked slowly toward the officers, her silk dress whispering against the floor.
The taller officer took her gently by the arm. “We’ll need you to come down to the station.”
Lisa looked back one last time. “I hate you,” she said to Margaret. “I hate you so much.”
Margaret met her gaze without flinching. “I know.”
