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“Alexandra Quinlan.”
“Okay, Alexandra. Again, my name’s Detective Alvarez and I’m here to help you, okay? But only if you’re honest with me. If you lie to me, well then, I can’t help you. You understand?”
“Are you sure they’re dead?” Alexandra asked. “I never really checked.”
“Yes,” the detective said. “They’re dead. The two adults at the house, they were your parents?”
“Yes.”
“And the boy was your brother?”
“Yes. Raymond.”
“How old are you, Alexandra?”
“Eighteen. I mean, I’m going to be eighteen in a few days.”
“Were you having an argument with your parents?”
She looked up at him. The first attempt at eye contact. She shook her head slowly. “No.”
“So what happened last night?”
“Nothing. I just went to sleep after I finished my homework.”
“Whose gun were you holding when the police arrived?”
“The gun?”
“Yes. You were holding a shotgun when the police came into your parents’ room. Whose gun was it?”
“My dad’s, I think.”
“You think? Where did you get it from?”
“He normally kept it in the garage.”
“So you got it from the garage?”
“No.”
“Then where did you get the gun, Alexandra?”
“It was in the foyer.”
The detective paused, and Donna saw that he was attempting to piece together what little he knew about the scene so far.
“The gun was in the foyer of your home?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hide it there?”
“Did I do what?”
“Did you hide the gun in the foyer?”
“No, it was just on the floor, so I picked it up.”
