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“I need coffee,” I say, half to them, half to myself. They’re silent as I set the coffee maker. Next, I feed Captain, dumping more of Bob’s homemade concoction into his bowl. It’s getting pretty pungent, but Captain wolfs it right down. I put the container in the sink to remind myself to put the rest down the garbage disposal.
“Where were you yesterday, Julia?” says the sheriff when I finally lean against the counter and face the men, my back to the gurgling coffee maker.
“Like I said, lunch with a friend. You told me there was a new development. What is it?”
“First, I’d like you to walk me through Saturday night. In detail.”
I stare at him. Fuck.
“You can start when you’re ready,” prompts the sheriff.
I need a minute to think, so I wordlessly turn my back on him and open the cabinet. Rummage for a mug. Slowly. Take out the coffeepot and pour. Finally, I turn, mug in hand.
“Well, I’d just put Annaleigh down for her last nap around four when Josh started packing. I was upset because he didn’t tell me about his trip. He insisted he did.” I shrug as Deputy Adams scrawls on his notepad. “It’s possible I forgot. I’m in the sleep-deprived stage of parenting.”
“You need sleep, do you?” Mitchell’s gaze seems to undress me, past the clothes, down to the bone.
“As much as anyone else. And I’m not getting much.” I raise my mug. Hence the coffee, asshole.
Mitchell nods for me to continue.
“I followed Josh around while he packed. We were arguing. And... I opened a bottle of wine.”
“Are you a heavy drinker, Miz Walden?”
“No. I bought it for us to drink together. You know, date night in. But Josh was leaving, and he was mad at me, so I opened it. I thought it would help me relax. Josh doesn’t like it when I get stressed.”
“And then?”
“He left.”
“What time?”
“Um...six? I was a little drunk by then, honestly. And I’d put Annaleigh down for bed.”
“She’s a nursing infant, correct?” says the sheriff. “But you still chose to become inebriated?”
My cheeks flush. “Pump and dump.”
“Go on,” says Mitchell.
“While Josh was putting his gear in the car, I texted my friend. Andy.” I think I’m doing okay. If I can just skip past the gaps like they’re not there...
“Do you make a habit of inviting male friends over when your husband is gone?”
I flush hotter, but force myself to maintain eye contact.
“I didn’t want to be alone. Then I felt terrible that I was making Andy go out of his way. I actually texted him again and told him not to come after all.” I don’t remember doing this, but I’ve seen the texts. “But he didn’t listen.”
“Mr. Wekstein lives in Los Angeles, correct?” says Mitchell.
“Yes.”
“What’s he doing in Indiana?”
“He teaches at IU.”
“If your husband left at six, and witnesses saw him set up his tent around ten, how do you explain that the two-hour trip to Belmont Ridge took him four?” Mitchell steeples his fingers by his lips.
