Page 94 of Trust No One

“Now?”

“Yeah. Now. You’re now charged with first-degree murder.”

“I didn’t kill my wife.”

“We need to prove it.”

His head dropped back against the headrest. “I thought our marriage was good,” Gabe said. “Not perfect. But good.”

“You’ve admitted to an affair.”

“We’d have figured it out. I never would’ve left her.”

“The news is getting out. People are filling in the gaps, and I can promise you, you aren’t the hero of these stories.”

“Where’s Molly?”

“At preschool.”

“Mom sent her?”

“She did.”

He shook his head. “She shouldn’t be at school.”

“I’ll pick her up soon.”

“I’m hungry,” he muttered.

“Okay.”

His body was tense, rigid, as he settled into a sullen silence. I drove down Route 250 away from the city. We stopped at a roadside diner open twenty-four hours a day. This time of day, we’d slid in between breakfast and lunch.

Inside, we sat in a back booth far away from the door. I grabbed menus from the holder. The waitress glanced at us. The hitch in her gaze as she took our orders told me she’d recognized us.

When our burgers arrived, I let Gabe eat and sip from his soda. I nibbled on a few fries. When he was nearly finished, I sat back. “Why would you want to kill Maria?”

He swiped mustard from his lips with a paper napkin. “I told you, I didn’t.” His eyes watered. “My wife is dead. I should be mourning, not getting hit with questions like this.”

“Get used to hard questions.”

He brushed away a tear. “Do I look like a killer?”

Feed Gabe to the wolves.

“I’ve seen killers mourn their victims.”

“Damn, Raine. When did you become so hard?”

“Life in the big city. Why did you kill your wife?”

He tossed his balled-up napkin on the plate. “I’m not playing this game. You and Judson both want to put this on me.”

“What did Judson say to you?”

“He said he found cyanide in my truck’s toolbox. It’s a trick. He’s lying.”

“That should have been the first comment out of your mouth when I picked you up. Not telling me reads like you’re hiding something.”