Page 16 of Lorenzo

“Could it have been later than you remember?”

“Well, it sure wasn’t 1:30.”

Julian watches him without reacting.

Alessio leans closer to the desk. “I was home before 1:00. I know that much.”

“You are certain?”

“Yes.”

“You had been drinking.”

Alessio gives a short, humorless laugh and sits back. “Hours before. I wasn't drunk.”

Julian glances down at the file. “The police are going to press that point.”

“They can press whatever they want. I left just after midnight.”

I pick up the still image and study it.

The man in the footage is clearly Alessio. His face is visible. His clothes match what he was wearing when the police took him from the house. Anyone looking at the image would know exactly who it is.

The time beneath him is the lie.

“What did the hotel give them?” I ask.

“More than this still.” Julian turns another page. “They have footage of Alessio entering with Genevieve. They have footage that shows him leaving at 1:30. At the moment, they are treating the timestamps as accurate.”

“What was the time of death?” I ask.

Julian’s gaze comes to mine.

“They put it between 12:30 and 1:00. That's an preliminary estimate until the autopsy.”

Alessio looks from Julian to me.

Then he reaches for the photograph again.

“No,” he says. “I was already gone.”

Julian says nothing.

“I was gone before 12:30,” Alessio continues. “I left her alive. I told you that.”

“I know what you told me.”

Alessio pushes the photograph away. “They have the wrong time.”

“They have a time that places you inside the hotel when they believe she was killed.”

“But I wasn’t there,” he insists.

Julian closes the folder halfway. “The case they are building does not depend on what you know happened. It depends on what they can put in front of a judge and eventually a jury.”

Alessio’s jaw tightens.

I recognize the moment his fear turns back into anger. Anger is easier for him. It gives him something more substantial to do. Fear makes you feel helpless, useless.