Genuine Lies

couldn’t seem to swallow. They kept the room too warm, a few degreeswarmer than comfort. Beneath her dark suit her skin was damp. She could smell her own fear. Sometimes her voice shook, but she clamped down on the rising bubbles of hysteria until it was steady again.
    They were so patient, so tenacious with their questions. And polite, so very polite.
    Miss Summers, you did threaten to kill Miss Benedict?
    Did you know she’d changed her will, Miss Summers?
    Miss Summers, didn’t Miss Benedict come to see you on the day of the murder? Did you argue again? Did you lose your temper?
    No matter how often she answered, they would wind their way around until she had to answer again.
    She’d lost track of time. She might have been in that small, windowless room for an hour, or a day. Occasionally, she would find her mind wandering, simply going away.
    She wanted to be certain that Brandon got his supper. She had to help him study for a geography test. While her brain took these short trips into the simple and the ordinary, she answered.
    Yes, she had argued with Eve. She had been angry and upset. No, she couldn’t remember exactly what she had said. They had never discussed the changes in the will. No, never. She might have touched the murder weapon. It was hard to be sure. No, she hadn’t been aware of the details of Eve’s will. Yes, yes, the door had been locked when she’d arrived home. No, she wasn’t aware if anyone had seen her after she’d passed through the gates.
    Again and again she went over her movements on the day of the murder, picking her way carefully through the maze, treading on her own footsteps.
    Julia struggled to divorce her mind from her body through the booking procedure. She stared straight ahead when she was ordered, blinked at the flash of light as her picture was taken for the files. She turned her profile.
    They’d taken her jewlery, her bag, her dignity. All she had to cling to now was the shreds of pride.
    They led her to the cell where she would wait until her bail was set and paid. Murder, she thought dizzily. She had just been booked for second degree murder. She’d made some horribly wrong turn in the maze.
    At the clang of the metal doors, panic ripped through her. She nearly screamed out, then tasted blood as she bit through her bottom lip. Oh, God, don’t put me in here. Don’t lock me inside this cage.
    Gasping for breath, she sat on the edge of the bunk, clasped her hands in her lap and held on. She would swear the air stalled when it reached the bars. Someone was swearing, low, foul obscenities rattled off like a laundry list. She could hear the whine of junkies, the bitching of hookers. Someone was crying, low, pitiful sobs that echoed endlessly.
    There was a sink bolted to the wall opposite the bunk, but she was afraid to use it. Though nausea rolled sickly in her stomach, she choked it back rather than crouch over the stained toilet.
    She would not be sick. And she would not break. How soon would the press find out? She could write the headlines herself.
EVE BENEDICT’S DAUGHTER ARRESTED
FOR HER MURDER
ABANDONED DAUGHTER’S REVENGE
THE SECRET THAT ENDED EVE’S LIFE
    Julia wondered if Eve would have appreciated the publicity, then pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a wild burst of laughter. No, not even Eve, with all her skill at manipulation, with all her clever ways of maneuvering the players in her own script, could have foreseen this kind of irony.
    When her hands began to shake, she went back to the bunk, pushing herself into the corner. With her knees up tightagainst her chest, she lowered her head to them and shut her eyes.
    Murder. The word swam through her mind. When her breath began to hitch, she squeezed her eyes tighter. Behind her eyes the scene played out as it had been described to her in the interrogation room.
    Arguing with Eve. The fury building. Her hand closing over the gleaming brass poker. One desperate violent swing. Blood. So much blood. Her own scream as Eve crumpled at her feet.
    “Summers.”
    Julia’s head jerked up. Her eyes were wild and blinked furiously to focus. Had she fallen asleep? All she knew was she was awake now, and still in the cell. But the door was open, and the guard was standing just inside.
    “You made bail.”
    Paul’s first impulse when he saw her was to rush over and hold her against him. One look told him she might crack like eggshells in his hand. More than comfort, he thought she needed