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“I said nothing of the sort!” I exclaimed, but then I paused—because Ididsay that going home wasn’t an option. Maybe the detectives had twisted her words.

Or maybe shehad twisted mine. My heart sank.

“And your husband broke into the Miller household a few weeks ago—”

“He did not!” I exclaimed. “Lizzie Miller made that up.” I squeezed my eyes closed. “Or her brother, maybe. I don’t know for sure.”

Johnson sighed impatiently.

“So your story is that Lizzie Miller made up a story about your husband breaking into her house and that Henry Davis just appeared at your window this morning and, without provocation, shot Jürgen and then ran away.”

“He’s been harassing us,” I said, eyes filling with tears of frustration. “He broke into our house! He threw a cake at me! He’s been walking up and down our street staring at me. For all I know, he’s been the one paintingthat wordon the road outside of our house.”

“I didn’t see those reports on file,” Johnson remarked, almost smug. “Did I miss them? Should I take another look?”

“Jürgen spoke to you the first time that graffiti was found and you told him to just paint over it,” I said flatly. “We didn’t bother calling again after that. It was obvious you were not going to help us.”

“I hear you,” Tucker said, dropping his tone, as if to de-escalate the tension. I drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm myself. “But what I don’t understand is why no onewe’ve interviewed so far can confirm a single thing you’ve just told us. Avril tells me you and she have become quite close, yet she didn’t mention a thing about this potential—what, assault by dinner plate? Or a break-in? Or Henry Davis lingering outside your house? If any of that really happened, Mrs. Rhodes, you must have been distressed—why didn’t you tellanyone? We even asked Klaus Schmidt and some of your other neighbors if they’d noticed anything unusual at your house. They all told us about the graffiti and that sceneyoucaused at the Redstone Arsenal picnic, but had nothing else to report.”

“When Jürgen wakes up, he’ll tell you,” I whispered fiercely.

“If he wakes up,” Johnson said flatly. “I got the impression that was far from a sure thing when I spoke to the hospital earlier.”

I stared at them helplessly, but then a thought struck me. Therewereother people who knew at least part of what had been going on.

“Talk to Lizzie or Calvin Miller.”

After that, they moved me back to the cell.