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“Rebecca’s right, though,” Jon added. “He doesn’t have children, but he does have a scar just like you described on his upper arm. It was from when he?—”

Jon broke off mid-sentence, looking at his wife, as if waiting for her to throw some sort of lifeline. She offered none. He opened his mouth as if he was about to continue but then clamped it shut again.

“Mr. Lee?” Josie prompted.

With a sigh, Rebecca stood up and went to the counter for some paper towels. “Really, Jon. Just tell them.”

Still, he said nothing. Finally, Gretchen said, “Let’s just get some basic information for now. You two have the same last name?”

Jon nodded.

Gretchen jotted the name down. They’d look Seth up on one of the mobile data terminals as soon as they left the house. “Seth Lee. How old is he?”

“Younger than me. Forty-eight this year, I believe.”

Jumping in, Josie asked, “Is he violent?”

Jon stole another glance at his wife. “No, nothing like that.”

Rebecca sopped up her spilled tea with the paper towels. “Seth has some issues. He’s always struggled.”

Josie retrieved more paper towels, handing them to Rebecca so that she could blot the warrant. “Struggled with what?”

“Mental health.” Rebecca worked at the pages of the warrant, but the ink had already blurred in most places. “You have to understand that what I say here is my personal opinion. I’ve never treated Seth. He’s never been a patient. I would never see him—not that he would agree to any type of mental health treatment—because it’s a conflict of interest.”

“But you are a psychologist,” Josie said. “Kind of like a doctor is always a doctor even if they’re not seeing patients.”

Rebecca smiled tightly. “Yes. If I was a dermatologist, I might see someone in the grocery store with a rash on their hands and have a strong suspicion of what it was because that’s my field.”

“But you can’t say for sure…” Jon began but trailed off when Rebecca scowled at him.

“I know he’s your baby brother, Jon, but this needs to stop.”

He stepped toward her, his tone pleading. “You don’t understand what he went through, Bec. In the army?—”

Rebecca threw down a sopping wet handful of paper towels, wetting the warrant all over again. “Nothing happened to him in the army, Jon! That’s a fiction that his brain created. It’s all part of his disorder.”

“He said that things happened to him while he was in that made him the way he is.”

“No, Jon. That is coming from his disorder. Even if he’d never joined the army, he would still be like this! Don’t you get it?”

“How do you know that?” Jon pushed. “How can you know that?”

Rebecca’s voice rose to a shout, causing all three of them to jump. “Because it’s my goddamn job, Jon! Do we have to have this same fight again? I thought we settled this years ago.”

Jon pointed a trembling finger at her. “You decided this.”

Rebecca rushed around the table. For a moment, Josie wondered if they were going to have to break up a physical altercation between the spouses. “You want to point fingers?” Rebecca spat. “You lied to me. Again. Like the time you rented him that apartment without telling me—without even consulting me! How long has he been coming here? How long have you been helping him?”

Jon lowered his arm, suddenly not able to meet his wife’s eyes.

With a huff, Rebecca threw her arms in the air and let them fall to her sides. “Unbelievable. Since we took over this place, then. Absolutely unbelievable.”

“I told him he couldn’t come any further onto the property,” Jon said quietly. “He agreed to only come when he was in dire need of food. There is no harm in letting him access the produce stand.”

Rebecca strode back to the table and fisted a page of the warrant, shaking it. Pieces of moist paper broke off and fell to the floor. “No harm, Jon? No harm? One of our clients was stabbed today! At the produce stand! Tell me it wasn’t him? It’s the same damn scar!”

“He wouldn’t be meeting Mira!” Jon roared, whatever was left of his self-control slipping. “They don’t even know one another. If you would stop being such a fucking bitch for five seconds?—”

Gretchen was in front of Jon before Josie even saw her move, making him back up into the other room with her proximity. “That’s enough. Mr. Lee, I’d like you to step outside with me for a few minutes.”

When he didn’t move, Gretchen used her notebook to gesture toward the door and said in her most stern, no-nonsense voice, “Now, Mr. Lee.”

This seemed to get through to him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I got angry. I’m sorry.”

“We’ll talk outside,” Gretchen told him. “There’s a uniformed officer out there I’d like you to meet. He’ll keep you company while we finish speaking with your wife. You’ll calm down and then she’ll join you while we search the house. Let’s go.”

Once the door slammed, Rebecca sank back into her chair and put her face in her hands. Josie walked over and took the seat closest to her. “Should I be worried about leaving you alone with your husband when we finish what we’re doing here?”

Rebecca lifted her head and gave Josie a tired smile. “No. Jon won’t hurt me, and I can handle myself. It’s certainly not the first time we’ve resorted to name-calling in our marriage.”

Noah had never resorted to name-calling in their marriage, but Josie’s first husband, Ray, had—when he was drunk. Josie had never imagined he would hit her until he did. Then again, name-calling didn’t always escalate to physical abuse.

As if she could see Josie trying to work something out in her mind, Rebecca said, “Really, Detective. I’ll be fine. Jon just gets very worked up when it comes to Seth. He’s very protective.”

The back door slammed again. A moment later, Gretchen appeared. She pulled out the chair opposite Josie and sat. “Mr. Lee has declined to discuss his brother at this time.”

“I’m sure,” Rebecca said.

“Do you mind telling us what you can about Seth?” asked Josie.

Rebecca gave them a sad smile. “Would you like some tea before we begin?”