“He shoved it into my hands and said, ‘Take this.'”
“You threw it down.”
“I realized what it was.”
“And then you picked it up again?”
“No.”
“On the video—”
“Howard picked it up.”
I remembered.
She was right.
The footage had shown one of them retrieving the object.
At that distance, we had assumed Denise did.
“He put it in the truck.”
“Then how did police find it in the garage?”
“I don’t know.”
A terrible thought formed.
“Howard went back.”
Denise became very still.
“What?”
“After you left.”
“No.”
“What if he dropped you off and returned?”
Her face drained.
“He couldn’t have.”
“Why?”
“Because—”
She stopped.
“Because what?”
Denise stared at me through the glass.
“Because when we got home, Howard left again.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“He told me he was going to a bar.”
“What time?”
“Around midnight.”
The fire call came at 12:07.
