Gray was reviewing a proposal for a new app when the police arrived. Their efficiency surprised him; he hadn't expected the corpse identification and phone records to be processed so quickly.

"Good morning, Detectives. What can I do for you?" he asked calmly as they entered his office, flashed their badges, and sat down.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions about Lacy Knighton."

He knew he had to remain calm. Feigning ignorance was his best strategy.

"What about her?"

"Let's start with how you know her," the female detective said.

He shrugged. "We have a mutual friend. I met her at a bar last April, and we hit it off."

This was close enough to the truth. He knew it was better to omit details than fabricate outright lies; it made remembering his story easier.

The police had nothing concrete on him. As long as he didn't slip up, he'd be fine. His time in foster care had taught him to mask his emotions—a valuable, albeit unfortunate, lesson.

"Your secretary told us she visits frequently," the male detective said.

Gray regretted not paying closer attention to their names. His nerves had distracted him.

"Socialites have a lot of free time. It was easier for her to come here than for me to go to her."

"She also said you had Lacy removed by security last Thursday. Care to explain?" the male detective asked sharply.

This was critical. One wrong word, and he was finished. He needed to remain nonchalant, perhaps even slightly rueful. He adjusted his tone accordingly.

"Unfortunately, Lacy overstepped the boundaries of our friendship. She seemed disoriented when she visited, but I certainly didn't expect her to become violent and try to kiss me. I had to get two security guards to help remove her; you can speak to them."

The detectives' expressions remained unreadable, increasing his unease, but he didn't let it show.

"What are their names? We'll be speaking with them as well."

"Mitchell Swenson and Joseph Parker. They should be in the office now. You can speak with them after we're finished," Gray said pleasantly, striving to appear cooperative.

It was in his best interest to seem concerned about Lacy. He adopted a worried expression.

"Detective, did something happen to Lacy? Is that why you're asking about her?"

"Tell me more about removing her from your office before I answer your questions. What time did this happen? And what did you do afterward until 7 p.m.?"

He feigned concern, almost convincingly. Perhaps acting was a missed vocation. He'd rehearsed this part countless times.

"The timeI hadn't been back from lunch long when she arrivedaround 12:40 p.m.? Security footage should show her being escorted from the lobby with a timestamp. You might want to check with Mitchell or Joseph.

"Afterward, it took about twenty minutes to refocus, but I worked on reports until my three o'clock appointment with Charles Bower arrived. We talked for nearly two hours. After that, I stayed in the office until six and drove home."

The male detective took notes while the female detective recorded the conversation. The worst seemed to be over.

"Can you tell me what happened to Lacy now?" he asked, feigning worry.

The female detective looked up. "I'm sorry to tell you this, Mr. Meyer, but Lacy Knighton was murdered last Thursday. It appears to have been a mugging. We're trying to determine who last saw her."

Gray feigned shock. "Murdered! How horrible! Poor Lacy…"

"Indeed. We'll be speaking to your security guards. If we have any further questions, we'll contact you. Please let us know if you recall anything else helpful, such as if she mentioned any plans before leaving."

The male detective handed him a card. Gray nodded silently, maintaining the pretense of grief. Once they left, he loosened his tie; the office suddenly felt stifling.

Keeley was changing Violet's diaper when the intercom buzzed. The doorman's voice announced the arrival of police officers seeking her husband.

"Mrs. Hale, there are police officers here to speak with your husband. Should I tell them to return later?"

They'd finally realized Lacy's obsession with Aaron. She'd anticipated this, but not so soon. She glanced at the clock. Aaron usually arrived home around now.

"Let them up. He should be home within fifteen minutes. Tell them to meet me on the second floor. I can't leave the babies unattended to greet them at the elevator."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied respectfully.

She still wasn't sure if the doorman was judging her about the incident a few days after Valentine's Day. His professionalism had remained consistent.

The police arrived a few minutes later, identifying themselves as Detectives Flynn and Ruano.

"Mrs. Hale, the doorman said your husband should be home within fifteen minutes. Is that correct?"

She nodded. "He usually arrives between 5:50 and 6:15 p.m., depending on traffic. May I ask what this is about?"

"We'd like to ask him a few questions about an acquaintance," Detective Ruano said.

So they weren't revealing the murder investigation. Interesting. She'd never been interrogated and didn't know their typical methods.

Kaleb started fussing. She apologized and picked him up from his bouncer. He likely needed a diaper change, but she preferred to wait until Aaron arrived to keep the detectives occupied.

Detective Flynn offered a reassuring smile. "Your children are beautiful."

"Thank you."

Aaron's voice drifted up the stairs. "Sweetheart, I'm home! What's for dinner? I'm starving."

He froze at the top of the stairs, seeing his wife with two strangers.

"Aaron, these are Detectives Flynn and Ruano. They have some questions for you," she said calmly.

"About whom?" he asked, playing along.

"Lacy Knighton. I believe she's a friend of yours?"

"I wouldn't use that word. I saw her a few times a year at social events, at most," Aaron said firmly.

"Mrs. Hale, could we speak with your husband alone?" Detective Flynn asked.

She nodded and took Kaleb upstairs. Aaron helped her with Violet before returning to face the detectives. She kissed him for luck, unable to speak her concerns aloud.