The grand stone house stood tall in the storm, its windows dark and imposing.

State police vehicles lined the gravel driveway, their lights painting the facade in red and blue.

Sophia and I walked up the stone steps, the rain beating against our jackets.

Two troopers pushed the heavy oak doors open, and we stepped into the grand foyer.

Margaret Reed sat in a wingback chair by the fireplace, a glass of amber liquid in her hand.

She didn’t look up as we entered.

She looked older, her sharp features hardened by the firelight.

“You’re tracking mud onto my rugs, Deputy,” Margaret said, her voice cold.

“I am a Detective now, Mrs. Reed,” Sophia said, stepping forward.

“And I have a warrant for your arrest.”

Margaret took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze drifting to me.

“You always were a disappointing husband for Emily, Daniel,” she said softly.

“You couldn’t even keep her happy.”

“She was happy until she realized what you were,” I said, my fists clenching at my sides.

“You killed her because she wouldn’t let you use the clinic for your money laundering.”