First Lie Wins(85)

“Detectives,” she finally says, “we’ve come all this way, and yet there’s absolutely nothing connecting my client to the death of Amy Holder. Now unless there’s something else . . .”

“We will check into this new information. But to make sure we cover everything we need from you, can you tell us where you were the night of August twenty-seventh?” They’re not ready to pull the plug on this yet.

I relax in my chair. Calm. Controlled.

“I looked back at my calendar after I learned from the police in Lake Forbing there was a warrant out for me, so I could see where I was when Amy died. I went to a friend’s house that night for dinner. He and his wife just had a baby and they invited me over to see him.”

The only lie in my response was the date of the dinner. That dinner took place the week before.

Detective West has her pen poised over her notebook. “Can you give us the name and number of who you dined with that evening?”

“Yes, of course. His name is Tyron Nichols.”

Detective Crofton’s head pops up. “Tyron Nichols who plays for the Falcons?”

I smile. “Yes, he’s an old friend.”

Another truth.

Holding up my phone, I say, “I told him I had an appointment with you this morning. He said to call if you need to verify anything with him. Would you like me to get him on the line? I know he’d rather me not give out his private number if it can be helped.”

Detective Crofton jumps at the chance to talk to one of the best-known players on the Atlanta Falcons.

I decide to FaceTime him because seeing is believing.

Tyron appears on the screen. He’s sitting in his chair in his home office. On the wall behind him are framed prints, articles, and jerseys depicting his time playing football in high school in Central Florida, then later at Ole Miss under Coach Mitch Cameron, and then his rise to the NFL. He’s come a long way from that naive eighteen-year-old kid whose biggest dream was a full-ride scholarship to play college football in the hopes of one day being able to give his family a better life.

“Hey, girl,” he says in his big booming voice.

“Hey, Tyron. Do you have a sec to talk to these detectives?” I roll my eyes for good measure.

“Sure, put ’em on.”

I hand my phone to Detective Crofton, who looks absolutely giddy. “Yes, hello, Mr. Nichols. I’m Detective Crofton with the Atlanta PD. We need to verify Miss Porter’s whereabouts the night of August twenty-seventh. She says she was at your home that evening.”

I sit back in my chair and find Rachel staring at me again. I give her a small smile.

“Of course,” Tyron says. “She was here that night. It was the week of our home game against the Saints. During the season, Tuesday nights are the only nights I’m home for dinner, so that was the best time for her to come over and see our son.”

Detective Crofton is satisfied but Detective West is less starstruck and has another question. “What time did Miss Porter arrive and depart from your home that night?”

“I picked her up after I left the practice facility, which would have been around five. She stayed pretty late since we haven’t seen each other in a while. Her and my wife got into a bottle of wine sometime around nine or ten, I guess?” He lets out a loud laugh. “And then, of course, they had to break out the karaoke machine. Lord, those two think they can sing.”

Locked up tight.

Detective Crofton says, “Thank you. We’ve got everything we need. We appreciate your cooperation.”

“Sure, anytime,” Tyron says.

Detective Crofton hands the phone back to me and I look at Tyron on the screen. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

He laughs. “No problem. You’re coming by for dinner since you’re in town, right? You won’t believe how big Jayden has gotten.”

“Of course! I’ll call you when I leave here and we’ll make a plan.”

I end the call and turn my attention to the detectives.

They are looking at me, then they look at each other, sharing a silent communication.

Detective West closes her notebook. “I think that covers everything we have for today. If we have any further questions for Miss Porter, we’ll be in touch.”

It only takes a few seconds for them to pack their belongings and leave the meeting room.

Rachel and I are still sitting across from each other.

“You didn’t know who Lucca Marino was when she first showed up with James at the Derby party,” she says.

I shake my head. “If you remember correctly, I mentioned he showed up with a woman. I didn’t comment on whether or not I knew her.”

This is why I tell the truth as often as I can.

Rachel gets up from her chair and smooths down her skirt. “Well, this seems like it’s all wrapped up in a neat little bow.”

I shrug. “I’m just relieved it’s over.” It’s not over. Not for me. While I’ve dealt with one of the threats against me, it’s the other one that poses the greatest danger.

She grabs her briefcase and heads toward the door but doesn’t open it. “Yes, me too. I’d hate to think you had anything to do with that woman’s death.”

Looking right at her, I say, “If there’s one thing you can believe to be true, Lucca Marino was the woman in the room with her that day.”