“Okay,” Margot said skeptically. “What’s the over-under on their divorce?”
When the mystery number was answered, Burns and Goldman thought that was a win. Luna bringing in her husband’s DNA, that was too easy. Burns wasn’t quite as excited about the new development as Goldman was.
When Noah returned to the interview room, he found Luna resting her head on the table, her arm shielding her eyes. She didn’t lift her head when he entered. She didn’t move. He thought there was a chance she was asleep. Burns once told him that innocent people don’t fall asleep when being interrogated about murder. He wasn’t sure if it applied in this situation, since Luna was low on the list of possible shooters.
Luna was not, in fact, asleep. The fluorescent lights were making her eyes blurry. She felt the familiar knock on the inside of her temple. The feeling of not being fully present. She had taken her meds and hadn’t had a seizure in years. But she wanted to do whatever she could to avoid that possibility.
“Ms. Grey,” Goldman said, “are you awake?”
“Of course,” Luna said, keeping her head down. “Would it be weird if I asked you to turn off the lights?”
“Migraines?” he asked, flicking off the three light switches.
“Seizures. Rarely, these days,” Luna said, lifting her head and adjusting to the welcome darkness. “But there’s always a warning.”
There was just one small window in the interview room. Outside, the sky was dull and overcast. The dim light made the room feel oddly intimate.
“Better?” Goldman asked.
“Thank you,” Luna said.
Goldman took his seat. “We appreciate you bringing in the…uh—” Goldman began.
“Even if Sam’s DNA matches what you found on the body, it doesn’t mean he killed her,” Luna said.
“No. It doesn’t. But it helps. We could at least exclude your husband,” Detective Goldman said.
“Right,” Luna said.
“Where was your husband the morning of Monday, October 7?”
“He left for work before I woke up,” Luna said.
“Around what time was that?”
“He usually wakes up before six a.m.”
“Did he wake you?”
Luna paused before answering. “We don’t sleep in the same room.”
“Because of his early mornings?”
“That might be one of the reasons.”
“Was your marriage in trouble?” Goldman asked.
“Clearly it was,” Luna said. “But I’m not sure I would have said so before I answered that phone.”
“So, how would you have described your marriage yesterday morning?” Goldman asked.
“I don’t know,” Luna said.
She felt an oppressive exhaustion wash over her.
“Did you fight?”
“Not often,” Luna said.
“So, you didn’t sleep in the same bed and you didn’t fight,” Goldman said.
He was getting a decent picture of the union.
“It sounds passionless, I know,” Luna said.
Luna had to admit that their sex life had waned. Was that before or after Sam started up with Irene? She didn’t know when they started up, so she couldn’t say. The interview felt more like a therapy session than an interrogation.
“Was it?” he asked.
Luna wasn’t going to offer intimate details of her marriage. To a psychiatrist she might have admitted that she and Sam were like friends with benefits who resided under the same roof. Weird, but efficient.
“It was always easy with Sam. I never had to explain myself. I think we had similar dispositions. I couldn’t be around another person all the time. Neither could he. At least that’s what I believed. Maybe he was lonelier than I thought. Whatever happened with Irene has nothing to do with her death.”
“You sure about that?” Goldman asked.
“What’s his motive?” Luna asked. “I don’t see one.”
“Maybe the relationship with Irene was the only good thing he had. Maybe she wanted to end it and he couldn’t bear the thought of that.”
“That’s another man you’re talking about.”
“How do you mean?”
“You’re describing a man who’s out of control.”
“Sam likes to be in control?” Goldman said.
Luna realized that her description of Sam was not helping his case. “Look, I gave you Sam’s toothbrush because I knew you’d want his DNA. And I knew you’d have to look at him for this. Still, I don’t think Sam did it.”