“Ma’am.” Clarkston dips his chin before taking a seat across from her, while Jameson stands near the door.
“Will someone just please tell me why I’m here?” Corina pleads, wrapping her sweater around her middle, hugging herself. “I’ve been here for hours, and no one has been in to tell me anything.” She’s so convincing it’s almost scary to watch. She truly looks like she has no clue what’s going on, and suddenly I don’t feel so stupid for having fallen for her schemes in the past.
“I’m sorry about that. It’s been a busy night,” Jameson tells her, moving his chair to the edge of the table then sitting with his elbows on his knees, bringing his body closer to her, making the situation seem more intimate. “This kind of thing is never easy.”
“What happened?” she whispers, looking between both men.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that your husband was shot at his home a few hours ago.”
“What?” She sucks in a breath, her body slumping as her eyes start to water. “Is he okay?”
It’s nauseating how good of an actress she is. If these men didn’t have all the evidence they needed, I might have worried she’d be able to convince them she couldn’t have done what she did.
“He’s dead,” Jameson adds, and she covers her face with her hands and starts to sob.
“No, no, no!” She slips off her chair and falls to her knees, resting her forehead on the floor while she screams, and Clarkston looks at the mirror, rolling his eyes. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes, the tension I’ve felt since I walked in here dissipating just a little.
“Ma’am.” Jameson touches her shoulder. “I know this isn’t easy, but I have some questions for you.”
“I don’t know anything.” She shakes her head vigorously as he helps her back into her seat, hands her a box of tissues, and waits for her to stop crying.
“Do you know a Cece Willimson?” he asks, and I narrow my eyes on her, watching her expression carefully.
“Yes, she worked with Winston. Why?” she prompts, and it makes me wonder when she even learned of her existence. She was never introduced. She only ever spoke to and threw her fits at me. How the hell did she even know of our relationship?
“We’re trying to figure out the connection to your husband’s murder and hers,” he says, then continues. “From what we were able to gather, your husband and you are no longer together. Can I ask what led to your separation?”
“Winston cheated.” She sniffles. “We were trying to work things out, but it’s not always easy to get over an affair.” My hackles rise at the lie. No way in fuck would I ever have tried to work things out with that woman.
“Is his affair what led to your relationship with Harry Charmers?” Clarkston asks, and her face goes pale as she registers what the officer said. “You two have been together for a few years now, right?”
“I…. We….” She shifts her attention back and forth between both men. “Harry and I are just friends.”
“That’s strange, because Harry is in the room across the hall, and he’s admitted your affair to us,” Clarkston states, taking on the role of bad cop as he looks down his nose at her.
The tears in her eyes seem to instantly dry up like they always did when we were together, and her lips press into a tight line before she yells, “He’s lying!”
“Was he also lying when he said it was your idea to find a hitman to murder your husband, the woman he’s been seeing, and her entire family?”
“That never happened,” she spits as the door opens again, and Ace, the undercover officer she thought was her hitman, is escorted into the room in cuffs with his head down. I met him before I came in here, thankful I was able to tell him how grateful I was for his work.
“Do you know this man?” Clarkston asks her, and I watch as panic fills her eyes.
“It wasn’t my idea!” she blurts, looking around like she’s searching for a way to escape. “Harry wanted to marry me. Winston wouldn’t divorce me no matter how much I begged him to.” The lie comes off as ridiculous as it actually is.
“I can’t believe this bitch,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. I look at Cobi, admitting the thing that’s bothering me most about this whole situation in the interrogation room. “Not fucking once has she even asked where our son is, when he was with me last night.”
“You wanna go confront her?” the captain asks from my other side, and I lift my chin in his direction. He nods and leads me out of the room.
Before the door closes, I hear Clarkson ask Corina, “And you were okay with nine people dying so you could get married?” But I don’t hear her answer as it clicks shut behind me.