Finding Harmony (Katie & Annalise Book 3) by Pamela Fagan Hutchins Page A

had never had to ask such painful questions as an employment attorney. Embarrassing, à la “did you grab the plaintiff’s ass,” but not painful. At least I knew the answer to this question, as Ramirez had told us she’d requested the investigation precisely because she didn’t believe her husband had killed himself.
    Before, her answers had puzzled me. This time, her reply astonished me.
    “Yes, I think he did. I think he killed himself. He was very depressed.”
    Mr. Jiménez all but lunged forward at her. “But Mrs. Monroe, you told us you did not believe he killed himself. And how could he? You are so beautiful, and he was a newlywed. You are mistaken. All of his co-workers know how happy he was—with you, with his job, with everything. You are grieving and confused, and that is why you say this terrible thing, no?”
    Elena gave no explanation for changing her story. She didn’t cry. She simply sat with her hands gripped together and her knuckles white. Her mother appeared and sat beside her, stroking her anxious daughter’s hair and speaking to her in words I could not understand, not for lack of trying. I sat stock still, taking it all in, the two women, the large silver and bronze crucifixes hanging behind them, the heavy wooden furniture, the black leather upholstery. Jiménez shoved in next to them on the couch and the conversation grew animated.
    Nick whispered to me, “This is a clusterfuck, Katie. We’re not getting anywhere with Lurch standing behind her. We should get the hell out of here, and come back at her later with a different approach. I have some ideas.”
    “Yes,” I said, “Let’s get out of here.”
    I stood up. “Elena? We know this is a very upsetting time for you. Thank you for talking to us. If you have anything else you want to tell us, here’s Nick’s card.” He handed it to her. “But for now, we will leave you with your family and friends. So sorry to intrude.”
    Elena rose. She turned toward Nick and extended her delicate hand. He took it. She did not shake, simply stood with her hand in his, and looked up at him from below her lowered lashes. “Thank you, Nick.” Neeeeeeek. “On your card, it says you are a pilot?”
    Nothing about her demeanor said grief. Yet she was radiating an emotion so strongly that it permeated the air around her: fear.
    “Yes, I am also a pilot.”
    “Bueno. I have your card, so I may call you, no?”
    “That would be great,” he said, her hand still in his. “Oh, and could we trouble you to let us look at the files on your computers, to look for people who might have wished Mr. Monroe harm?”
    Mr. Jiménez stood up beside Nick and faced Elena. “Mrs. Monroe, you do not have to give him anything you do not want to,” he said.
    “Yes, sir,” she said to him. Then, “I am sorry, Nick, but there is nothing on our computer that will help bring Eddy back.”
    Nick and Mr. Jiménez locked eyes. Neither looked away, but Mr. Jiménez spoke.
    “So that’s it, then. Buenos días, Mr. and Mrs. Kovacs,” he said.
    His squinty-eyed expression of distrust was getting old.
    “Nice to see you again, sir. Good day to you,” I said, and I grabbed his hand and shook it harder than I should have. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.
    We bolted out the front door from the dark interior of the house, away from the dark meeting. The brilliant light burned my eyes. I’d turn into a vampire if I lived in there.
    I was rattled. Elena’s weird come-on to my husband, if that’s what it was, had knocked me back a step. I didn’t get it. And try as I might to sympathize with her, I didn’t like it.
    We walked briskly to the Montero without a word. Nick sucked his top lip into his bottom one. Then he ran his hand through his hair, a sure sign of consternation.
    I spoke first. “That was a freak show. I want to get as far away from this place as possible.”
    He said, “Let’s just head straight back up to Annalise then, and we can talk about this on