Trigger City by Sean Chercover

again without drinking any tea.
    She seemed more frightened than grief-stricken. Her delicate hands came up and thin fingers hooked her hair behind her ears. With her ears showing, she looked ten years younger. She pulled a Kleenex from her pocket, dabbed at her eyes, and smiled a shy apology.
    â€œYour English is perfect,” I said.
    â€œIt has to be. I work as a translator.”
    â€œAt the consulate?”
    â€œI would never work for them. I work at the university, helping Chinese students with their English. And at the UIC Medical Center, translating for Chinese patients.”
    â€œWas Steven’s English as good as yours?”
    â€œNo, he was—” She stopped herself, formulated a new answer. “His English was fine. His accent was more pronounced and his vocabulary limited, but he was fluent.”
    I said, “The police file indicates that Steven did not have a history of mental illness.”
    â€œThat’s correct. Nothing until about a month before…”
    â€œDo you have any idea what might have triggered it?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWas he on any medications? Prescription, over-the-counter, recreational?”
    â€œNone. Nothing.”
    â€œAny idea why he focused on Joan Richmond?”
    â€œNo, and I doubt that there was a reason. He was ill.”
    â€œDid you know Joan? Were you friends?”
    â€œWe never met.”
    â€œReason I ask, I was reading through her old e-mails, and she asked Steven to give you her best regards.”
    â€œWell, I, um…we spoke on the phone a few times, when she called for Steven.”
    â€œDid that happen often?”
    â€œJust a few times. Steven often brought his work home with him.”
    â€œYou mean his work at HM Nichols, or when they worked together at Hawk River?”
    Her eyes darted away. “I don’t know what you mean.” There was a tremor in her voice.
    â€œSteven worked on contract for Joan at a company called Hawk River, about a year ago. This doesn’t ring a bell?”
    She didn’t answer me, just stood up and disappeared into the kitchen again. She was gone for a few minutes and then returned with a small glass of what looked like sherry.
    â€œI understand this is a very bad time for you and your daughter—”
    â€œMy daughter cannot even step inside this house anymore. She barely eats, suffers nightmares…. Sometimes I don’t think she’ll ever smile again. So do not pretend to understand. You may be able to come in here and ask me questions I’ve already answered, but do not talk about my daughter.”
    Amy Zhang’s attitude had changed, but it had changed before I mentioned her daughter and my spidey senses were now tingling. Yes,she was frightened and maybe I was a scumbag for inserting myself into her life while her grief was so fresh. But there was something wrong about her. Something very wrong.
    â€œSo you never heard of Hawk River? That’s odd. Your husband worked there for seventeen weeks.”
    â€œI know very little about computers. Steven and I did not talk about his work. He was self-employed. I don’t know the names of the companies he worked for.”
    She was lying. And she was scared. I let the silence build. Her hands were clasped together in front of her chest and she squeezed them together so tight that I thought her fingers might snap like twigs.
    â€œPlease,” she said, “what do you want me to say? I said everything right.”
    Said everything right?
    â€œWhat the hell does that mean?”
    â€œIt…it’s nothing. It, I just…I said everything right. I told you, I told you everything I know.” Her hands unclasped, clasped again. She couldn’t look at me. Her performance was falling apart and she knew it. “I told you everything I know,” she repeated. “If it’s not good enough, I can’t help that.”
    â€œAre you in some kind of trouble,