Sarah Armstrong - 01 - Singularity Read Online Free PDF Page A

with concern. I thought of my daughter, Maggie, and the night we learned that her father had died. Death was so unfair, especially for the children left behind.
    “I’ll tell you everything in a few minutes, dear,” Mrs. Lucas explained, her voice strained but calm. “Now please, let us finish our discussion.”
    “Is something wrong?” the boy asked, looking young and scared.
    “Travis, I need to have you rejoin your sisters,” she repeated. Then she nearly begged, “Please, listen to me and do as I ask. It’s important.”
    The boy sized up Nelson and me one more time. Then, reluctantly, he turned and walked away. Moments passed before any of us spoke. I was still lost in my own memories when Nelson asked Mrs. Lucas, “So, where were you this morning, about nine?”
    “You don’t think I could do such a monstrous thing?” she demanded, for the first time appearing worried. It must have suddenly dawned on her that we weren’t there offering our condolences. The woman looked appalled and at a loss for words, not a good turn of events. Unless Nelson backed off, I had no doubt that at any moment she’d regain her composure and refuse to talk to us without her lawyer. From that point on, we were at the mercy of some well paid suit whose primary agenda would be to keep us away from his wealthy client.
    Weary of Nelson’s theatrics, I attempted damage control. “Please understand, Mrs. Lucas, that it’s nothing personal. In the beginning, we ask everyone even remotely involved in a case that question. What we really need from you are a few facts, to draw a picture of the days leading up to the murders. Let’s start with where you were this morning.”
    “Well, I’m happy to help. Edward and I have three children, after all. I do want you to find his killer,” she said, regaining her former placid expression. “I was here, in my home. You can verify that with the maid, the cook, and about six friends. I hosted a meeting that lasted nearly all day. We were planning the fall ballet ball. It has a Venetian nights theme, rather difficult to pull off, I must admit, andEdward and I are…” She paused, hesitated, and then continued, “We
were
chairing. That’s why I called him this afternoon. I wanted to ask if that was a good idea, considering our marital situation.”
    “And you called the police …”
    “Because I couldn’t find my husband,” she said bluntly. “Edward is, was, always reachable. When he didn’t answer his cell phone and no one in the office could find him, I knew something was wrong. My husband may sneak away for a…shall we call it a recreational break? But he runs a substantial business. He does not just disappear for hours without leaving a number.”
    “Why did you suggest the police check the beach house?” I pushed.
    Priscilla Lucas sighed, creases tracing thin lines across her brow. “Edward is a creature of habit. His routines rarely vary. I know, I’ve always known that he takes them there, his women-of-the-moment,” she said, her voice smooth but unable to hide what must have been a long-lived anger.
    “Did your husband have any enemies?” I asked.
    “Nothing beyond the normal business rivalries.”
    “Was there any reason for you to fear he’d been injured?”
    “Just what I’ve told you, that I couldn’t find him,” she said, losing patience. “It may be difficult to believe, but in all the years we’ve been married, this is the first time I haven’t been able to locate Edward for any substantial period of time. That and I had a feeling, call it a premonition, that something was wrong.”
    “Mrs. Lucas, does your husband own a gun?” I asked, wondering if she would admit knowing about the handgun at the beach house or have reason to deny it.
    “Yes,” she said, without hesitation. “Edward owns more than one. We argued about them often. I’ve never liked guns. I’ve always been afraid the children might find them. But Edward has a locked cabinet in