Butterfly Kills by Brenda Chapman

Apparently, this hadn’t been her first extramarital fling, but it was the first time she’d left home. Odds in the office pool were weighted on the side of him taking her back by Christmas. Everyone agreed that he was better off without her. By what he’d seen in Fiona’s eyes, he wouldn’t bet against her if she decided to reel Gundersund back in.
    Della Munroe’s hands shook as she lifted the coffee cup to her lips. She was wrapped in a blue wool blanket, sitting forward, her eyes staring at nothing. Kala nodded at the officer sitting next to Della on the couch and they exchanged places. Gundersund hung back near the doorway as he and Kala had agreed he would before entering the room.
    Kala knew on paper that Della was young, but was surprised by just how young she appeared. Della’s long black hair hung loose around her face, her pale skin flawless and unlined. The blue eyes she raised to Kala were red from crying but still brilliant blue. Dressed in a white T-shirt, jeans, and sparkly pink flip flops, she looked closer to a teenager than a woman approaching thirty. Della would make for a sympathetic accused if the case came to trial. Kala had doubts that it would get that far given the circumstances.
    “How are you doing, Della?” Kala asked. “Is there something I can get you? Anything you need?”
    “No, thanks.”
    “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, but I need you to tell me exactly what you remember about tonight and what led up to your husband’s death.”
    “Am I under arrest?”
    “No, we’re just trying to find out what happened at this point. Can you take me through your evening? Take your time. I need you to know that we are recording what you say. Do you understand?”
    “Yes.” Della took a deep, shuddering breath and hunched deeper into the blanket. “I put Tommy to bed around seven and crawled in to read him a bedtime story. I must have fallen asleep because next thing I knew, it was ten o’clock. I got up and checked that the doors were locked and poured some milk for Mr. Paws.” She smiled. “Tommy named him when we picked up the cat from the humane society.” Her face crumpled and she picked up the coffee cup, letting her hair fall across her face. She raised the cup to her lips and sipped. A portion slopped onto the blanket as she lowered the cup to her lap.
    “You’re doing fine,” said Kala. “What happened next?”
    “I had something to eat, I think a muffin and milk. I’d hardly eaten since the night before when Brian … when Brian raped me. I lay down on the couch in the living room and dozed for a while. A noise woke me up. It was glass shattering in the kitchen. At first I thought I was dreaming.” She stopped talking, and tucked her chin onto her chest.
    “What did you do next?” Kala asked.
    “I lay there for a few moments getting oriented. It was dark — I hadn’t turned any lights on before I lay down — and then I saw him in the hallway.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “Brian.”
    “Did he see you?”
    “Not at first. He started for the stairs and my first thought was Tommy. I got up and asked him what he was doing. He turned around and said he’d come to take Tommy away from me and not to try to stop him. I ran toward him and grabbed his arm, pleading with him to talk to me. He hit me across the face.” Della raised her face and pushed back her hair. An ugly bruise had spread across her forehead.
    “Has that been tended to by anyone?”
    “It’s nothing.” Della let her hair swing back across her face. “I fell on my knees and landed on the floor next to the hammer. I’d been putting up a mirror at the bottom of the stairs and left the hammer beside the hall table. I don’t remember picking it up, but I must have. I called to Brian to stop. We needed to talk, but he told me to go to hell. He said that he was done talking and now he and Tommy were going to disappear. He’d kill Tommy before I would see him again. I … I