called me at the rally and told me to come home right away and then she hung up. I don’t know if that had anything to do with the call she made to the 911 operator—you know—whether it was before or after that.”
“Did you actually talk to her?”
“Uh, yes.”
“I mean, she didn’t leave a message or anything.”
“No,” he said, thinking. “As soon as I saw our home number, I answered immediately. It was about the time that Ginger Cooper was starting to interview Brewster. I was just standing there listening to them.”
“Try to remember exactly what she said.”
“I think she said, ‘Come home’ or maybe ‘Come home now’ or something like that. I didn’t save it. I just jumped in my car and took off.”
“Did you say anything to her?”
“I may have, but I think she hung up immediately—and that scared me. I mean, she didn’t even wait for me to respond. So I figured whatever she needed me for at home was serious . . .”
“Do you remember the time of Stacy’s call?”
“No, I’m sorry. Just that it was after my interview at the rally—during the Brewster interview.”
“You don’t by any chance know what question Brewster was answering when Stacy called?”
“You think that’s important?”
“I’m just trying to develop a time line. It may—or may not—be important.”
“I think he was just getting started. I don’t remember if she’d even asked him a question yet.” Grant scowled. Pamela perceived it a good sign that James was able to focus—if only for a moment—on his political opponent’s platform.
“Okay, anyway. You drove home as fast as you could. Now, tell me exactly what happened when you got there.”
“Dr. Barnes, I’ve gone over this part again and again for the police. I pulled up out front and I could see that the front door of our house was wide open. That scared me right away. I ran into the house calling for Stacy. She was lying on the floor of the kitchen. She was bleeding—from a huge gash in the back of her head. Oh, my God! If I’d just been there minutes before. It must have just happened. I bent down and tried to find a pulse. I couldn’t. I tried to give her mouth to mouth. I tried but nothing—nothing helped.” Repeating the story again had drained the young politician.
“Did you see or hear anyone else in your house?”
“No, but I wasn’t looking for anyone. I was only concerned with Stacy.”
“About how long after you discovered your wife on the floor was it before the police arrived?”
“Almost immediately. I had barely started to do the mouth-to-mouth and some uniformed guy grabbed me and handcuffed me. Another one read me my rights. At that point, I realized Stacy was gone—and nothing else really mattered.”
“What about the candlestick? That they say is the murder weapon?”
“I guess I remember seeing it lying on the floor next to Stacy. It was one of a set that we had on our fireplace mantel. Stacy’s parents gave those to us for our wedding. I may have moved it or picked it up at some point, but truly I don’t remember. All I remember is seeing Stacy and trying to help her.”
“James, can you think of anyone who might want your wife dead?”
“No, no one.”
“Your wife worked for the DA’s office. Has she prosecuted anyone who might have come back for revenge? That does happen, you know.”
“Yes, I suppose, but Stacy never mentioned anyone that she sent away that she ever thought would be some sort of risk to her. Of course, there might have been and she didn’t tell me—or she didn’t know herself.”
“What about you? Is there anyone who might want to hurt you by killing your wife?”
“I can’t imagine anyone.”
“Not even Hap Brewster?” she suggested, with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” he asked, apparently genuinely flabbergasted. “You don’t kill people who disagree with you over
“Did you actually talk to her?”
“Uh, yes.”
“I mean, she didn’t leave a message or anything.”
“No,” he said, thinking. “As soon as I saw our home number, I answered immediately. It was about the time that Ginger Cooper was starting to interview Brewster. I was just standing there listening to them.”
“Try to remember exactly what she said.”
“I think she said, ‘Come home’ or maybe ‘Come home now’ or something like that. I didn’t save it. I just jumped in my car and took off.”
“Did you say anything to her?”
“I may have, but I think she hung up immediately—and that scared me. I mean, she didn’t even wait for me to respond. So I figured whatever she needed me for at home was serious . . .”
“Do you remember the time of Stacy’s call?”
“No, I’m sorry. Just that it was after my interview at the rally—during the Brewster interview.”
“You don’t by any chance know what question Brewster was answering when Stacy called?”
“You think that’s important?”
“I’m just trying to develop a time line. It may—or may not—be important.”
“I think he was just getting started. I don’t remember if she’d even asked him a question yet.” Grant scowled. Pamela perceived it a good sign that James was able to focus—if only for a moment—on his political opponent’s platform.
“Okay, anyway. You drove home as fast as you could. Now, tell me exactly what happened when you got there.”
“Dr. Barnes, I’ve gone over this part again and again for the police. I pulled up out front and I could see that the front door of our house was wide open. That scared me right away. I ran into the house calling for Stacy. She was lying on the floor of the kitchen. She was bleeding—from a huge gash in the back of her head. Oh, my God! If I’d just been there minutes before. It must have just happened. I bent down and tried to find a pulse. I couldn’t. I tried to give her mouth to mouth. I tried but nothing—nothing helped.” Repeating the story again had drained the young politician.
“Did you see or hear anyone else in your house?”
“No, but I wasn’t looking for anyone. I was only concerned with Stacy.”
“About how long after you discovered your wife on the floor was it before the police arrived?”
“Almost immediately. I had barely started to do the mouth-to-mouth and some uniformed guy grabbed me and handcuffed me. Another one read me my rights. At that point, I realized Stacy was gone—and nothing else really mattered.”
“What about the candlestick? That they say is the murder weapon?”
“I guess I remember seeing it lying on the floor next to Stacy. It was one of a set that we had on our fireplace mantel. Stacy’s parents gave those to us for our wedding. I may have moved it or picked it up at some point, but truly I don’t remember. All I remember is seeing Stacy and trying to help her.”
“James, can you think of anyone who might want your wife dead?”
“No, no one.”
“Your wife worked for the DA’s office. Has she prosecuted anyone who might have come back for revenge? That does happen, you know.”
“Yes, I suppose, but Stacy never mentioned anyone that she sent away that she ever thought would be some sort of risk to her. Of course, there might have been and she didn’t tell me—or she didn’t know herself.”
“What about you? Is there anyone who might want to hurt you by killing your wife?”
“I can’t imagine anyone.”
“Not even Hap Brewster?” she suggested, with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” he asked, apparently genuinely flabbergasted. “You don’t kill people who disagree with you over
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