IMOGEN'S POV
I stepped out of the police station into the gray Portland morning, my heels clicking against the wet concrete. The second arrest had gone smoothly. Some Lee Albon, big time crook and gangster, who helped Valentine Sutton kill Talia, was now sitting in a cell where he belonged. Two down, several more to go.
The rain had stopped but the air still smelled like storm clouds and wet asphalt. I pulled my coat tighter around me and started walking toward my car. The press conference about Elijah and Deborah's deaths had gone exactly as planned yesterday. The media bought every word of my carefully constructed story. Grieving widow survives husband's murderous rampage. It was perfect.
I was certain the Suttons would have found a way to fight back. But I had painted Deborah as a victim herself at the end and that seemed to do the trick.
"Ms. Stone?"
