Proof of Intent Read Free Page B

noise?”
    â€œWhat did I just tell you?” The room was silent for a long time. “A sharp noise, maybe? Somewhere between a crack and a bang? I don’t know! But it was inside the house. That’s about all I can say for certain. So I got up to see what the noise was. My wife is usually asleep this time of night, so I wanted to make sure she was okay.”
    â€œAny reason to think, based on this noise, that she
wouldn’t
be okay?” Denkerberg said.
    Miles glared at her. “Are you questioning my story?”
    â€œI’m just trying to establish the whys and wherefores, Mr. Dane.”
    Miles looked at me, raised his eyebrows sarcastically. “Ah! The whys and
wherefores
! Now I understand.”
    â€œMiles,” I said softly, “let’s not get off track. I know you’ve received a terrible shock here, that you’re angry and distraught. But let’s just focus on helping Detective Denkerberg do her job.”
    Miles shrugged. “Yeah, well, what it was, the noise made me nervous. I don’t know. Like something wasn’t right. Hell, it could have been a million things. I just wanted to make sure she was safe.”
    â€œWere you concerned it might have been an intruder?”
    â€œWell, yeah, I mean, it crossed my mind. You hear a funny noise in the middle of the night, it could be a lot of things.”
    â€œSo what happened next?”
    â€œI went down the hall toward the living room. Then I heard it again.”
    â€œThe noise.”
    â€œYeah. Like a crack. Or a bump. Only this time it sounded more, I don’t know, like splintering wood or something.”
    I felt a tingle running under my skin. I didn’t like this at all, didn’t like the way this was going, not one bit.
    â€œWhere was it coming from?” Denkerberg said. “This noise.”
    â€œUpstairs.” He stopped, and his face went blank.
    The room was silent again. I didn’t watch my client’s face. Instead I watched Denkerberg. I noticed her gaze had drifted up to the empty weapon rack again.
    Miles continued. “That’s when I saw him.”
    I nodded slightly, as though I’d heard this all before. I hoped Denkerberg didn’t pick up on my consternation. Or my sudden urge to strangle my client. I was about three seconds away from terminating the interview. Which one was the lie—the story he’d told me earlier or the one he was telling now? I could feel a cool sweat sprouting on my forehead.
    â€œSaw who?” the detective said.
    â€œThe man in the hallway.”
    In the movies lawyers are always storming into rooms and demanding that detectives terminate interviews. Sometimes that has to be done, of course; but in real life getting pushy with detectives is pretty much an invitation to get your client charged with something.
    I began coughing. Miles and Denkerberg looked at me, both seemingly annoyed at the interruption. My coughing segued into a sort of choking, hacking croak.
    â€œWater,” I gasped.
    Denkerberg looked understandably skeptical.
    I kept hacking away, putting my hands over my throat.
    â€œHere.” Miles stood. “I’ll get you some water.”
    I shook my head sharply, pointed at Denkerberg. “Her. Don’t want . . . you disturbing . . . the scene . . .” I gasped and spluttered some more.
    Denkerberg didn’t move.
    â€œPlease.” I pointed at her. “Get . . .”
    She scowled. “Glasses in the kitchen, Mr. Dane?”
    He nodded.
    As soon as she was out of the room, I hopped up, closed the door, and cranked the massive bolt, locking the door.
    â€œWhat in the world do you think you’re doing, Miles?” I said.
    He looked at me blankly, all innocence.
    â€œLet’s put aside the fact that you’ve been needlessly and childishly antagonizing that woman from the word go,” I said. “More importantly, Miles, I asked you very specifically if