Prologue
Transcript of police interview with Erika Cass
“Can you please tell us what happened, Mrs. Cass?”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“I know what you found. I know what you must be thinking.”
“What do you think we found, Mrs. Cass?”
“A… a dead body.”
“And can you explain how this happened?”
“I…”
“Mrs. Cass?”
“Am I under arrest? Please just tell me.”
“At this time, no, you are not under arrest. But obviously, we need to know what happened.”
“He was… stabbed to death.”
“And who did it?”
“…”
“Mrs. Cass?”
“Idid it. I killed him, Detective. And I would do it again.”
Chapter One
ERIKA
About one week earlier
You’re not supposed to have a favorite child.
If you ask most mothers, they’ll say something along the lines of “Sammy is really smart, but Nicole has a great heart.” They refuse to choose. And some of them are sincere. Some mothers genuinely love both their children equally.
Others, like me, are lying through their teeth.
“Good morning!” I say as my fourteen-year-old daughter Hannah pads into the kitchen. She’s in her bare feet and an old pair of gym shorts, and her reddish-brown hair is in disarray around her face. She’s supposed to be dressed and ready for school, but clearly she’s not. She always waits until the last possible second to get ready. She likes to keep me in suspense over whether or not she’sgoing to make the school bus. But I’ve learned from experience that nagging her doesn’t help at all—in fact, it only seems to slow her down—so I turn back to the eggs I’m scrambling in a frying pan.
“Mom!” Hannah can’t seem to say that word anymore without the whiny edge to her voice that draws the word out for at least two syllables. Mo-om. I remember how happy I was the first time she said “mama.” I shake my head at my old naïve self. “Why do you have to say it like that?”
“Say it like what? I just said ‘Good morning.’”
“Right.” Hannah groans. “Like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like… oh my God, you know what I mean.”
