"Where were you when the car went over the cliff?" Kaelyn asked, voice low. "I was at home. I—" Flynn's reply came out raw. He rubbed his jaw and the motion made his fingers hurt. "At home at midnight?" Sergeant Moreau cut in. "Traffic cameras put you on Riverside Drive fifteen minutes before the crash." "I left early," Flynn said. "I had work. I went to check a file at the bureau. I drove past— I don't know why the cameras picked me up." "Why didn't you stop?" Moreau pressed. "Why didn't you call 911?" "I couldn't—" Flynn looked at his own hands. They trembled when he moved them. "I couldn't breathe. I drove until I lost it. I went to the parking garage and sat. I—" "Sat where?" Kaelyn asked. She was quiet, but she kept looking at his hands. "In the car. I didn't know what else to do." Flynn's voice was thin. "I went back to the apartment later. I found Jovie—" "Stop." Moreau's palm slammed the table. "Save that for the coroner. Right now we need clear answers. Did you have any argument with your wife that evening?" "No." Flynn's mouth went dry. "We argued sometimes. Not that night." "Who else knew she was going to meet Galileo Chen?" Moreau's tone sharpened. "You're connected to him through—" He glanced at the file on the table like it was a weapon. Flynn flinched. "She worked under