Nancy Bright sat in the interview suite, her hands shaking slightly as she cradled a cup of coffee. She made no move to drink it, simply staring into its depths. Pale, drawn and restless, she was still a woman in deep shock.
‘I know this is hard. There’s so much for you to take in,’ Gabrielle sympathized. ‘But I do need to ask you these questions.’
Nancy nodded, but said nothing. So far, her answers had been monosyllabic.
‘Had anyone threatened your fiancé recently?’
Nancy shook her head slowly, looking slightly mystified.
‘Someone to do with his work? Someone he’d crossed or helped incarcerate?’
‘Not that he mentioned to me.’
‘Anyone in his personal life, then?’ Detective Miller overlapped. ‘Family member? Friend? Ex?’
‘No, no …’ Nancy insisted. ‘He wasn’t that kind of guy. Everyone liked him. Hell, most of his ex-girlfriends are still in love with him.’
It was said with rueful humour, but prompted tears to fill her eyes.
‘Perhaps you noticed something out of the ordinary, then, in the last few weeks,’ Miller persisted gently. ‘Someone hanging around the house? Someone who didn’t seem to fit in the neighbourhood?’
Nancy turned her gaze to the ceiling, as if racking her brains. A single tear slid down her cheek, but she wiped it away.
‘I don’t think so. We’ve only just moved to West Town, but it’s always seemed very safe.’
‘And Jacob hadn’t shared any concerns with you? Any worries, however insignificant, might have a bearing on this case,’ Gabrielle suggested.
‘Just the usual work politics. He … we were in a good place. We’d just bought the house, we were planning our wedding …’
Once more emotion mastered her. Dropping her eyes to the floor, she dug her nails into her hand, fighting to contain her distress. Gabrielle gave her a moment, then nodded to Miller, who opened the file in front of her.
‘Nancy, I’d like to show you some photos. I won’t burden you with the details, I just need to know if you recognize any of these faces.’
Miller had collated the mugshots while Gabrielle was on her way back from the morgue. They were faces of violent criminals that Jacob had successfully prosecuted in the last year.
‘Do you recognize this man?’
A picture of a shaven-headed Colombian youth was offered to her. She studied it, then shook her head.
‘And this guy?’
A young African American with braided hair and plenty of attitude.
‘No, I’m sorry …’
‘And this one?’
On it went. A brief look, then a small shake of the head. Until finally there was only one photo remaining.
‘And what about this one?’
In spite of the studied neutrality of Miller’s tone, Nancy realized that there was something special about this last photo. She studied the image of Kassandra Wojcek carefully, as Gabrielle watched her closely for any sign of a reaction. But when Nancy looked up, seemingly as mystified as ever, it was only to say:
‘No. I’ve never seen that girl before in my life.’