Peters pretty much told me that same version. Except she claimed that you knew Mrs. Larson would call her and ask her to perform the task since her husband was out of state fishing. She claims that you set her up," finished the detective."Set her up for what?" I demanded. "I called my boss to ask him to do a personal favor for me. I had no idea Roberta would wind up involved. I still have no idea what the hell happened! Why are you asking me questions? Why is she under arrest? What the hell did happen at my house last night?" Did you ask Jeff Rogers to go to your home to let Ms. Peters in?" continued the flatfoot, proving he had the temperament, and brains, of a bulldog."Where the hell are you getting this shit?" I asked in disbelief. "I had called my wife's sister, June, and told her that she might be getting a call from my boss. That was before I spoke to his wife and found out that he was out of town. I asked her if she would go over to our place with the spare key to our house. Shortly after you tore her heart in two and stomped on it without regard to what would happen to her. You wanted to be free and you got what you wanted, because she was just strong enough to let you go. But letting you go took the last shred of foundation she had. And then she was left with nothing at all. So at three in the morning, there I was. Do you want to know what I found? A woman, broken and terrified. A woman crying tears that would not stop. A woman shaking, trembling, quaking with the fear of her worst nightmare coming true. A woman who clutched your picture like it was a lifejacket in a hurricane. A woman who looked at me with uncomprehending eyes and asked me why you had left her. A woman who would never understand. She cried until she made herself sick and then she cried some more. Her legs wouldn’t hold her. Her body rebelled against everything sane. She could not form coherent sentences. She could not think. Her skin was cold and clammy. Her lips were tinged with.
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