Game of Smoke and Mirrors

Jia Tisdale Mason narrowed her gaze at the sight of blue strobe lights ahead. Awfully close to their vacation cabin. Curiosity morphed into panic when she realized all those emergency vehicles were parked around her house.
Two Marion County, Florida Sheriff’s Office cars, one fire rescue truck and two other unmarked cars. And a van marked, ‘Forensics Unit.’
Forensics?
Her hands trembled on the steering wheel of her rental car. Where was Everett?
Two men and a woman, all in dark green uniforms stood on the porch. A stocky man in black pants and a polo shirt emerged from the house and said something to the others. Why were they all at her place?
She parked under a tall pine and hurried out of the car. Her shoes crunched on the dry pine needles on the ground. The group on the porch stopped speaking and one of the men headed toward her, the one who wasn’t wearing a uniform.
Her mouth suddenly felt stuffed with cotton.
Where is Everett?
“Can I help you, ma’am?” The man closed the distance between them, blocking her path. A silver badge was clipped to his shirt pocket but she didn’t see any evidence of a weapon on him. His brown hair was sparse and a little too long for a cop.
“What’s going on? This is my cabin. Mine and my husband’s.”
“I’m Detective Potter, Marion County Sheriff’s Office. And you are?”
She forced herself to suck in a breath. “Jia Mason. Where’s my husband?”
His lips flattened into a thin line. “That’s what we’d like to know, Mrs. Mason. A neighbor found your rowboat near the middle of the lake but Mr. Mason wasn’t in it. Nor is he here at the house.”
There had to be more to this. The boat could have been left untied. “I don’t understand all this.” She swept her hand toward the array of emergency vehicles. “Maybe Everett went…I don’t know, shopping or something. Maybe he’s meeting with our real estate agent, Alexa Knox. Have you checked with her?” She didn’t dare say that perhaps he was with another woman.
“Not yet, but we will.” He set his hands on his thick waist. “We found blood in the boat. And in the boathouse.”
All the air sucked out of her lungs. “My husband’s?”
He shrugged. “You tell me.”
Her jaw went slack and felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of her stomach. Could Everett be dead? Who would do such a thing? Why would the detective think she had something to do with it? “There must be another explanation.”
“When was the last time you spoke to your husband?”
She recognized that look in his eyes. He already had her tried and convicted.
I hate cops. They’re all the same.
Memories of her time at the Hillsborough County, New Hampshire Jail barged into her mind. She’d never survive another nightmarish experience like that again. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body to quell the chill.
“Mrs. Mason?” He took a step closer and touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
She shrugged him off and glanced at the ring on his left hand. “Would you be all right if someone just told you your wife might be dead, Detective?”
His granite eyes darkened. “I’m not about to divorce my wife.”
Her pulse quickened. How the hell did he know she and Everett planned to split up? Nausea swirled in her gut. The creak of the cabin’s front door drew her attention to it. Detective Potter spun around.
A skinny woman with red hair emerged from the house followed by a middle-aged woman. A very butch woman.
The redhead pointed at Jia. “Is that her?” The woman shot daggers at her.
“Who is she?” Jia asked the detective.
Potter faced her. “A new friend of your husband’s.”
A new friend?
Another woman he was sleeping with, no doubt. Heat climbed up her neck and face. Why did she care what these people thought?
“Suzie Carmichael’s her name. Apparently they met at The Rusty Nail two nights ago.”
How many could there be? She suspected he’d bedded the real estate agent here and he’d admitted to carrying on with their cleaning woman in New Hampshire. Had he been cheating their entire marriage or was it only a recent development? Humiliation coursed through her like acid.
“Everett was scared of her. He told me so,” the redhead shouted.
Jia’s jaw dropped and her blood ran cold. What the hell was the woman talking about?
Why would Everett be afraid of me?
Detective Potter lifted an eyebrow. “We already have your statement, Miss Carmichael,” he called over his shoulder. “Please don’t say any more now. You want to take her home, Viv?”
The masculine looking woman nodded then said something to the scrawny redhead, too quiet for Jia to hear. Taking the woman’s arm, the policewoman descended the porch steps. The redhead shook her off but followed her to one of the unmarked cars. Opening the passenger door for her, the officer waited.
The redhead turned and eyed Jia, her lips curling into a snarl. “I know you killed him.” Then she slid into the car.
Hot-cold shivers raced up Jia’s spine. Tears threatened, but she forced them back.
Do not cry in front of these people.
She watched the car back up then drive past them toward the road.
“Mind telling me where you’ve been for the last two days, Mrs. Mason?”
Swallowing against the bile burning the back of her throat, she faced him. “I just arrived at Orlando International. My flight landed around one-twenty. I was home in New Hampshire until I left for the airport this morning.”
He reached into his back pocket and took out a small tablet then slid a pen out from the spiraled binding. “Who can verify that?”
“I have the receipt for my plane ticket in the car.” She gestured behind her. “Do you want me to get it?”
“I’ll need to see it, but not yet. I want to know who saw you before your flight. Who were you with over the weekend?”
She thought about her days in bed in front of the TV. Heart hammering, she met his cool stare. “I was sick in bed, Detective. The only one with me was my cat. Do you really think I somehow managed to come down here and overpower a man who outweighs me by fifty pounds?”
I will not be railroaded ever again.
He wrote something on his tablet. “So there’s no one who can corroborate your story?”
She gritted her teeth a moment, but forced herself to remain calm. “I was fifteen hundred miles north of here, Detective. You think I teleported myself here to kill my husband? Who may or may not even be dead. He could very well be shacking up with another fine citizen of Lake Vale.”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “Would you prefer we did this at the Sheriff’s Office headquarters?”
This had to be a nightmare.