Then he opened a drawer.
“We collected something when Mr. Hale came in.”
He placed a small evidence bag on the desk.
Inside was a crescent-shaped piece of glass.
I knew it instantly.
Along one edge was a thin gold rim.
My mother’s glasses were unusual because one lens had a tiny magnified reading segment shaped differently from standard bifocals.
This shard had it.
“Where did you find that?”
“Embedded in the sole of your husband’s boot.”
The room seemed to narrow.
If Ryan had been defending himself from across the room, why had he stepped directly on my mother’s broken glasses?
Dwyer leaned back.
“That was one reason we didn’t charge your mother tonight.”
“One reason?”
“Your husband had no defensive injuries consistent with a metal poker.”
He hesitated.
“He did have a scratch on his left hand.”
“My mother has arthritis. Half the time she can’t open a jar.”
