As she pulled the refrigerator door open and peered inside, the interior light sliced a wedge out of the darkness. It was three o’clock in the morning. The police had allowed them to leave the office building at just before one a.m. She pulled out a carton of two-percent milk, grateful she’d been able to convince Laurent to stop buying whole milk. She poured a stream of Hershey’s chocolate syrup into a glass, added the milk, stirred vigorously, and took her drink into the living room. Punching the buttons on the television remote control, she ran through her viewing choices: a sixties movie about a bunch of hippies intent on overthrowing the United States government, a cooking show with the Galloping Gourmet, a Spanish vocabulary lesson presented by a woman with a very strong Southern accent, and an old Bonanza episode she’d seen at least half a dozen times. Muting the volume for Laurent’s sake, she settled on Bonanza and sank back into the couch with her chocolate milk. Gerry had come in to the office for questioning just before midnight.
