“I’m looking for your wife, Emily,” Thorne said, watching Mark closely.
“Emily?” Mark’s expression flickered with a hint of confusion, but it passed quickly. “She’s been resting. She’s been a little… under the weather.”
“Under the weather?” Thorne raised an eyebrow. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
Mark’s gaze hardened just a fraction before he nodded. “Yes, she’s expecting. But she’s fine. She just needs rest, Detective.”
Thorne didn’t buy it. There was something off about the way Mark was speaking, like a man who’d rehearsed his lines a thousand times and was waiting for someone to call his bluff.
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