the last glove (3)

“Her assistant, Samantha. She’s in the kitchen talking to one of the detectives.” “Let’s talk to her.” Ava led the way, her instincts flaring. The atmosphere in the kitchen was thick with confusion and grief, the smell of coffee mingling with the scent of something burnt.

Samantha was sitting at the table, her face pale and eyes swollen from crying. “Ava Sinclair,” she introduced herself, pulling out a chair. “I need to ask you a few questions about Ella.”

Samantha wiped her eyes, her hands trembling. “I can’t believe she’s gone. She was… she was everything.” Ava softened her tone.