the last glove (7)

“But I didn’t kill her.”

“Where were you last night?” Ava pressed, studying his expression for signs of deceit.“I was at a bar, drowning my sorrows,” he muttered. “I didn’t get home until after midnight.”

“Anyone can verify that?” she asked. He looked away. “No. I was alone.”Ava leaned in closer. “What about that glove? Did she have a habit of losing her things?” Eric’s eyes flared with anger. “She loved those gloves. They were custom-made.

Only wore them for special occasions. I don’t know why there was only one there.”Ava could sense his frustration, but something about his demeanor felt off.