CHAPTER EIGHT
“Mr. Logan, can you tell me, did your wife—”
Stella stopped herself. This question was too abrupt, too personal. Rather, she should lead into it, but now she was out of time, because while Craig Logan had turned to stare at her, Roth’s wrathful glare was already incinerating her.
Well, inappropriate as it was, she’d just have to blurt it out.
“I was wondering if Amanda usually went to bed with clothes on. I guess what I’m asking is, did she sleep in a nightshirt? Pajamas? Or n***d?”
Now Roth’s glare had intensified and Maxwell was adding his incredulous frown to the barrage of gazes turned her way.
“What kind of question is that?” Maxwell asked, his voice accusing.
Avoiding his gaze, Stella kept her own focused on Craig.
“Please, Mr. Logan, if you could just answer it
