Free Let Darkness Come by Angela Hunt

state has filed charges against Erin Tomassi, the banks have undoubtedly frozen Jeffrey Tomassi’s estate, including any accounts jointly owned with his wife. The estate will not go through probate until after the murder trial, so for the moment, Erin is essentially penniless. If she’s convicted, she’ll remain destitute.
    Either way, she qualifies for financial help from the state of Illinois. Joseph Franklin may not be wild about the idea of Briley’s petitioning the state for a handout, but if he won’t provide the funds she needs to investigate this case, he’s leaving her with no other choice.
    Once again, Briley picks up the phone.
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    The next morning, Briley pads down the stairs in sock-clad feet and peeks through a decorative windowpane in the front door. Her newspaper sits on the frost-covered lawn, barely twenty feet away.
    Does she dare run out in her robe and socks, or should she wait until she’s dressed?
    She peers through the glass again, and tries to judge the traffic. She hears no sounds of approaching cars, and nine o’clock is still early, especially for a Saturday.
    She flips the dead bolt on the door and pulls on the handle, allowing a stream of frigid air into the foyer. Like a swimmer about to plunge into icy water, she tucks her chin, grips the edges of her robe, and runs across the porch. She scoops up the paper and pivots on the ball of her foot, ready to sprint back inside.
    â€œHello!” Mrs. Ivins, the older woman who lives next door, lifts her head above the jagged edge of the picket fence and calls out a cheery greeting. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”
    Briley glances up at the sky. “Yes,” she calls, walking back to the porch as quickly as she can without appearing rude. “Beautiful morning. Going to be a pretty day.”
    â€œIt’s supposed to snow on Sunday.” Mrs. Ivins gazes at the winter-dead canes of her rosebushes. “I don’t care for the snow, but your father loved it. I’ve always thought winter was cruel, but your dad used to say it was a promise of better things to come.” She blinks and shifts her gaze to Briley. “That reminds me—Are you doing anything special for Christmas? I’m having my open house on Christmas Eve.”
    Briley shivers and hesitates on the sidewalk. “Um…I haven’t decided about Christmas Eve yet. But if I’m here, I’ll be sure to stop over.”
    â€œBy the way,” Mrs. Ivins says, “nice picture of you in the paper.”
    Frowning, Briley twiddles her fingers in a quick wave, then crosses the porch and closes the front door. Mrs. Ivins has to be mistaken about seeing her picture. The woman is eighty if she’s a day, and sometimes she talks about Briley’s dad as if he were still living in the house….
    On her way to the coffeepot, she unwraps the paper. A bold headline dispels every hope of a leisurely morning: Senator’s Wife Arrested for Murder.
    Forgetting her coffee, Briley slips into a chair at the table and skims the article. The front-page piece centers on the facts of the case, providing details of Jeffrey Tomassi’s death and Erin’s arrest. But the reporters have been busy. Inside the paper, on pages six and seven, are several affiliated articles. One features the Tomassi family and details the close relationship between the six siblings and their devoted father. Another article records Jeffrey Tomassi’s rise to prominence and includes several quotes from political experts who are convinced he was destined for national office, probably “as high as he wanted to go.” A shorter article tells the story of Erin Tomassi, a Chicago girl who met Jeffrey at a party and married him not long after. Thewriter does a good job of implying that Erin married Jeffrey for money, power, or both.
    Briley studies a photo of the couple and recognizes the dress Erin wore to the banquet the night