“On the counter.”

The tech nods then disappears through the French doors. When he comes back he’s carrying the jar in a large plastic evidence bag.

He asks if anyone touched the item.

“Mr. Reese here is the only one.” Nolan watches me over his wire-framed glasses. “Is that correct?”

“That’s right.”

He looks at Diane, then turns back to the tech and says, “Better get them both, just to be safe.”

The tech opens his case and takes out a smaller, dark blue container and a pair of plastic gloves. He unsnaps the smaller container. Inside is an ink tray, a roller, and several fingerprint sheets. He lays them out on the dining room table and slips on the gloves.

Diane stares at him, then looks away.

Detective Nolan flips through the pages in his notebook. “So this name, Thomas Wentworth.” He taps the paper with his pen. “It doesn’t mean anything to you?”

It’s the third time he’s asked the question, and I tell him my answer hasn’t changed.

“No need to get defensive,” he says. “I’m here to help.”

“How exactly?” Diane says. “All you’ve done is ask the same question again and again.”

“Mrs. Reese, I know these questions seem redundant, but look at it from our point of view. If you knew how many people we talk to-”

I see the field tech wave me over. I get up, leaving Diane alone on the couch with Detective Nolan.

“I thought you could go first,” the tech says. “It’ll just take a minute.”

“What’s this for?”

“We need to distinguish your prints from anyone else’s they might find on the jar. It’s standard.”

“Sounds reasonable.” I hold out my bandaged hand. “I’ll be the easy one. Only half the work.”

The field tech smiles, but I can tell he doesn’t know what to say. He runs through the fingers on my right hand, rolling them along the inkpad then across the paper. When he finishes, he hands me several Kleenex and thanks me.