Someone Else's Husband(106)

Late last Wednesday. The time Frankie was killed.

“Mrs. Falk?”

“I haven’t heard from him, no. As I said, we’ve had our hands full. It’s possible I missed something, but I really don’t think so.”

The female officer frowned. “Relationship or no—seems like, from the journal, you’ve certainly been Brooks’s real focus while he was here.”

Gretchen pressed her fist to her stomach, trying to stem the rising tide of nausea. “What do you mean?”

The woman’s eyes were filled with concern. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but he’s been following you, recording your movements. Seems like he was…obsessed.”





I always did love Gretchen. From the very start, even when we were little kids. Who wouldn’t love her? And I did always believe we would eventually be together. Even after she and Richard got together. Once they were married…I did start to lose faith. But even then, I’ve got to be honest, I figured eventually we’d find our way back to each other.

And I knew—I just knew she felt the same way. She was always, always hinting at it. I mean, who stayed friends with a guy that way unless there were some kind of other feelings going on? And every time we talked about her marriage, I could tell she was fishing around to see if I’d leave Melinda…

She and I are simply meant to be. Especially now. Because, yeah, the rest of my life is kind of shit at the moment. Did I ever imagine getting pushed out of my own fucking company? For erratic behavior, no fucking less? And then there’s the money. Yeah, sure, the influx from Van’s restaurants is helpful. But it’s not enough.

But as far as I’m concerned, it’s all a sign that now is the time for Gretchen and me. That our life can finally start.

And Frankie and Richard can ride off into the sunset, too.

It’ll be a happily ever after for everyone.





Before


Frankie

September 10

“Don’t look so worried!” Brooks barks out a strange laugh that makes him seem completely fucking deranged. “We can help each other, Frankie. That’s why I’m here.”

“Brooks, you need to leave.” My voice is trembling. Sweat has gathered on my upper lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you need to get out of my apartment. Right now.” I motion toward the door.

Space between us. That’s what I need. But Brooks doesn’t budge. And he’s still blocking my path to the door. I think again of Van.

“You were here earlier?” I ask, trying to distract him as I take a step back. I adjust my fingers on the handle of the knife, try to imagine using it. But my palms are damp. My grip could easily slip. “In my apartment this morning?”

“I’m here now so that we can both get what we want. You with Richard. Me with Gretchen,” he says, ignoring my question. “The second I realized it was you on that mountain, I knew. And then Richard got so fixated on you—and the answer was clear. You were the answer. To all my problems.”

“Oh my God. You knew the Senator?”

“The Senator, yeah.” He smirks. “Adam used to drink a lot. Back when we worked together at Sinclair, Williams. And he talked way too much,” he says, his mouth twitching. “Ironic, given the NDA.”

“You’ve been the one texting me?” A 508 area code could have been anyone. Anyone who knew I had good reason to be afraid of someone from Massachusetts. And I fell for it. I fell for the whole thing. No wonder he didn’t want to talk on the phone. Think. “Leave right now or I’ll call the police.”

Brooks smirks as he pulls a phone from the back pocket of his filthy-looking khakis. My phone. I must have left it in the other room. “That will be difficult without this.” He tucks it back into his pocket. “I just need you to hear me out, Frankie. Then I’ll go.” But the look on his face—even he doesn’t believe that.

I feel the scraper in my hand again. Brooks isn’t a big guy, but he could still easily overpower me. What if I miss? All of this seems much simpler in the movies. So certain and swift.

Think. Think. Think. Talk your way out of this, Frankie. Pretend you’re listening. “Okay, Brooks. What is it?”

“Richard.”

“What about Richard?”

“I saw you leave Richard’s, Frankie. I know you and he—”

“Nothing. He and I, nothing,” I say. “I was locked out. That’s all. Richard and I are just friends.” My voice is trembling.

“Friends,” Brooks snorts. “I was there on the mountain, Frankie. I saw it. We all saw it. He was infatuated—and so were you.”

“Nothing happened then, either, Brooks.” Although that isn’t the complete truth, is it?

He starts to laugh—too hard and too loud. “I want Richard’s wife, and you want Richard. It’s an even trade. We help each other. Everyone ends up happy.”

Sore loser. That’s what the tension on the mountain was about. Brooks wanted Richard’s wife. He still wants her.

“I don’t want Richard.”

“Yes, you do,” Brooks says. He shrugs. “You know what? Okay, fine. Let’s pretend you don’t. We can still make some kind of arrangement. Gretchen is hanging by a thread. All she needs is to hear that you two have had an affair and she’s going to leave Richard. I know it. She just needs someone to say it—a woman, someone who’s not me. I’ve been trying to tell her for years. Do it and then you can run off with some other guy, for all I care.”