Someone Else's Husband(76)

“But it wasn’t Mom or Becks bleeding all over Dad’s pants,” Elizabeth pressed. “We know that.”

“At trial, the standard is beyond a reasonable doubt,” Scotty said. “It doesn’t matter what happened. Only what could have.”

“Exactly,” Mikey added. “What we do know for sure is that Richard was home by two fifty-three a.m. We’ve got the time stamp from a video in the lobby. And this witness supposedly saw him at nearly two-thirty a.m. near Frankie’s apartment—he couldn’t have left there, disposed of her body over in Battery Park, and still made it home to the Upper East Side all within twenty or even thirty minutes. And in what vehicle? That will add strongly to reasonable doubt.” Mikey paused. “Also, Richard shared one potentially useful lead.”

“Which is?” Gretchen was desperate for some good news.

“It seems Frankie Callahan was being harassed by her ex,” Mikey said.

“How did he know that?” Elizbeth asked. “Sounds pretty personal.”

“Frankie and your dad had been in touch regularly after the trip,” Scotty said. As if they all already knew this and it was no big thing. “They’d stayed close.”

Close. Hearing it out loud, in front of the children, was like a shotgun blast to the chest. Gretchen pressed her hands to her breastbone, half expecting to find a giant hole.

“Whoever was harassing Frankie is obviously also a potential suspect,” Mikey added.

“Well, who was it?” Cassandra asked, seeming unfazed by the revelation of this “closeness.” None of the children seemed the least bit shaken. Of course they weren’t. They trusted Richard. The way Gretchen always had, up until now.

“We don’t know yet,” Mikey said. “The police claim to be looking into it, trying to get access to her texts and all that. But obviously they aren’t motivated in the same way we are. My investigators are on it, too, but without the subpoena power of the police, it will be slow going. As we said before, Frankie’s only family is her mom, who’s in assisted living in Leadville, Colorado, and not mentally cogent. We’ll need to be careful approaching her friends, who aren’t going to be eager to help the man accused of killing her. It will be hard for the police to justify their lack of follow-up at trial, as it’s potentially exculpatory, but it’s been known to happen. We’ll stay on top of them.”

“Oh, and the financial subpoena came,” Scotty added. “So just a reminder that now isn’t the time to move a bunch of money to an off-shore account.” He laughed in a loud, awkward burst that was met by dead silence. “My point is don’t do anything with money that you wouldn’t be willing to explain to prosecutors.”

“But we’re allowed to use our money and credit cards and all of that, right?” Gretchen asked. “Nothing has been frozen?”

“No, not frozen,” Mikey said. “Just keep it to necessities. You’d be shocked what the D.A.s can try to make a story out of.”

Then it would have to be more jewelry, if it came to that.

“Can we visit him?” Becks asked.

Visit him. The thought hadn’t even occurred to Gretchen since this business with the watch. How was she ever going to be in the same room with Richard again? She was just so…heartbroken. God, how she longed for rage. It was a far sturdier shield.

“Yes, you can visit him,” Scotty said to Becks. “I think that’s a great idea. Maybe your mom should go first, though?” He glanced over at Gretchen. “Rikers can be pretty tough. You might want to vet it, Gretchen.”

“Yes, of course,” she said robotically.

“One note of caution: When you’re there, do not talk about anything significant,” Mikey said. “Nothing at all related to the case. And try to arrange a contact visit because then at least you won’t be on the phone. But even during a contact visit, you never know what people can overhear—and there’s no such thing as spousal privilege during jailhouse conversations. Even if they can’t get your conversations admitted at trial, they can always make use of what you say in their investigation.”

“I understand.” But Gretchen wasn’t making any promises. If she saw Richard, she had no idea what might fly out of her mouth. And maybe her husband would just have to live with the consequences.



* * *



—

She needed to lie down. That was all Gretchen could think once Scotty and Mikey Pearce were finally gone. Collect her thoughts. Confirm those men hadn’t texted again. Throw her phone out a window, so she’d never have to know if they had. Find an escape tunnel leading to a world where none of this had happened. Where Richard had made different choices. Where she had, too.

“I have something to tell you, Mom,” Becks called after her as she started up the steps.

“Okay,” she said, wishing she’d moved faster. She wanted to tell Becks to keep whatever it was to himself, but instead she came back downstairs and stood in front of her son. So tall now, a grown man. And yet all she could see was the child in his eyes.

He shifted his gaze to the ground. “I’m worried about hurting your feelings.”

“Oh, Becks, sweetheart.” She wrapped a hand around his muscular forearm. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine, whatever it is. We need to be honest with each other.” Could hypocrisy make you feel lightheaded? “It’s the only way forward now.”