Someone Else's Husband(77)

Becks shook his head—once, twice.

“I saw them together,” he said finally.

“Saw who together?”

“Frankie and Dad.”

Gretchen reached for the banister to support herself. “What do you mean, Becks?”

“The day before I left for school. On the Lower East Side,” he said. “Ludlow Coffee Supply.”

None of this made any sense. “You just happened to see them?”

“No, I, um— Dad was texting with someone and then he went to leave and he was acting…weird. And so, I guess, I followed him.”

“What do you mean, weird?” she asked.

Maybe Frankie Callahan had forced Richard to see her? This possibility hadn’t even occurred to Gretchen. A bright gap in the dark storm clouds.

“Excited or something,” Becks said. “I don’t know, it— He didn’t seem like himself.”

“Wait, when was this?”

“The day before I left for preseason,” he said. “The weekend after you got back from Atlanta.”

And just like that, the darkness folded in around her once more.

“Just coffee?” Her words felt thick, sticky. “That was all?”

“Just coffee,” Becks said. “They seemed to get into a fight or something at the end. She kind of stormed off.” His voice cracked.

“Shhh. Shhh,” Gretchen soothed. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around her son. “It’s okay,” she said. “Everything is okay.”

Okay. Gretchen was an addict frantic for a fix. Except the high she was chasing was hope.





Grand Jury Transcript


Testimony of Investigating Detective Raul Reyes


Conducted by Abigail Hoffman, Assistant District Attorney



November 27


Q. You were a senior investigating detective in the murder of Frankie Callahan?

A. Yes. I was assigned to that case at the beginning, eleven weeks ago.

Q. Were you on the scene in Ms. Callahan’s apartment in the early-morning hours of September 11th?

A. I was.

Q. How did you come to be there?

A. An individual in an adjacent apartment overheard an argument at the premises at approximately 11:00 p.m. on September 10th. The neighbor heard what she thought might have been a scream and then sounds of a physical altercation. She wasn’t sure. When she didn’t hear anything else, she went back to bed.

Q. And then what happened?

A. The neighbor woke up again around 3:30 a.m., feeling concerned still. She went out into the hallway and saw that Ms. Callahan’s door was ajar. She looked inside and saw obvious signs of a struggle and a significant quantity of blood. She called the police.

Q. What did you find when you arrived at the scene?

A. When I arrived at the premises at approximately 4:00 a.m. on September 11th, uniformed officers were on the scene. There was broken glass, overturned furniture. Books knocked off a shelf. And, as I said, a substantial amount of blood. There was also some evidence of an attempted cleanup.

Q. Was Ms. Callahan present?

A. She was not.

Q. What initial conclusion did you arrive at regarding what had taken place at that time?

A. That there had been some kind of altercation in the apartment that had caused at least severe bodily injury to Ms. Callahan, given the amount of blood at the scene.

Q. Did there come a time when you became convinced that a murder had taken place?

A. When we discovered the full extent of the blood.

Q. Where did you find that?

A. The living room. Luminol revealed evidence of a much larger amount that had been cleaned up.

Q. What did this lead you to conclude at that time?

A. That Frankie Callahan had been murdered.





Before


Frankie

September 9

I’m sound asleep when the ringing wakes me. I see that I’ve missed five calls before this one, all from the same 508 number. The Senator. But not a single voicemail.

“Hello?” My voice is hoarse. “Please stop calling me. I’m not going to tell anyone about us. Just please stop.”

Silence. Followed by some breathing. A moment later, he hangs up. And then a text.

You know you can’t ignore me, right? I know where you live. I’d find someplace better to hide.

My hand holding the phone is shaking as I stare down at it. And then another message. This one with a new photo taken only hours earlier—of Richard and me outside the subway steps.



* * *



*

I dressed quickly in the pitch dark, tugging on two layers of long underwear under my hard-shell pants and fleece, then my down jacket and Gore-Tex shell, wool beanie, gloves, balaclava, glacier goggles. And on top of it all, my warmest parka. It was impossible to breathe. Sweat was already trickling down my spine.

But as soon as I emerged from the tent, I was glad for the layers. It was brutally cold, the wind howling and burning my small patches of exposed skin. No stars overhead now. No sign of the moon. Full dark. Barely 4:00 a.m.

It was a relief to make my way into the dining tent. Bakari, at least, was bright-eyed and excited. Van, Richard, Scotty, and Brooks, stone-faced as they ate breakfast, less so. Everyone was wearing hard hats. Before I could even inquire, Bakari handed one to me.