Osley nods. “I’m surprised Erica Pearl isn’t here, right now, banging on the door wanting to talk to you, Ms. Flynn. She must have something big.”
Darby grabs her iPad from the side table, unplugging it and whipping back the cover. “Then let’s see what she—what he—has to say.”
34
THE HUSBAND
Park has retrieved his laptop from his office and has the computer open, searching through the security feeds for any hint of their intruder.
He has a notebook next to him, where he logs every instance of the man coming into their house.
So far, he’s found at least seventeen intrusions over the past month. They almost always seem to coincide with Park and Olivia leaving, but damn if there aren’t at least three that happen when he thinks they were home.
Olivia refuses to go upstairs and lie down and is sitting on the couch in the den, feet pulled up, looking wan and not a little terrified. Perry—goddamn him—is ministering to her like she’s a wounded cat. Practically petting her. Can I get you some tea? Are you hungry? Are you sure you shouldn’t be lying down, Liv?
She’s brushed him off so far, is keeping her distance, but every query makes Park’s blood pressure shoot up, higher and higher. Lucía and Lindsey are arranging everything for the interview, which has left the three of them, in their lopsided triangle of love and hate and discomfort, stuck in the den, examining the security footage to ascertain just how deeply this creep has gotten into their lives.
Perry quits hovering over Olivia and stands behind Park. “Anything new?”
“Other than this asshole has been stalking us?”
“For how long?”
Park sits back in the chair, running a hand over his chin. “At least a month. My feed only goes back so far. Even if I reached out to the security company, they’d only have it for so long, too. He’s been waltzing in and out of here like he owns the place.”
“Has he taken anything?” Perry asks.
“I think he’s been taking my clothes,” Olivia says.
The brothers respond as one. “What?”
She shifts her sling, looking utterly miserable. “I’m missing a few things. A top. A bra. Some panties. I just assumed they were lost in the wash, or the dry cleaner screwed up.”
“It’s time to call the police,” Perry says.
“Actually, it’s time to talk to Erica Pearl,” Lindsey says. “She just rolled up. Liv, why don’t we get you upstairs. Even with my mad makeup skills, you’re not looking up for this.”
“I’m staying.”
The three Benders meet eyes. All three of them know how stubborn Olivia can be.
“Maybe this isn’t such a great idea,” Perry says, but Park puts up a hand.
“Stow it, okay? There’s no right or good decisions in this. I want my side of the story out there.”
“You should call the damn police and tell them about this.”
“They’ll hear about it in five minutes when I bring it up to the reporter. They haven’t done us any favors. Why should I help them?”
“Park, he has a point,” Olivia says.
“So you’re taking his side against me, is that it?”
Olivia bites her lip. “Please stop attacking me. I am just saying that in light of this new information—”
The reporter shows up at exactly the wrong moment. Or maybe the right one, he doesn’t know. All Park can do is stow his worries, his hurts, and put on the show he knows he must give. There will be time later for them to talk. He realizes they haven’t been properly alone in days. Haven’t had anything more than an argument all week.
He misses his wife.
The worst thing? She doesn’t seem to miss him.
“Hi there!” a bright voice calls from the hallway. Lucía enters the room, followed by Erica Pearl, who swans around the den, looking around at the floor-to-ceiling shelving surrounding the fireplace, the shiplap and stone, the comfortable sofa and chairs. This is a relax space for them, a place to chill, watch a movie, play a game of cards with friends. It’s always been one of Park’s favorites, but it’s becoming decidedly less so right now.
“Are you all set? The light is pretty good. If you’re comfortable, we can chat here. I like this room. It’s homey. Less showy.”
“This room is fine.” Olivia says. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“We haven’t. I’m Erica Pearl, Channel Four. My goodness, are you all right?” The teensiest bit of accusation lingers in the air—did your husband do this to you? Park bristles, but Olivia smiles, graciousness personified.
“Car accident. I hit a deer. I’m fine.”
“Oh, that’s so scary. I’m glad you’re okay. You sure you’re comfortable giving an interview right now? I could always reschedule.”
Like hell they’re rescheduling, Park thinks. They need to get this over with.
“We’re good,” he says, watching Perry out of the corner of his eye. His brother slinks from the room disapprovingly.
Five minutes later, Park and Olivia are miked, and watching Erica Pearl straighten her shirt and adjust the lavalier mic attached to her lapel.
“My lav’s set. Sound check, one, two, three. All’s good?”
The photojournalist nods, gives a thumbs-up. Park takes Olivia’s hand. It is cold and weak in his.
“Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Bender. We’re going to run through the whole story, and you can tell us what you know.”
“I don’t know anything,” Park says. “That’s the problem.”
“Then let’s start at the beginning. I understand the day Beverly Cooke was found, the police came to your front door with some rather shocking news.”
“Yes,” he says, and they’re off. He recounts all the things that have happened so far, of course leaving out a few particulars—the fights with Olivia, the drive by at his daughter’s house, the interrogations by the police. Lucía has coached him, and he has had time to think about what he wants to say. He frames everything in as straightforward language as he can.
He mourns with the rest of the city at Beverly Cooke’s death.
He is horrified and scared for Jillian Kemp and is praying for a quick and happy resolution.
Yes, he has been told that there is a DNA match to a biological son he wasn’t aware of.
Yes, he is cooperating with the police.
Yes, he is now aware that he has twenty-eight biological children.
No, he didn’t know about these children.
Yes, of course he wants to meet them. It will be the greatest joy of his life.
He doesn’t look at Olivia when he says this, knowing it must be a stake to her heart. Her free fist clenches in her lap.
Finding Beverly’s killer is paramount, and all he’s currently focused on.
Please, if you’re seeing this, as your father—though I know I don’t deserve that title—please come forward. We will figure this out.
And when Pearl brings up Melanie Rich, he answers the way he wished he had all those years ago.
A tragedy. An absolute tragedy. My heart goes out to her family. No one should lose a child.
The reporter is eating it up. This is gold. He knows it, she knows it. Scoop, with a capital S.