“Not wiping away the prints?”
“Not just that. How about stealing the van and the Subaru in the first place? Why steal vehicles to use while you do your dirt if you’re going to flash your face to anyone who cares to look at it?”
Jeannie listened to this with growing dismay. As his wife, she couldn’t ask the questions that his prompted: If you had such doubts, why in God’s name did you act the way you did? And why so fast? Yes, she had encouraged him, and so maybe she owned a little of this current trouble, but she hadn’t had all the information. A cheap out, but mine own, she thought . . . and winced again.
As if reading her mind （and after almost twenty-five years of marriage, he could probably do that）， he said, “This isn’t all buyer’s remorse, you know—don’t get that idea. Bill Samuels and I talked about it. He says it doesn’t have to make sense. He says Terry did it the way he did because he went crazy. That the impulse to do it—the need to do it, for all I know, although you’d never get me to put it that way in court—kept building up and up. There have been similar cases. Bill says, ‘Oh yes, he planned to do something, and he put some of the pieces in place, but when he saw Frank Peterson last Tuesday, pushing that bike with the broken chain, all the planning went out the window. The top blew off, and Dr. Jekyll turned into Mr. Hyde.’？”
“A sexual sadist in a full-blown frenzy,” she murmured. “Terry Maitland. Coach T.”
“It made sense then and it makes sense now,” he said, almost belligerently.
Maybe, she could have replied, but what about after, honey? What about when it was over, and he was sated? Did you and Bill consider that? How come he still didn’t wipe his fingerprints, and went right on showing his face?
“There was something under the driver’s seat of the van,” Ralph said.
“Really? What?”
“A scrap of paper. Part of a take-out menu, maybe. Probably means nothing, but I want to take a good close look at it. Pretty sure it was checked into evidence.” He threw what remained of his coffee into the grass and stood up. “What I want more is a look at the Sheraton security footage for last Tuesday and Wednesday. Also any footage from the restaurant where he says that bunch of teachers went to dinner.”
“If you get a good look at his face in any of the footage, send me a screen-grab.” And when he raised his eyebrows: “I’ve known Terry as long as you have, and if that wasn’t him in Cap City, I’ll know.” She smiled. “After all, women are more observant than men. You said so yourself.”
9
Sarah and Grace Maitland ate almost no breakfast, which didn’t disturb Marcy so much as the unaccustomed absence of phones and mini-tablets from their immediate vicinity. The police had let them keep their electronics, but after a few quick looks, Sarah and Grace left their gadgets in their bedrooms. Whatever news or social chatter they had found was nothing either girl wanted to pursue. And after her own quick look out the living room window, where she saw two news vans and a Flint City PD cruiser parked at the curb, Marcy pulled the curtains. How long was this day going to be? And what in God’s name was she going to do with it?
Howie Gold answered that for her. He called at quarter past eight, sounding remarkably upbeat.
“We’re going to see Terry this afternoon. Together. Ordinarily, visitors have to be requested by the inmate twenty-four hours in advance and pre-approved, but I was able to cut through that. The one thing I couldn’t get past was the non-contact thing. He’s on a maximum security hold. It means talking to him through glass, but it’s better than the way it looks in the movies. You’ll see.”
“Okay.” Feeling breathless. “What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at one thirty. You should have his best suit, plus a nice dark tie. For the arraignment. And you can bring him something nice to eat. Nuts, fruit, candy. Put it in a see-through bag, okay?”
“Okay. What about the girls? Should I—”
“No, the girls stay home. County is no place for them. Find someone to sit with them, in case the press guys get pushy. And tell them all is well.”
She didn’t know if she could find anyone—she hated to impose on Jamie after last night. Surely if she spoke to the cop in the cruiser out front, he would keep the press off the lawn. Wouldn’t he?
“Is all well? Is it really?”
“I think it is. Alec Pelley just busted a jumbo-sized pi?ata in Cap City, and all the prizes fell into our laps. I’m going to send you a link to something. Up to you whether or not you share it with your chickadees, but I know I would, if they were mine.”