I wasn’t sure I heard correctly. Melissa sounded so upset, I must have been mistaken. I clicked stop, pressed rewind, then play and listened again.
Melissa: No, no, that’s not true! I would never, he would never, we weren’t having an affair! She was!
I was stunned, in disbelief. It shocked me to my foundations. It couldn’t be right. I clicked play to see if she took it back or corrected herself.
Bryan: Are you saying that Lucinda had an affair over the summer?
Melissa: I didn’t mean to, it’s only because your accusation was so ridiculous and—
Bryan: Who was she having an affair with?
Melissa: I’m sorry I said anything, I’m not going to tell you. I told the police his name and I need pressure on them to look into all possible leads, and he’s one. He might know something, or where she was last, or help the police in some way. He’s one of her clients and well connected, and you can never tell where these things lead to—
I listened, horrified. My head was spinning. I couldn’t process it fast enough. Lucinda had an affair? She had cheated on me, last summer? With a client?
Bryan: If Lucinda was having an affair, that’s all the more reason that Jason would kill her, isn’t it?
Melissa: No, that’s not what happened—
Bryan: You just supplied the perfect motive! He killed her in revenge and took the kids. Or he killed the whole family.
Melissa: No, no. Jason would never—
Bryan: What if he found out about her infidelity and killed her? Isn’t that much more likely? It happens every day! Why are you trying to protect Jason?
Melissa: No, you’ve got this all wrong, we should stop this interview—
Bryan: No, please—
There was a click on the audio, and it ended in silence.
I was reeling. It wasn’t possible. I found myself rising, wanting to go ask Lucinda if it was true, to confront her, but the strangest thing happened. My body went numb all over, as if my muscles were frozen. I didn’t know if I could take a step. It was as if my body were absorbing the shock, embodying the shock.
I stood there, trying to make sense of what I had just learned, letting my body metabolize the revelation.
It took me a few minutes, and when I did, I went straight upstairs.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I entered our bedroom to find Lucinda sitting on the bed, her laptop in front of her. I closed the door behind me, since Ethan was asleep down the hall. I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t say anything, not yet. I didn’t know how to begin the conversation. I knew I was angry, but I didn’t feel angry. I felt shock.
Lucinda slid off her reading glasses, lines creasing her forehead. “I can’t believe how long this took me. Maybe I’m more of a perfectionist than I thought. Take a look.”
I walked to the bed, on autopilot.
Lucinda gestured at the laptop. “I picked the song, that was the hardest part. I went with Sarah McLachlan. I know everybody uses it, but I love it when she says, ‘weep not for the memories.’？”
My gaze fell to the freeze-frame of the video, which was of Allison as a toddler, climbing out of her crib. My throat thickened, but Lucinda didn’t notice, focused on the video.
“Here, listen.” She clicked play, and the first few notes of a guitar grabbed me by the heart. I struggled to stay in emotional control, and the music played behind another photo of Allison, one I had taken. She was raising her lacrosse stick in the air after a goal, and I shared that moment with her through the lens, as if we were still connected through space and time. I couldn’t take my eyes from the photo.
“Please turn it off,” I heard myself say.
“Sorry, I know.” Lucinda pressed stop, and the video froze, blurring my daughter’s pretty face. The music ended abruptly, and the bedroom fell completely silent.
“You had an affair,” I said calmly. A statement of fact, not an accusation, not really. My voice sounded so soft, it was almost a whisper. I never was a yeller. Neither was my father.
“What?” Lucinda looked up, blinking.
“You heard me.” Another statement of fact. It wasn’t an accusation when it was true. The truth had a ring, and I could hear it, leaving my own lips.
“I didn’t—” Lucinda started to say, but her gaze met mine, and I saw agony behind her eyes.
“Tell me the truth.”
Lucinda’s hand went to her mouth, her eyes glistening, and her features seemed to collapse, her eyebrows sloping down, her mouth drooping. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
So it was true. And her confirmation made it worse.
“Jason, I’m sorry, so sorry, I love you, I swear. It was a mistake, a horrible mistake, it’s over now—”
“I’m surprised, so surprised.”
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” Lucinda’s eyes brimmed with tears. “It just happened, I met him doing corporate portraits, last summer—”
“You slept with a corporate portrait? You hate that work, you hate those accounts.”
“I made a mistake, a terrible mistake—”
“Don’t tell me, let me guess. Doctor? Lawyer? Indian chief?” I realized I was finding my voice, and it was sarcastic. Maybe humor would cushion the blow, it always had. “Did he do the folded-arms? Wear a stethoscope? I always think that’s a bit much, don’t you? Like, we get it, you’re a doctor.”
“It didn’t last long, I broke it off, and it didn’t matter, he didn’t matter.”
“That makes it worse. I can’t believe you would cheat on me with somebody who didn’t matter.” I couldn’t imagine who she had been with. “So who was he? Who was it that it just happened with?”
“You don’t know him. A lawyer in Philly.”
“Who? I can’t wait to look him up.”
“Paul Hart.”
I gasped. I recognized the name instantly. “Not the Paul Hart who represents Milo?”
Lucinda frowned, taken aback. “No, of course not. He’s a partner at Lattimore. They don’t represent people like Milo.”
“Yes, they do. A lawyer at Lattimore named Paul Hart represents Milo. He represents Big George, Junior, and GVO.” I met her eye, each of us absolutely aghast.
“That can’t be!”
“I read the pleadings. He’s represented GVO for years.” I felt sick to my stomach. She had slept with the man responsible for Milo being free to kill our daughter.
“No, that can’t be true!”
I couldn’t say another word. I couldn’t stay in the room with her.
“Jason, wait.” Lucinda rose and came after me. “It can’t be the same one!”
“Leave me alone.” I hurried from the room, hustled downstairs, and crossed to the screen door, but I stopped on the threshold. If I went out, Dom or Wiki could see me on the security cameras or on patrol. I didn’t want to answer questions about what was going on.
I rested my hand on the doorknob, steadying myself. I felt shocked, blown out of my shoes, like a percussive wave following a blast.
I inhaled again and again. The driveway was still and silent. Night cloaked the marsh. The lights burned through a sheer mist. It had been raining, and the air off the marsh smelled more ripe than usual. I couldn’t see a single star in the sky, only a cloud cover, impenetrably black.