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“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“Roman, did you get lost out there?” Another titter of laughter followed as a woman’s voice trickled through a rectangle of light splicing the otherwise dark driveway. Roman must have left the door cracked.
“Be right in,” he called over his shoulder, keeping his gaze firmly moored on Penny’s. “I can’t talk now. Soon, I promise. I’ll explain everything.”
“But—”
Then, like the very ocean itself, Roman tugged Penny below the surface as his lips crashed against hers, and together, they swirled, topsy-turvy through uncharted waters. Her hands dug into his hair, and though she tried to stop, she couldn’t. When Roman finally released her from the kiss, Penny was left standing speechless on the sidewalk outside the Tate house, watching the man she loved return to his pretty little life.
TRANSCRIPT
Defense: When’s the last time you had a glass of wine, Mrs. Wilkes?
Anne Wilkes: A few days ago. I don’t know. I don’t keep track.
Defense: That’s interesting, isn’t it? Many recovering alcoholics know the date of their last drink.
Anne Wilkes: I’m not a recovering alcoholic.
Defense: Did you or did you not check yourself into a rehab facility three years ago? Your son Samuel would have been about a year old at the time.
Anne Wilkes: I checked myself in, and I checked myself right back out. I’m fine. Going to that center was a mistake. I had everything under control then, and I still do now.
Defense: Your husband testified yesterday that he’s been concerned about you. That you’re drinking again. Have you seen a doctor recently, Mrs. Wilkes?
Anne Wilkes: I’m sorry, how is this relevant to the case?
Defense: Your Honor, Mrs. Wilkes has a history of making rash, unstable, and downright dangerous decisions. She also had a reason to want the victim dead. I think Mrs. Wilkes’s precarious mental state is completely relevant to the case at hand.
The Court: Please answer the question, Mrs. Wilkes.
Anne Wilkes: My mental state isn’t precarious. It’s fine. I’m fine. I walked away from my kids once, and I don’t plan on doing it ever again. Not for him, at least. If I had killed him, I would have made damn sure I wasn’t caught. Whoever killed him was sloppy. That’s not how I work.
FOURTEEN
Six Months Before
August 2018
The launch party for Be Free is tonight, and I kept your name on the guest list in case you changed your mind about attending,” Eliza said. “You really should come. You’ll love Marguerite. Plus, you need to get out and talk with other adults. Keep your mind off things at home.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you know where to find me. It’s not every day you’re invited to the Pelican Hotel.”
Anne considered Eliza’s invitation. “I’d love to come, but the kids…”
“What about that new sitter Roman sent your way?”
“Penny? She’s great. But I had her over twice last week to help, and we saw each other on the weekend… I can’t spring this on her short notice.”
“You have a husband, don’t you?”
“Mark? You think he’d offer to watch all four kids at bedtime?”
The pause told Anne that Eliza was having a hard time understanding the monumental task she’d be asking of her husband.
