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Anne Wilkes: No clue.
Defense: Because that’s the very knife that killed Roman Tate. Mrs. Tate’s fingerprints might’ve been on the weapon, but the knife was in Ms. Sands’s possession. Now tell me, do you still think it’s a harmless little hobby, Mrs. Wilkes?
TWENTY-SIX
Two Months Before
December 2018
Call if you need anything.” Anne faced her husband on a clear Saturday morning as she finished detailing her keep-the-kids-alive instructions. “The twins are fed. Gretchen is planning to make a list of presents she wants for her birthday, so I left supplies on the counter. Samuel needs to be read to for half an hour before he gets screen time.”
“I’ve got it under control,” Mark said with a smile that stopped Anne in her tracks. “Go on. Have a good time with your friends.”
Anne stood stock-still while her husband leaned forward and pecked a sweet kiss on her forehead. She could only give him a baffled look as she wrapped her cardigan tighter around her body and spun off toward the car.
As she drove toward Hollywood, Anne let her brain wander over the uneventfulness of the past few months. She had delivered a check to Roman for the full amount he’d requested the night she’d met him at his studio. The night she’d run into Penny. Anne had wondered if Penny would mention the event to Eliza, but thankfully, it didn’t seem to have come up. Thank God for small miracles.
Thank God for big miracles, too. It hadn’t been easy, but Anne had managed to get Roman his money, thanks to a career before children and an unattended 401k. In another lifetime, Anne had held a full-time job for almost a decade. She’d spent that time funneling money into her retirement account, and thanks to a healthy employer match program and impressive growth due to a booming stock market, she’d had enough money to cover Roman’s demands.
There’d been a steep penalty to withdraw the money from her retirement account, but Anne wasn’t going to split hairs over tax laws. She’d made a few phone calls when Mark had been at work to secure the money, funneling it into a new bank account that her husband knew nothing about. She’d proceeded to write Roman a big, fat check that he’d promptly cashed. As far as Anne knew, they were even.
But what was to stop Roman from turning Mark in to the police now, short of more money? Surely the fifty grand she’d paid him wasn’t enough to support Roman Tate’s fast and furious lifestyle for very long.
Anne stopped on a side street that, even in Hollywood, was too unfavorable to require metered parking. Climbing out, she made her way to the trunk where she had two laundry baskets full of the kids’ old stuff. She paused there, one basket in her arm, glancing toward the apartment complex. She wondered sadly if this was as good as it would get for Penny.
Striding through the doorway, Anne washed the thought away and scoped out the entrance for a dial-in panel. It took a good few minutes before Anne realized there was no code…or security features whatsoever. The door was unlocked.
Anne hesitated in the lobby, but it was only a second before Penny’s head popped over the second-floor railing. Her face lit into a smile.
“Come on up,” Penny called, shuffling her rapidly expanding frame to the top of the stairs. “Better yet, I’ll come down.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you lift a finger.” Anne shook her head at Penny. “I’m here to help. With how much you’ve helped me out these last few months with the kids, it’s the least I could do.”
Anne began to climb, her shoes making loud, echoing noises. The steps hadn’t been swept in what appeared to be months, and several of the boards were creaky and lopsided. The whole apartment had a slightly unsanitary feel, and Anne couldn’t help but think it was no place for a young woman to live alone, let alone with a baby. Anne had the guilty thought that she should have paid Penny a higher hourly wage.
After summiting the staircase, Anne deposited the first laundry basket inside Penny’s apartment. When she straightened, she studied the studio space and hoped her face reflected a pleasant expression. In reality, Anne was surprised. She hadn’t expected to find a luxurious condo tucked inside the unsavory building, but she also hadn’t expected…this.
The apartment was the size of a shoebox. And not a nice shoebox belonging to a fine pair of high heels but a teensy little thing from the corner discount rack, dusty and crumpled and missing one flip-flop. The kitchen was cordoned off by a small counter. One person could fit inside it at a time—cooking dinner as a couple would be impossible. The living room blurred into the bedroom without any real separation. If it could be called a bedroom.
Penny’s bed consisted of a mattress and box spring set on the floor. Her dresser was a scratched-up mess that suddenly made Anne’s refurbished, makeshift vanity look as if it’d been salvaged from a royal palace. Her closet door was the accordion type that folded in on both sides, except one side was completely missing, and the other looked permanently jimmied open.
A pleasant breeze sailed in through the window, but upon closer inspection, Anne realized it wasn’t by choice. The window was propped up with a sturdy wooden ruler, and the screen had a huge rip down the center.
“It’s not much,” Penny said sheepishly. “But it’s the best I can do.”
Anne caught herself staring. It had been so long since she’d been a broke student that she’d forgotten what it was like to pull herself up by the bootstraps and make ends meet.
“When I was first pregnant, I was terrified,” Anne reassured Penny. “I was afraid I didn’t have enough—enough finances, enough stability, enough stuff. I told Mark, and he told me the stupidest thing, but I thought it was adorable at the time. And it was actually quite helpful.”
“What’s that?”
“People have been raising babies since the days of cavemen. And all they had was a rock for a bed and a stick,” Anne said with a thin smile. “They’d look at this place and find it luxurious. You’re doing fine, Penny. The baby doesn’t care what your apartment looks like. He just wants to be loved.”
“I have love,” Penny said softly. “I really do. It’s starting to become real.”
“Becoming a mother is an experience you can’t quite put into words,” Anne said. “You’ll find out soon enough. It gets better, I promise.”
Penny wrung her hands together. “I hope so. At the moment, it’s more overwhelming than exciting. I’m realizing how expensive babies can be. I can’t thank you enough for giving us your extra stuff.”
