by Nicola Marsh
While I haven’t seen the GHB-making stash Elly found yet, I know enough about juries that a smooth-talking attorney can explain away drain cleaner and floor stripper. All we have is circumstantial evidence. Would it have been enough to prosecute? Doubtful.
I’d hoped to break Avery under interrogation but the man had been a consummate liar. I doubt he would’ve cracked so he would’ve walked.
Not that anyone deserved to die, even slime like Avery.
But this is wrong.
I know what I saw.
Ris tries to convince me otherwise. I listen to her blather about self-defense. I stare at Elly, Avery’s blood dripping down her cheek, into her hair. I remember the times over the last two years the three of us have spent together. Coffee dates at Sea Breeze on the oceanfront, checking out the hot lifeguards and giggling like teenage girls. Late night suppers at The Lookout after a movie when we’d dissect the plot and wax lyrical about our favorite actors. Ris’s many parties where I’d mingle with the locals, glad that I’d met women like them I can call friends. Elly being there for me that night I’d been drowning my sorrows alone at a bar. I remember all of it: special times with my closest friends. And I waver. Who am I to determine what is the truth?
The truth is, Avery would’ve raped Elly again, and we know he’s capable of murder. The truth is, Elly will have to live with the guilt forever, it will taint her entire life. What kind of friend am I? Ris is standing by Elly despite everything Elly has done. Will I turn my back on Elly when she needs me most? Or will I tell a lie that will follow me for the rest of my life?
Sirens draw close and cut off. Backup is outside. This room will be swarming with cops shortly.
I have seconds to decide.
I look at Elly again and this time, when her agonized gaze locks with mine, I know.
If I’d been in her position, I would’ve done the same. Any woman would’ve. Avery had drugged her, abused her. He wouldn’t have let Elly get away with besmirching his precious reputation.
He would’ve come after her.
That’s what settles it for me. Avery would’ve walked despite killing Jodi and he wouldn’t have left Elly alone.
He still won’t; she’ll have to live with the memories of this horrific scene. And I don’t want to make it anymore painful for her than it needs to be.
“It was self-defense,” I announce, sounding as authoritative as I can. I see the relief in Elly’s eyes, mirrored in Ris’s. “She had no choice.”
Ron bursts through the door, followed by two detectives and three constables.
Ris and I back away, giving them access to the scene. Ron’s a veteran but his eyes widen when he sees Elly covered in blood and the livid bruises on her neck.
When his gaze swings to Avery, I see disgust.
I usher Ris off to the side. “We’ll all be questioned. You ready for that?”
Her eyes are bright with unshed tears and she nods. “Absolutely. I won’t let any of you down.”
I hug her, sensing she needs it. She clings to me, cries a little against my shoulder.
When she releases me, her expression is serene. “Thanks, Claire.”
I know she’s thanking me for more than the comforting hug.
I have to ask. “How do you do that? Stand by her, after all that’s happened?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Because we all deserve a second chance.”
I couldn’t agree with her more.
Forty-Nine
Elly
I’m photographed and swabbed and examined, prodded and poked and stared at, with pity and curiosity and suspicion.
I don’t care.
I’m free.
Once forensics scour the scene and the cottage, and copious samples are taken from me, I’m given a towel and clean clothing and allowed to shower. I stand under the spray, tilt my face to the rain-head and savor the water washing away the last remnants of Avery off me.
It’s like being reborn.
I soap and scrub until my skin feels raw. When I towel off and see my reflection in the mirror I look like a beet. I don’t bother with make-up. I finally feel clean.
After paramedics check me over and give me the all-clear, Claire’s partner, Ron, is solicitous. I assume Claire’s asked him to take care of me because he’s kind and polite on our drive back to the station. He doesn’t treat me like a murder suspect. Then again, Claire’s probably told him she witnessed the entire thing and it was self-defense.
I still can’t believe Ris came through for me like that.
I underestimated her. Once a nurturer, always a nurturer. Even after the way I let her down, she still cares for me. I feel bad for not trusting her enough with the secrets of my past. For taking advantage of her friendship, for sleeping with Ryan, for outing her husband as a filthy rapist.
I feel horrible but in killing Avery, I did Ris the ultimate favor, one friend to another.
I set her free.
She’d been trapped in a marriage with a depraved monster, being his trophy wife, hosting his parties, under his financial control, clueless to the vile pig she slept next to most nights.
Then there’s Maggie and what I did to her… I’d wanted to reveal Ryan’s despicable infidelity by bringing her to the cottage last night. I never would’ve imagined in a million years what else he’d done.
When we reach the station I’m ushered into an interrogation room. Before the heavy steel door closes, I glimpse Claire and Ris entering different rooms, individually.
I’m not afraid. My friends will stand by me.
They have before.
Friends comfort and protect, even in the worst possible circumstances, and these women are my friends. They proved it the night of the rape and now, by agreeing that what I did was in self-defense, and I’m confident they’ll stick by our story and tell the cops exactly that.
As Ris had stood over me next to Avery’s lifeless body, I’d seen the relief in her eyes. No hatred. No disgust. Just blatant gratitude, like I’d given her a reprieve.
I’d known then she wouldn’t blame me for killing her husband.
Claire had been the surprise. Upstanding, uptight Claire, whose clean-living reputation can never be questioned. I’d observed the war she’d waged, her face so easy to read. Conscience versus friendship, truth versus lie, right versus wrong.
Lucky for me, she made the decision to stand by our friendship. I’ll never forget it.
I answer the detectives’ repetitive questions, my voice quivering as I recite what happened. Tears fall and I struggle to stem them. I hate being a victim.
The police are sympathetic. I see it in their pitying stares, in the way they dart uncomfortable glances at each other when I go into detail about how Avery and Ryan confessed their involvement in Jodi’s murder, Avery revealing how he raped me and was going to do it again. They wonder why I didn’t report it at the time and I tell them I didn’t want to go through an investigation that tends to put the victim on trial. They nod compassionately and I refocus on Avery attacking me, and my self-defense.
I’m being watched from behind the one-way glass too. I can feel the unseen stares. The back of my neck prickles because of it. The questions continue. I don’t think the detectives are trying to trip me up as much as get facts straight. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. Claire warned me her subordinates would interrogate me because even though she’s the lead on the case she’s a friend.
Once they’re done they leave and two other officers enter the room. One is tall, good-looking, with curly dark hair and blue eyes. His suit fits him well. He looks like a TV cop, an actor paid to be on set. The other is shorter, older, with a paunch. But his eyes are kind and the corners of his mouth tilt up rather than down.
They question me all over again. Asking me to repeat my story and to outline exactly what happened in the cottage. After what seems like an eternity, I sense they’re winding down when the hot cop glances at his watch beneath the table then gives his partner
a nod. There’s a knock on the door and I try to stay calm. I know what’s about to happen. The cops who interviewed me first would’ve interrogated Claire and Ris to ensure our stories match.
He strides to the door, opens it, and talks in a low voice for what seems like forever. I’m holding my breath but the short cop is watching me and I force myself to exhale. The door closes and my heart leaps.
This is it.
He comes back to the table. I try to read his face.
“Thanks for your assistance in this matter, Ms. Knight, if we need further clarification or more information we’ll be in touch. We’re sorry for what you went through.” The cop holds out his hand and I shake it. “You’re free to go.”
I’m glad he hasn’t said, “For now, you’re free to go.” The omission is significant.
“Thanks for your help.” The pudgy one shakes my hand too and this time, his mouth curves into a full-blown smile.
I’m free.
As I exit the room, I see the doors where Claire and Ris entered are closed but I have no idea if they’ve already left or they’re still in there. I leave the station, half hoping to see my friends waiting for me. They’re not.
What did I expect? For us to revert to the way we were?
People like me don’t have friendships that stay the distance. I’ll move on. Find new friends. Try not to repeat the mistakes of the past. It’s what I do and I have to be okay with that.
A hand lands on my shoulder from behind and I spin around.
“Maggie…” I’m lost for words, my mind blank as to what to say to this woman I once called my friend.
“Come with me,” she says, her voice soft and devoid of judgment, so I fall into step beside her as we head for the boardwalk.
A brisk Atlantic breeze whips my ponytail across my eyes and when I tuck it into my collar I see Maggie studying me with open curiosity.
“They’ve arrested Ryan for his part in that girl’s death,” she says, gesturing to a bench where we sit.
She stares out to sea and I remain silent, preferring she talk. After the truth I divulged to her last night, I’ve said more than enough.
“They tested his DNA. He’s a match.” She shakes her head. “He fathered that baby.”
She makes ‘that baby’ sound like the devil’s spawn.
“I’m sorry—”
“No you’re not.” She spins so fast to face me I almost topple off the end of the bench in my haste to shuffle away. “I knew about your affair with my husband. Why do you think I tolerated your half-assed chatter every Monday morning?”
Her laugh borders on crazy. “I sat in your office week after week, wondering if you’d ever have the guts to tell me the truth. But you didn’t so I waited.”
Confusion clouds my brain. I’m tired so I can’t make sense of what she’s saying. I have to ask. “Why? If you knew, why did you befriend me?”
“Because you’re damaged, like me.” She taps her temple and makes loopy circles. “Up here.”
I’m nothing like her. She probably has an undiagnosed medical condition. I’ve become so bitter and twisted I can justify anything, including sleeping with a friend’s husband.
“I’m not a good person. Don’t make excuses for me.”
She doesn’t speak for a moment but her unwavering stare is really starting to bug me.
“Why did you want to see me, Maggie?”
“To tell you this. I won’t be divorcing Ryan. The charges won’t stick. I’ll pay whatever it takes to get him out.” She shrugs. “Besides, he didn’t really do anything. He told me. How he asked Avery to speak to that girl, to intimidate her into leaving, but Avery screwed up. So, he’s not really guilty.”
I stare at her in disbelief but wisely stay silent.
“I need him. He makes me happy.” Her snort is loud and unladylike. “I know what people say. That he married me for my money. That he’s spineless, a kept man, that he’s nothing without me and Avery.”
Her lips compress into a thin line. “I don’t care. We’re a team and he puts up with my eccentricities when not many men would so I tolerate his faults.” She pokes me in the arm, hard, and I wince. “Stay the hell away from my husband, because if I get the slightest inkling anything’s going on again, you’ll both be sorry.”
It’s an idle threat. What’s she going to do? Money can only buy you so much and she’s not the type to order a hit. If so, I would’ve been dead a long time ago.
“You don’t have to worry. I meant what I said when I took you to the cottage. I did this to give you the wake-up call I got too late.”
It sounds lame but I continue. “I fell in love with the wrong guy once. Idolized him. Married him. Only to discover he already had a wife and kids and I was the idiot bride who fell for a bigamist.”
I glimpse sympathy in her eyes. I don’t need it, but I’m glad she understands my motivation, no matter how warped.
But I’m done. I’ve messed with the last woman. I can’t spend my life exacting revenge when the one person hurting the most is me.
Maggie stands and looks down on me with pity.
I don’t say anything as she walks away.
Fifty
Marisa
I need closure.
I have to see Elly before she leaves town. I know it’s crazy but I feel guilty that my husband was the one who raped her. I feel like I should’ve suspected something, I should’ve picked up some sign that he was dangerous. But I had no idea and I’ll never get any real answers as to why a successful, handsome man had to resort to drugging women to have sex with them.
We were vanilla all the way. He never made odd demands or choked me or suggested any kind of kink. Then again, he was a control freak. He exerted influence on Ryan his entire life and I allowed him to think he controlled me. It stands to reason he would get off on dominating women who couldn’t fight back.
I can’t think about the fact that he would attack these women then come home to me. It makes me want to claw my skin off and no amount of showering or dips in the frigid Atlantic will ever make me feel clean again.
I’m glad Elly’s leaving Gledhill. I can get past her betrayal of Maggie but every time I see her I know I’ll remember how my husband violated her and feel bad all over again.
I have to say something today. It feels odd, apologizing for something so horrendous that I had no control over, but then I remember how broken she’d been that night and I feel sick to my stomach for the damage my husband inflicted.
I glance around the table set in the far corner of the garden: cheese platter, fruit, Chardonnay. I wonder if the irony will be lost on them; our last garden party mirroring the first time we got together a few years ago.
I fiddle with the napkins and readjust the cutlery. I’m nervous. Will they think I’m mad for doing this? One last hurrah before we go our separate ways?
It has been a week since I saw Avery die. I haven’t seen either of them since that day at the police station. I haven’t wanted to. Once Elly reported the rape, the police compared alleged attacks on other women so I’ve been busy conferring with them, organizing the funeral, dealing with extensive legal issues. Avery was a very rich man and I’ll benefit, along with the girls. They’re flying in tomorrow for the memorial service. I expected them to be more upset when I told them the news but they must get their stoic outlook from me. They’d shed tears, hugged each other but had been more concerned about me.
I haven’t told them the entire truth. I stuck to a few doctored facts. Avery had been helping Ryan get out of a sordid blackmail, Elly had discovered the truth, they had a massive fight, he tripped and cut himself on a broken vase in a freak accident and bled out.
That’s all they need to know. His death will be hard enough on them. And if the police match the MO and evidence on other victims to Avery’s raping Elly – and the extent of his crimes come to light – there’s time enough for them to deal with the ugly truth.
Claire rounds the corner of the hous
e and waves. She’s wearing a simple white sundress that sets off her tan, and silver flip-flops. Her hair is loose and swinging around her shoulders. She’s even slicked gloss over her lips. She looks carefree in a way I’ve never seen before.
“Hey, Ris.” She hugs me, her strong arms wrapping around me and squeezing tight.
“I’m so glad you came…” I trail off as I see Elly. She halts near the house for a moment, as if questioning the wisdom of turning up here. Then she squares her shoulders and walks toward us, her steps confident as usual in her four-inch heels.
She looks fabulous in a tight-fitting yellow dress that ends mid-thigh. Her hair is blow-dried, her make-up flawless. I know what Ryan and my husband saw in her, though what Avery did was abominable.
My husband had been psychopathic as well as egotistical and stupid. I know I’ll be secretly thanking Elly every single day for doing me a favor and getting rid of him.
I must stiffen inadvertently because when Claire releases me, she says, “I won’t have to play referee between you two, will I?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Claire shoots me a dubious look so I add, “I wouldn’t have asked her if I didn’t want her here. Besides, I feel like I owe her… something.”
Claire nods. “Closure. I get it.”
“Exactly.”
Elly reaches us, her smile uncertain. “Hi, ladies.”
Claire mumbles a greeting, I wave toward the table. “Take a seat. I think we need wine for this.”
Elly looks grateful that I haven’t launched a verbal tirade and reaches for the wine bottle. “I’m glad you reached out to me, Ris.”
“We need to talk.” I wait until she’s filled three glasses before handing one to Claire and picking up one myself. “When I first discovered what you did, Elly, I overreacted because I felt betrayed, even though you’d had the affair with Ryan. I felt like I let you into my life and you undermined my family. But now, after learning the extent of Avery’s depravity and what he did to you…”