I sprint toward the man, who starts to run into the woods. My ankle is screaming at me to stop, but I’m not listening. I’m blind with rage and I have my target in my sights. I run after him as quickly as I can, ducking under tree branches and leaping over the patches of dense undergrowth. The man briefly looks back at me, his face nothing more than a quick blur, but he must see that I’m gaining on him because he begins to run even faster. I can feel my legs pumping, my heart pounding. I’m gaining on him now, I can hear both of us breathing heavily, one of us with fury, the other with fear.
The hooded figure stumbles on an exposed tree root and is forced to slow his pace. This is my chance. I spring off of my injured ankle and lunge towards him. I grab him by the waist and wrestle him to the ground. I pin him underneath me as he covers his face with his arms to protect him from the blows that he must know are coming.
I raise my fist into the air and prepare to strike a man for the first time in my life. I’ve never been a violent man, but right now I cannot stop what he has set in motion. I’m driven by a primal need to protect what is mine. I land the first punch striking him in the side of the head. He moves his arms to protect his injured temple, and I hit him again, this time my fist colliding with his jaw. The man is yelling something, but I cannot hear what he’s saying. Blood is roaring in my ears, I am no longer in control. I hit him again, a sickening crack, as blood begins to trickle from his nose.
The sight of the deep red blood snaps me out of my rage-induced trance and I let up just long enough to hear him shout: ‘Stop! NYPD!’
Chapter 38
Allison
DAY 10
What the hell was he thinking? I keep replaying the events of the morning over and over again in my head; pulling up to Vince Taylor’s house to find him on his doorstep, his arm protectively wrapped around his wife’s shoulders.
‘You need to arrest him!’ he ordered, pointing across the drive to Kinnon who sat on the curb, shoulders hunched over with blood dripping from his nose. ‘I found him sneaking around my property, spying on my wife. And it wasn’t the first time either!’
I looked over at Kinnon. ‘Is this true?’
‘I wasn’t spying on his wife, I was—’
‘Actually, maybe it’s best if you stop talking for now,’ I directed, holding a hand up to stop his words.
‘I want to press charges against him for trespassing,’ Vince continued. ‘I’ve already placed a call to my attorney.’
‘We’ll handle it, Mr Taylor.’
I scowled at Kinnon. ‘Get in the car. Now.’
‘Aren’t you going to handcuff him?’ Vince demanded.
‘It’s not necessary. I assure you that we will look into this incident.’
Kinnon walked to my car, kicking up gravel in the driveway like a sullen child.
‘What the hell were you doing on Vince Taylor’s property?’ I shouted the second the car doors closed behind us. I’d gotten a call from dispatch earlier that morning that one of our officers was involved in an altercation on private property. When she told me it was Kinnon, and whose property he was on, I volunteered to handle the situation myself. I wanted to keep this incident as quiet as possible. But inside the car, alone with Kinnon, I can be as loud as I’d like.
‘I want to speak to my attorney first.’
‘You have to be kidding me.’
‘No. I’m not.’
We drove back to the station in an uncomfortable silence. I was angry enough to ring his neck. I don’t know what he was doing on Vince Taylor’s property, without any kind of warrant, but he has jeopardized our investigation.
Now he’s seated in interview room two, whispering conspiratorially with his disheveled attorney. Kinnon’s attorney, Arnold Finch, is a tall, gangly man with scruffy hair and an even scruffier suit. His tie is tucked into his shirt and one of his shoelaces is untied and frayed at the ends. I hope for Kinnon’s sake that he’s savvier than he appears.
‘What the hell was he doing out there?’ Lanner asks me as we wait for the okay to enter the interview room.
‘I don’t know. Wouldn’t tell me without his attorney.’
‘This can’t be good.’
‘No. It can’t.’
Kinnon’s attorney finally pokes his head out of the room and lets us know that they’re ready to answer a few questions.
‘I’ll take the lead,’ Lanner suggests, which makes sense given that he and Kinnon have more of an established relationship. I nod in agreement.
Lanner and I sit down across from Kinnon and his attorney. It feels so much more adversarial than our discussion in the conference room only yesterday.
‘Kinnon, we just need to know why you were at Vince Taylor’s house today,’ Lanner begins. ‘I’m sure this is all some sort of misunderstanding, and we need to straighten it out before it gets out of hand.’
Kinnon looks over at his attorney who gives him a nod, directing him to answer the question.
‘I was taking photos of Taylor’s wife.’
‘Why in the hell would you be doing that?’ I all but yell. Lanner looks over at me raising one eyebrow. I know I was supposed to let him take the lead, but the words seemed to fly out of my mouth before I could stop them. What Kinnon did was just so colossally stupid.
‘I wanted to sell them to World View.’
I feel my jaw drop, before I quickly close it again, clenching my teeth in anger.
‘Why would you do that?’ It’s Lanner’s turn to ask now, but he does so much more calmly than I had.
‘I needed the money. I’ve run myself into a little bit of trouble. I have this gambling debt, and …’
Kinnon’s attorney looks over at him. A subtle warning.
‘Well, the details don’t matter. All that matters is that I’m in debt, and I needed to get out of it. I figured World View would hand over some quick cash for photos of the wife.’
‘Was today the first time you’ve done that?’
Kinnon hesitates a moment. ‘No, it wasn’t,’ he finally confesses. ‘I went there a few times. The first time I was trying to get a photo of Vince, but he spotted me. I ended up with a picture of Nicole Taylor in a bikini though. It got me a few bucks and held me over for a while. I didn’t plan on going back; I was going to find another way to pay off what I owe, but that didn’t go to plan. I still had more debt than I could handle, so I tried again to get a photo of Vince a few days ago. But he saw me and chased me off the property before I could get anything. I went back this morning to give it another shot, and well, this time Vince caught up with me. Guy is faster than he looks.’
I’m biting my tongue so hard that I’m surprised I haven’t yet tasted blood. I want to scream at him for interfering with our investigation just to make some quick cash, but I agreed to let Lanner handle the questioning and so I have to try to let him do that.
‘Did you give anything else to World View? Maybe Layla’s diary pages?’
‘No! No, that wasn’t me! I swear!’
‘So it was only the photos? You never leaked any other information to the press?’
‘Well, I … I … when I couldn’t get the photos I needed, I leaked the info about the old statutory rape report. But I swear that was all they got from me. You guys have to believe me!’
‘We want to believe you, Kinnon, we really do, but you must know how bad this looks. Especially after we found that photo of you standing next to the vic yesterday.’
Kinnon’s attorney looks shocked, his eyebrows in high arches, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. I assume Kinnon forgot to mention the photo to him, the same way he forgot to mention its existence to us for over a week.
‘Look, I recognized her from the gym, okay? I saw her there a few times and, like, of course I noticed her. She was hot as hell. I even tried to talk to her once, but the girl was cold as ice. Wouldn’t even give me the time of day. I didn’t want to mention it earlier because I didn’t want to get kicked off the case. And what does it really
matter anyway? It’s not like I knew a single thing about her. I didn’t even know her name until she turned up dead.’
‘It matters because you lied to us. Had you been honest up front, maybe you could have still worked this case, but you weren’t. And now we’re finding it hard to trust you.’
‘Hard?’ I finally interject. ‘It’s more than hard to trust you, Kinnon. I’m finding it impossible. First that photo turns up, then you get into a wrestling match with our prime suspect while trespassing on his property, and now we find out that you lied to us about knowing the victim too. It makes me question what else you’ve lied about. Honestly, I think you have those diary pages too.’
‘I don’t! Check my apartment if you want to!’
‘Whoa now, let’s discuss this,’ Kinnon’s attorney interrupts.
‘No, we don’t need to discuss it,’ Kinnon protests. ‘I have nothing to hide. Check my apartment. You’ll see.’
Lanner and I have been wading through Kinnon’s disgusting apartment for hours and have not found anything aside from sweaty socks, balled-up tissues, and cereal bowls with the crusty remains of Kinnon’s breakfasts stacked up in the sink.
‘I can’t believe a grown man would choose to live like this,’ I remark as I push some dirty laundry across the floor with the side of my shoe.
‘It’s really not shocking that he’s single,’ Lanner replies.
‘No sign of those diary pages though. We’ll have a team comb through here and see if there are any signs that Layla was ever in this apartment, but I suspect that she wasn’t.’
‘Kinnon is pretty screwed either way.’
‘That’s for sure. Chief already pulled him off the case and he’ll be suspended while Internal Affairs looks into this mess.’
‘Let’s get out of here,’ Lanner suggests and I’m more than happy to follow suit.
We make our way back to the station, and as soon as I step inside, Chief McFadden calls me into his office.
‘This investigation is turning into a complete circus,’ he remarks before I even have a chance to close the door behind me.
‘I know, Sir. I had no idea what Kinnon was up to.’
‘Internal Affairs will be dealing with him. But this is an utter humiliation for this office, Barnes. The press is going to have a field day with it. We need to make an arrest as soon as possible so that we don’t look like complete buffoons.’
‘Understood, Chief.’
The pressure is on.
Chapter 39
Vince
DAY 10
My knuckles are raw where they collided with skin and bone. I shudder at the thought of what I’d nearly done, of the level of rage I’m capable of. I never knew that I had it inside of me, bubbling and brewing beneath the surface. I nearly killed a man today. Had I not heard him shout that he was a cop … I’m not sure I ever would have stopped hitting him, not until he was a bloody pulp beneath my hands.
Nicole brings me an ice pack and lays it gently over my swollen hand.
‘Thank you for coming when I called,’ she says gently.
‘You don’t need to thank me for that. I’ll always be here for you, Nicole. Always.’
She nods as she sits down next to me before casting her eyes towards her lap. ‘I just don’t know where we go from here.’
‘I don’t either. But I want to figure it out. Together.’ I lay my good hand over hers. Her small, familiar hand beneath mine feels like home.
She hesitates a moment before pulling her hand back into her lap. ‘I do too. But it’s going to take some time for me to get there. I never wanted things to turn out this way, but I don’t know how to trust you anymore.’
I choke back the emotion welling up in my throat. I don’t blame her for losing faith in me, but it stings to hear her words nonetheless.
‘Can you stay? Just for tonight?’ she asks. ‘I don’t want to be alone in this house right now.’
‘Of course.’ It’s a start. At least she still feels safer with me around. And being here, under the same roof as Nicole, gives me hope that there’s still a chance for us yet.
‘I guess having all of these spare bedrooms will finally come in handy,’ she says.
She must have seen the spark of hope ignite and needed to manage my expectation of a fire. She may be ready to share a roof, but not a bed. ‘Right. I’ll go put some of my things into one of the guest rooms then.’
She nods and leaves me to it.
I walk upstairs to the master bedroom and take the pillows from my side of the bed.
I miss this room, sharing it with my wife. It’s painted a bright white and our fluffy white duvet is tucked neatly over the bed. Floaty white curtains frame a picture window that looks out over the glittering pool and into the woods beyond. The only splash of color in the room comes from a painting of blue poppies which hangs on the wall above the bed. I smile as I recall the day I bought that painting.
After I rented my first KitzTech office space, above the art gallery where Nicole worked, I was looking for any excuse to see her again. I knew she was far out of my league, and I was too shy to simply walk up to her and ask her on a date, so when I saw a flyer for an art exhibition to be held at the gallery downstairs, I immediately knew I’d be attending. I put on my best suit that evening and walked into the gallery as nervous as a child on the first day of school. I immediately spotted Nicole chatting to another attendee. She was smiling brightly, a mouth full of perfect white teeth, and her eyes were dazzling even from across the room. I took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and quickly knocked it back. I thought I saw Nicole looking over in my direction and I didn’t want to appear as out of place as I felt, and so I nervously busied myself looking at a painting of some bright blue flowers resting in a glass vase. I knew nothing about art, I still don’t truthfully, but that particular painting caught my eye. It was lovely in its simplicity, and the blue of the flowers reminded me of Nicole’s incredible eyes.
‘It’s exquisite, isn’t it?’ Nicole asked, materializing at my side.
‘It is.’
‘They’re Himalayan blue poppies. One of my favorite kinds of flowers.’
‘I’d like to buy it.’ I blurted out. I had no idea how much the painting was going to cost me, or how I was going to pay for it, but I knew that I had to have it – that it would always remind me of Nicole, and that I someday hoped to share it with her.
Nicole seemed surprised. ‘Oh, I didn’t realize you were a collector.’
‘I’m not,’ I admitted. ‘I don’t know much about art at all, to be honest. I just find this particular painting to be beautiful.’
‘That’s so refreshing. That really is the purpose of art, isn’t it? To bring something beautiful into our lives? I think many people have lost that perspective in the scrambling to possess it.’
Eight hundred dollars later, I was walking out of the gallery with this painting I could barely afford and Nicole’s phone number. It would still take weeks for me to work up the courage to ask her out on a proper date, and a month more still for her to agree to go out with me, but this painting is where it all began.
I shake off the memory of happier times as I walk out of the bedroom we once shared with my pillow tucked under my arm. I toss it into the nearest nondescript guest room before heading back downstairs.
When I reach the kitchen, I see Nicole out by the pool, her feet swishing in the water, rippling its glassy surface.
Maybe I’ll bring us some lunch. Maybe we can have a moment of normalcy before I tell her about the Shannon thing. She’ll see that I’m not the person the papers are making me out to be, she knows I’m not.
I open the refrigerator and pull out some leftover sandwiches wrapped in shiny foil, a bowl of hummus, and some fresh vegetables. Yes, I can envision it now. We’ll sit down for lunch, just as we always do, and then I’ll calmly and rationally explain what happened with Shannon all those years ago, how it’s all been twisted and distorted to look like
something it never was. Nicole will understand. She has to.
My mouth is watering as I collect the food and my stomach rumbles in anticipation. I haven’t eaten a real meal in days.
I grab the platter of food, and some plates and silverware, and I bring them out to the patio. The pool is shimmering under the scorching sunlight, the cool water luring me to its edge, begging me to dive in. Maybe if lunch goes well, we might even go for a swim afterwards. I smile to myself. Yes, there may be hope for Nicole and I yet. I won’t give up on us.
Nicole turns around and rises from her seat by the pool.
She looks at the meal I’ve brought us, at the places I’ve begun setting at the table, and I see the corners of her mouth fall.
‘Vince, I don’t know what all of this is about but—’
‘It’s about lunch. I thought maybe we could eat, talk. Have a start at setting things right between us.’
‘Look, I appreciate what you did earlier with that … man. But just because I need you here tonight doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.’ There is no anger in her voice anymore. There is no more fight left in her, only hurt, only the hollow sound of a broken woman. ‘What I read in World View yesterday, about that girl, Vince, that’s unforgivable.’
‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about!’ I feel the words falling out of my mouth, a desperate jumble. ‘I can explain—’
‘Right, Vince. I know. You can always explain. You’re never to blame. Everyone is lying except you, right?’ Her words are barbed with sarcasm. ‘But the thing is, Vince, I don’t even know when you’re lying anymore. I used to be able to tell, know you. You couldn’t even get away with telling me you got caught in traffic when you’d come home late. I always knew when you’d really just lost track of time and forgotten to leave your office on time. But now, now, I find out that I never really knew you at all.’ She hugs her arms around herself. ‘That last article, it changed everything.’
‘This is all wrong. Nothing ever happened between me and that girl back then. Her parents thought it did, and they made me out to be some sort of predator and—’
The Guilty Husband Page 20