Married to a Stranger

by MacDonald, Patricia

  Joan colored slightly. “It was. It was the beginning of the end. I’m only telling you this because I understand that you don’t want to think the worst. But you need to understand the gravity of your situation. I don’t know what David Webster told you about his interrogation, but he refused to take a lie detector test. Even before he called the attorney.”

  Emma stared out at the cabin and the clearing. The river glinted silver through the trees. The green pines rustled in the breeze. It looked so peaceful and idyllic here in the autumn sunlight. But Emma knew better. She would not willingly enter that house again. She would be afraid to get out of this car if she and David were not accompanied by armed policemen. She shook her head. But something about being here again was weirdly reassuring. She could picture the assailant, the fury with which he attacked her. It was not David. It was someone who lived here in these woods. Someone who hid out here. They were looking in the wrong place.

  “Why would an innocent man refuse a lie detector test, Emma?”

  Emma turned her head and met her gaze. “There could be any number of explanations, and you know it. It’s a flawed tool. It’s not even admissible in court. Why are you so determined to blame this on my husband? While you and Chief Osmund try to parse every word we say, there is a maniac out there who has killed and will kill again. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  Joan Atkins looked at her squarely. “Emma, did your husband ever bring you out here before this incident occurred?”

  “No,” she said. “He hadn’t been out here in years.”

  “That’s what he told us too,” said Joan. “But it wasn’t true. He was out here just a short while ago.”

  Emma turned her head and glared at Joan. “No, he wasn’t.” She opened the passenger door of the car and climbed out. She slammed it shut behind her and leaned against the car, pulling the paisley shawl around her, crossing her arms over her chest. The trickle of breeze felt good against her skin. Joan Atkins got out of the car and came around to where she stood.

  “One of these Pineys who lives back here saw him. Talked to him even.”

  Emma’s heart was thumping in her chest. She could remember asking him, as they drove here after the wedding, when was the last time he’d visited here. And he had said years ago. Not for many years now. And then, in spite of herself, she suddenly remembered that frozen package of lasagna she had found in the cabin freezer with its August sell-by date. From the woods, Emma heard the sound of leaves crunching, branches crackling. David came strolling into view, talking to Chief Osmund, who was frowning.

  “So what if he was out here,” said Emma. “So what? Maybe…he just needed to get away for a day. And forgot to mention it.”

  “Or maybe he was formulating his plan.”

  “You don’t know any such thing,” she protested.

  “Don’t take my word for it,” said Joan. “Ask him.”

  15

  EMMA LOOKED from the lieutenant’s face to that of her husband.

  David had fixed Joan Atkins with an implacable stare. “We’ve cooperated with you people more than we should have,” he said. “We’re leaving now.”

  “Go ahead,” Joan said to Emma. “Ask him.”

  “Ask me what?” David said. He peered at Emma. “What are you supposed to ask me?”

  Joan gazed at him coolly. “When was the last time you were here at your uncle’s place?”

  “You know damn well,” said David. He shook his head. “My wife doesn’t need to go over this again. She wants to cooperate with you people, but she doesn’t need to relive this experience again.”

  “Before the day of the attack,” said Joan.

  David made a face. “I don’t know. I was…what…ten years old. I came down here with my aunt and uncle and a friend of mine.”

  “That doesn’t agree with our information.”

  “Maybe I was twelve,” David said. “So sue me.”

  “We have a witness who saw you here recently.”

  Emma watched him. His eyes blazed. “What witness?”

  “A reliable witness,” said Chief Osmund.

  “Well, that’s bullshit,” said David. “Come on, Emma.”

  “Did you forget to tell us about a more recent visit?” asked Audie.

  Emma felt her stomach turning over. She put her hand out to steady herself against the car.

  “All right. That’s it,” said David. “We are leaving. We should never have talked to you. You’re making this crap up and I have had enough. And my wife has clearly had enough.”

  Chief Osmund and Joan Atkins looked at each other.

  “Go ahead, Mr. Webster. We’ll be in touch.”

  Without another word, David opened the passenger door on the Jeep and boosted Emma up. She looked from Chief Osmund to Lieutenant Atkins. Atkins did not look at her but handed David the keys. David slammed the door. Then he walked around to the other side, climbed in, and put the key in the ignition. The two police officers watched them make a K-turn in the clearing and raise a cloud of leaves and dust as they headed off down the dirt road.

  David and Emma didn’t speak until they reached the highway. Finally, without looking at her, David said, “You should never have put me in that situation.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped.

  He did not reply. They were silent the rest of the way home. For once, Emma did not fall asleep in the car.

  IT WAS three o’clock by the time they returned to Clarenceville, and it had begun to rain. David came around to her door and offered her his hand.

  “Let me help you,” he said.

  “I don’t need any help,” she said.

  David sighed and let her make her own painful way out of the car and into the house. Once inside, David went directly to his office.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “Calling Yunger. He needs to know about this…mystery witness.”

  She followed him to the office door and saw him pick up his cell phone from the charger and punch in the number. Yunger was not at his office. David left him a message. “I have to speak to you. It’s urgent.” When he saw Emma standing in the doorway, he turned his back on her and spoke quietly.

  He replaced the phone and turned to look at her. Emma was studying him with a pained gaze. “All right. What is it?” he said.

  “Why did you lie to the police?”

  “Lie about what?”

  “About being at the cabin,” she said.

  David shook his head. “You’re beginning to sound like a cop.” He raised his hands in surrender. “All right,” he said. “Don’t believe me.”

  “You heard Detective Atkins,” Emma cried. “They have a witness.”

  “Emma, she’s making it up. She’s trying to turn you against me, and it’s working,” cried David.

  “She said it because she thinks you are lying.”

  David sighed and avoided her gaze. Finally he said, “Look, I am their only suspect. They are not doing anything to find the real killer. So they feed you these lies.”

  “All you have to do is tell the truth,” she said. “If you were there before, just say so. Why is that so difficult?”

  “Because I wasn’t,” he said. “Why do you believe them? Because they’re cops? Because cops never lie? They’re trying to frame me, and you’re letting them.”

  “Now it’s my fault?” she cried.

  “Why is my word not good enough for you? The so-called witness was obviously mistaken. They are only seeing what they want to see.”

  Emma frowned.

  David looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Can’t you take my word for it?” he asked. “You’re my wife. I love you. I need you to have faith in me. Is that so much to ask?”

  Emma heard a car door slam. She craned her neck to see out the window. “That was quick. It’s Yunger.”

  “You didn’t answer me,” he said.

  “You better go talk to your attorney,” she said.

&nbs
p; “Thanks a lot,” he said. He edged past her out the door of the office. Emma reddened and did not meet his gaze. She felt guilty about her stubbornness. What he said made sense. In a way. The witness could have been mistaken. And she owed him her trust. Emma heard the front door slam. She walked over to the desk and looked out the window. Yunger, a distinguished-looking bald man with black eyebrows, holding a briefcase, and David, were standing on the front walk, talking, their collars turned up against the drizzle.

  She sat down heavily in the desk chair, and her gaze fell on the handle to the desk drawer. Glancing out the window to make sure they were both still outside, she tugged at the handle.

  She expected resistance, but this time the drawer slid open smoothly. Since last night he’d unlocked it. She looked in at the contents. There was the usual assortment of junk one might find in a desk drawer. A stack of film cards. An address book. Paper clips and rubber bands and pencils. Nothing a person would lock away from view. At first she was relieved, and then she had a disquieting thought. If he had locked up something secret in there, he had now removed it. It wasn’t there anymore. He had disposed of it, or put it in a new hiding place. She opened his file cabinet, wondering if she would recognize whatever secret thing he had hidden if she saw it.

  And then she thought about what she was doing, and she sighed. What is the matter with you? Why must you think the worst of your husband? He loves you. You told him that you trusted him. You’re letting the suspicions of the police turn you into a doubting, harping wife who snoops through his things. It was probably just as he said. He’d locked it when they moved. To keep all this worthless junk from falling out. And when she called it to his attention, he unlocked it.

  She went to close the drawer. As she did her gaze fell on the key ring, which sat in the well of the desk drawer. She picked it up and looked at it. There was one key on the key ring, which had a plastic photo frame as its handle. On one side of the frame was a paper label that read GAR-DEN SHED. Inside the frame was a photo of her that David had taken. She was wearing a baseball cap and overalls and she was stacking lawn furniture in the shed. Her face was smudged with dirt, and she was smiling ruefully at him as he took her picture. Her expression seemed to say, put down the camera and help me with this. It was a cute picture, a sweet idea. He had framed the picture as a special way to remind him what the key was for. She started to smile, and then her smile faded.

  The front door opened and she heard their voices in the front hall. She closed the drawer and got up.

  “Have a seat,” she heard David say to Yunger. “You want a beer?”

  Yunger shook his head. “No. I’m going back to the office.”

  “I want you to meet my wife, Emma,” David said. “Let me see if she’s lying down. She had kind of a tough morning.”

  Emma walked out of the bedroom.

  “Hey, honey, I was just coming to get you,” said David. “This is Mr. Yunger. This is my wife, Emma.”

  “Hey, Emma. Call me Cal. Nice to meet you,” said Yunger, extending his hand.

  “You too,” said Emma, shaking it.

  “Listen,” said Cal Yunger, “I know you’ve been through an awful lot. Now they’re pulling phantom witnesses out of the air. I just told your husband outside. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. If they were so sure about this witness, they could have brought him to the funeral to identify your husband. Obviously, they didn’t do that, so my guess is that they’re not sure this I.D. is going to hold up. And we know it’s not going to hold up, because David wasn’t there in the first place.”

  “Will you excuse me?” said Emma. “I’m very tired.”

  “Oh sure,” said Yunger, looking slightly taken aback. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you all right, honey?” David asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just tired.”

  Before he could reply, she went back into their temporary bedroom, closed the door, and locked it behind her.

  16

  EMMA SAT DOWN on the desk chair. For a few moments, she sat there thinking. Then she picked up the phone on the desk.

  She dialed Stephanie at the middle school and got one of the secretaries in the office who said that Stephanie was out.

  “Did she go home?” Emma asked.

  “No. She went to Trenton for a meeting.”

  Emma thanked her and hung up.

  Where else could she go? she thought. She thought about calling Burke but immediately dismissed that idea as inappropriate. He was David’s friend and her boss. She didn’t want to drag him into this. She looked at the phone, thinking of her mother, wishing she could magically transport herself to Chicago and be taken care of, like a child.

  For a moment she felt guilty, remembering that her mother had tried to send someone to care for her—the nurse, Lizette—and Emma had effectively caused her to leave. But it wasn’t a nurse’s care she needed. She needed the care of someone she loved, someone she could trust. She thought she could even tolerate Rory’s company if it meant being with her mother, but she knew it was too much of a trip to make in her condition.

  All of a sudden, the phone rang. Emma picked it up. “Darling,” said Kay McLean, “I know you’re mad at me and I don’t blame you, but I just had to call you.”

  Her mother’s voice was like a soothing balm. “Mom, I was just thinking about you,” she said. “Really. Just this minute.”

  Kay chuckled. “Well, we’ve always had a little mother-daughter telepathy, haven’t we?

  Emma smiled, knowing it was true. “I guess we do.”

  “What’s the matter?” Kay asked. “How are you feeling? Did the nurse come? I know you told me not to interfere but…”

  “She was here,” Emma said carefully.

  “Was? Isn’t she still there? We hired her until further notice.”

  Emma sighed. “She…left. I guess she got a little peeved because I…left the house without telling her.”

  “Emma!” her mother cried. “She was supposed to be there to take care of you. To protect you.”

  “I know, Mom,” Emma said, not really wanting to discuss it. “And I appreciate it. Really, I do. I guess I’m just wishing I could come and be with you. Get away from here and…hide out for a few days.”

  “Really?” Kay said, a suspicious note in her voice. She covered it immediately. “Emma, that would be wonderful. Why don’t you do it? Oh, nothing would make me happier than to be able to take care of you.” Then she hesitated. “Honey, is anything wrong. I mean, has something else happened?”

  Emma shook her head. “No. Not really. I’m just feeling…stressed out.”

  “Well, you just get on the next plane, darling. Are you up to the trip?”

  “That’s just it,” said Emma. “I don’t think I am. My luggage. The airport. The security lines. The concourse. That long walk to the gate.”

  “You don’t have to walk. They have those trams. You know, the ones that beep to make you get out of the way,” Kay said eagerly.

  “I can’t do it. Not yet. It’s too much for me.”

  “Oh, Em,” Kay said. “Then let me come there.”

  “No. Better not,” Emma murmured.

  “I hate being this far away from you,” said Kay.

  Emma nodded, but tears filled her eyes, and she couldn’t speak.

  “Honey, listen to me,” said Kay. “If you need to get away, why don’t you go up to New York and visit Jessie? You can call a car service and have them take you right to her door.”

  “Mom, she’s on bed rest. She’s in no shape for company.”

  “Now, Emma, listen to me. I talk to Aurelia all the time. Jessie has all kinds of help. Her mother has made sure of it. She listens to her mother. And there’s lots of room in that apartment. She’s bored to death, stuck at home. You just call her and tell her you’re coming.”

  Emma thought of Jessie’s cheerful face and the warmth she always saw in her bright eyes. “Do you think I should?” Emma asked, fe
eling like a child again, looking to her mother for answers.

  “Yes, you absolutely should,” said Kay. “Do you want me to call her and arrange it, or will you do it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Emma.

  “Please, honey. It would be good for both of you.”

  “Okay,” said Emma. “I will. Thanks, Mom.”

  “Call me from Jessie’s,” Kay insisted, hanging up.

  Before she could change her mind, Emma punched in the number of her dear old friend and asked if she could visit. Jessie started peppering Emma with questions. “Listen,” said Emma, “I got your beautiful flowers in the hospital, and I know you want to know everything, but I just can’t talk right now. I promise I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

  Jessie reacted like the true friend she was. “How soon can you be here?”

  “I’ll be on the next train.”

  “Can’t wait,” Jessie said. “We’ll lie around together. You and me and our not-quite babies. It’ll be like one of our old sleepovers.”

  Emma did her best to sound enthused. Then she hung up the phone and sat, staring out the front window at the drizzling sky. Part of her wanted to just stretch out on the bed and pull a blanket over her. She was so weary that she felt like weeping. But there was a knot in her stomach, and she knew she would not sleep. Get up, she thought. Get out of here. Put two or three things in a bag. She couldn’t carry anything heavy. If she needed clothes, she and Jessie were about the same size. She knew her mother was probably right about calling the car service, but she couldn’t wait to get out of here. She would take the train. It was an easy trip by train in those big comfortable seats. Besides, she had always loved train rides. Resting her head against the windows, watching the landscape go by. None of the anxiety she associated with airports and planes.

  She went over to the closet, pulled a light, microfiber duffel bag out, and put it on the bed. Then she walked over to the closet and took a nightie and a burnt orange tunic top and stretchy black pants that she could comfortably wear over her bandages. She folded them into the bag. Then she unlocked the bedroom door and limped to the bathroom, where she took her toothbrush, a box of bandages, and her medication. Jessie would have everything else she would need.