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Blaire could see that Kate was doing her utmost to appear calm, the only outward sign of anxiety the constant thrumming of her fingertips against each other as they sat in the living room, waiting for Anderson.
“They think I sent that email to myself, don’t they? I didn’t. You believe me, don’t you? You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?” Kate was sitting ramrod straight in the chair, now absently rubbing her hands together.
Blaire decided to take a middle road. “Of course you’re not crazy. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
Kate looked dubious. She had a perpetually gaunt and haunted look these days. She wasn’t eating, existing on coffee and Valium. Blaire watched Kate push the food around on her plate, never bringing it to her mouth.
“I’m really, really sure it wasn’t me. It wasn’t, was it?” Kate pleaded. “How could they have traced the IP address to here?” She brought her hands up to her face, crying softly.
It didn’t matter how many assurances Blaire might try to give her—Kate was clearly second-guessing herself, believing she might actually have sent the email. Blaire was anxious for the police to arrive. She wondered if they would be able to put Kate’s mind at ease and finally figure this out.
When they heard the sound of the doorbell, Kate stood, wiping the tears from her face.
Brian ushered Anderson into the room. There was another man with him, one Blaire hadn’t seen before, though she assumed he was a colleague.
Anderson took off his hat and nodded at them. “Dr. English, Ms. Barrington.” He indicated the man who had come in with him. “This is Detective Reagan. He’s with our technical unit.”
“Hello,” Kate said, and looked expectantly at him. “Are you sure this is where that email came from?”
“There’s no mistake, ma’am,” he said. “Your home is the location of the IP address.”
She turned to Anderson. “I didn’t send it, though.”
“We know that.”
Blaire saw a look of surprised relief cross Kate’s face and waited to hear what Anderson was going to say next.
“The sender’s email address was not yours,” Reagan said.
“But––” Kate began.
“The sender’s address was K English one three four at gmail dot com. You must have glossed over the numeral one when you looked at the address.”
Kate scrambled to get her laptop from the side table and open it. “Yes, yes. You’re right. It’s not my address.”
“Who does the account belong to?” Blaire asked him.
Anderson turned to Reagan, who said, “It’s been deactivated. There’s no way to definitively know.”
“We need to find the device from which the email was sent. It’s here. Somewhere in your house,” Anderson said.
“But how is that possible?” Kate asked. “You see everything outgoing and incoming from our phones and computers. How can it be coming from my house?” She still had that wild-eyed look on her face.
“We’ve only been monitoring the devices you gave us permission to monitor, Dr. English. Any other smartphones, tablets, or laptops that were used here would use your IP address but not be monitored.”
It was the first time Blaire had heard such patience in his voice. She hoped he was going to start in Simon’s office. It was all she could do not to open her mouth and suggest it.
“Well,” Kate said, seeming to have regained some equilibrium. “Where do you want to start?”
Anderson gave her a curt nod and stood. “Your husband’s office.”
As they left the room, the two men slid gloves on, and the two women trailed behind them.
Simon’s desk was a light wood––maple, Blaire guessed––and completely clear of paperwork. There were two silver-framed photos resting on it––a portrait of Kate looking beautiful, and a picture of Kate, Simon, and Annabelle together.
Anderson moved behind the desk. “Do we have your permission to search these premises, Dr. English?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” she said, her voice wobbly.
Anderson began with the desk, opening drawer after drawer. Blaire and Kate watched as Anderson picked up a globe from its stand, examining it as he turned it around and around.
“Does your husband have a safe?” he asked.
“Yes, in our bedroom. You can check it, but I just put my wedding ring in last night. There’s only jewelry in there.”
“We’ll check that later. Let’s finish in here first,” he said to Reagan.
Anderson walked the perimeter of the room, checking behind each painting and award hanging on the wall. He turned to Reagan. “Let’s check the bookshelves.”
The two of them began to search the shelves behind Simon’s desk while Blaire and Kate stood in hushed anticipation. The rows of books went almost to the ceiling, and it looked as if Anderson and Reagan were going to open every single one. This could take forever.
“Why don’t we sit down,” Blaire said to Kate. “They might be a while.”
Kate sat, but she couldn’t seem to stop her foot tapping anxiously. She had that faraway look again. Reagan was on the step stool, pulling books from the next to the last shelf, when suddenly he stopped and handed one to Anderson. Blaire and Kate stood, craning to see what he held. It wasn’t a book at all—it was a leather box that looked like a copy of Moby-Dick. He stared at the contents and exchanged a look with Reagan, who came down from the ladder.
“What is it?” Kate asked, moving closer to him.
The corners of his mouth turned down, and he shook his head as he held the box out for them to see. Inside was a black smartphone. Nestled beside it was a plastic baggie—containing a gleaming diamond bracelet.
Blaire heard a sharp intake of breath. “Dear God, it’s my mother’s bracelet,” Kate said, just before she hit the floor.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
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Kate felt a dull pounding in her head and opened her eyes to see Blaire hovering over her. “What happened?”
“You fainted.”
It took a moment before everything came rushing back. Simon. The phone. Her mother’s bracelet. She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness made her fall back against the pillow and close her eyes.
“Dr. English?” Detective Anderson’s deep voice jarred her. She opened her eyes and pushed herself to a sitting position. She felt as though she were seeing and hearing everything in slow motion.
“Here you go.” Blaire held out a bottle of water. “This might help.”
Kate took a small sip and then handed the bottle back to Blaire. She felt like she was going to throw up. Even though she’d wondered about Simon—his fidelity and his guilt regarding the threats and her mother—she was still utterly shocked when confronted with the hard evidence. How could she have lived with him all those years, and not known he was capable of murder and psychological warfare? She couldn’t grasp it.
She needed answers, something to make sense of this. What kind of a monster kills his mother-in-law and plots against the mother of his child? If he’d wanted out that badly, she’d have given him a divorce. She’d been have been generous with the settlement, despite the prenup. Another thought occurred to her, and she felt seized by panic. What if one of the security people had been helping him? She could still be in danger.
She looked up at Blaire. “Get rid of the security team. Simon hired them—I don’t feel safe with them around.”
“I don’t think you want be without protection until he’s been arrested,” Blaire said. “There’s a firm we use for crowd control at events when we tour. Do you want me to call them?”
Kate nodded, then ran her hands through her hair, her eyes closed.
“Dr. English?” Detective Anderson called to her.
Kate and Blaire looked up at the same time.
“We’ve found something else.” He cleared his throat. “Rat poison.”
Kate doubled over, the wind knocked out of her. Every new revelation felt like a fresh assault. He’d planned to poison her. She remembered the funny-tasting coffee and wondered if he’d already started.
Blaire went to Kate, putting an arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kate. I’m so sorry.”
Kate slumped back onto the chair.
Detective Anderson tapped the smartphone. “All the texts and the emails came from this phone.”
“He really wanted to kill me. Does he hate me so much that he also had to torture and taunt me?”
“Obviously he wanted it to look like someone else was doing it, or to make you seem like you were crazy,” Blaire said. She looked at Detective Anderson. “One thing I don’t understand is why Simon would use a similar Gmail address. Wouldn’t it be more effective to make Kate look bad if he’d used her own?”
Kate shook her head. “He doesn’t know any of my passwords.” Something odd had occurred to her, though. “My husband isn’t here. How did he send the email, if the phone was here?”
“It looks like this email was scheduled,” Detective Reagan said. “He could have set it up days ago.”
“Simon must have forgotten to take the phone with him when your dad made him leave,” Blaire said. “That’s why it wasn’t turned off this time.”
“Lucky break,” Anderson said.
By the time Harrison arrived, Reagan had left, and only Anderson remained.
“Kate, what’s happened?”
“Sit down, Dad,” she said.
“What’s going on?” Harrison asked, continuing to stand.
“They found Mother’s bracelet.”
“Found it where?” he demanded.
“Right here, hidden in Simon’s shelves.” She began to cry, her shoulders shaking. “I’m so sorry I brought him into our lives, Dad. Mother would still be alive if I hadn’t . . .”
He stood, perplexed, as if she were speaking a foreign language. “Are you saying that Simon killed your mother?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly her father roared to life, his eyes blazing. “I’ll kill the son of a bitch. I’ll kill him with my bare hands.” He was ranting, saying things she couldn’t decipher, his face red and spittle spewing from his lips.
Kate understood his fury, but the force of it frightened her nonetheless. She feared he was going to go into cardiac arrest.
Detective Anderson went to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, take it easy. Nothing is certain yet. I’ll take the evidence, and we’ll see what they come up with.” He turned to Kate. “Is Simon at his office now?”
Blaire answered for her. “Supposedly.”
The thought of facing her husband filled Kate with dread, as did the thought of everything that was about to unfold, ripping their lives further apart.
Anderson pressed his lips together and sighed. “We’ll go and arrest him now. You should probably call your attorney.”
“Attorney? Why would we get him an attorney?” her father asked. “He can rot in hell.”
“OK, I’ll be in touch,” Anderson said, and was out the door.
Kate turned to her father. It was painful to see his earlier rage turn back to suffering, to see the misery in his eyes.
He took her hand in his and stared beyond her, a vacant look in his eyes. “Why? Why?” he kept repeating. “It doesn’t make sense.” He looked at Kate. “At least we know. And now you’ll be safe.” He pulled Kate into his arms.
That was small consolation, she thought.
The following morning, Kate stood just inside the front door and waved goodbye to Annabelle as Harrison drove away with her. Though the police had arrested Simon last night, she was still a nervous wreck, and they’d all agreed it would be better for Annabelle to have some time away with her grandfather. He was taking her to the beach house—a place of tranquillity and peace in the off-season. The house was quiet without all the security around; Blaire had gotten rid of them right after Anderson had left. The team that Blaire used on tours was coming later that day. She and Kate wanted to be sure that if Simon hadn’t been acting alone, she’d still be safe.
Kate had spoken to Detective Anderson earlier that morning, and he’d told her that Simon had hired an attorney. Kate had already contacted her lawyer and filled him in. There was no way she’d contribute to the defense of the person who’d taken her mother from her.
Her eyes were swollen from crying, and her head was fuzzy from the Valium she’d taken earlier as she paced the downstairs, going from room to room, straightening a picture, moving a magazine, anything to keep herself from going crazy.
Blaire popped into the living room. “How’re you holding up?”
Kate shook her head. “I don’t know. All I do is rehash everything in my head until I think I’ll go crazy.”
Blaire brought a mug over to her. “Here, I made you some tea. Let’s sit.”
Kate took it from her. “Thanks. Ugh, the house is so empty without Annabelle. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Dad take her to the beach. What if they have a car accident?” She jumped up, panic-stricken. “I’m going to call him. I don’t want her that far away.”
“It’s okay. They’ll be fine. Don’t call while they’re on the road. You’ll distract him.”
Kate took a deep breath. Blaire was right. She could cause him to have an accident. It’d be better to call him later.
“You haven’t eaten since yesterday. Let me get you something.”
Kate waved her hand. “No, not hungry.”
“Kate—toast, something. You’re going to get sick. Annabelle needs a strong mother.”
Kate relented. “Just a half piece.”
“Be right back. Drink your tea.”
Kate took a few sips and leaned back against the sofa. Why was her heart still beating so furiously? Simon had been arrested. They had her mother’s killer. She was safe now. She imagined Simon in handcuffs, professing his innocence while being dragged away. She’d wanted to go, to be there watching behind the two-way glass as he was questioned, but Detective Anderson had told her it was a bad idea. And in the end, she had to agree.
Blaire came back a few minutes later. “Here you go.” She handed Kate a plate with a piece of toast cut in half and covered in jam.
“Thanks.” Kate took a small bite and felt her stomach turn with nausea. Putting the plate next to her, she took another sip of tea. “Mmm, this is good. Peppermint?”
Blaire smiled. “Yes, I remember how much you always loved it. I’m still a die-hard coffee drinker.” She stretched and yawned. “So what should we do today? Now that you don’t have to be a prisoner in your house any longer, we should celebrate.”
Kate arched a brow. “I don’t know if finding out my husband is a killer is a reason to celebrate.”
“Of course not, that’s not what I meant. Don’t you want to get out of here, though? Even just walk around the mall. Something.”
The idea of being able to do whatever she wanted without worrying about being watched was a liberating thought. “Actually, that’s a great idea. I’d love to go to a bookstore and just wander around.”
Blaire stood. “You won’t get any objections from me.” She smiled at Kate again. “Let’s go.”
Kate held a finger up. “Do you think they’ve gotten to the beach yet? I want to connect with them before we leave.”
“Give it another half hour.” Blaire sat back down. “It’s been ages since I’ve been to the beach house. Probably looks completely different now.”
“Not too much. We’ve updated some of it. The rooms are pretty much the same. Annabelle has my room now. Still has the mermaids. Mother never did get around to changing that. But Annabelle loves it.”
“What about my room?” Blaire asked, an edge to her voice.
Kate was taken aback. “Oh, um, Simon uses that as his office.”
“Of course he does.”<
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Kate gave her a confused look. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing, I just meant that he takes whatever he wants with no regard to anyone else.” She leaned back in the chair across from Kate. “Well, he’s out of your life now. I’m just relieved we found out the truth before he could have hurt you or Annabelle.”
Kate swallowed. She hadn’t considered that he could be actually be a threat to his own daughter. She was still trying to figure out why he’d killed her mother. “I don’t get it. Do you think he killed Mother as a cover-up? So that he could kill me, and the police would attribute everything to some crazed psycho?” Kate swirled her spoon around the mug, lifting the tag bag up and down unconsciously.
Blaire gave her a sympathetic look. “Yeah, I do. I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ve been waiting until you were strong enough to tell you what I found out. Carter told me your mother did call Simon. Sabrina and he were supposed to go on a business trip to New York, but he made her stay behind after speaking to your mother. Lily must have tried to talk some sense into him. Obviously he didn’t appreciate that. I think he and Sabrina planned this whole thing. I mean, he knew all about your anxiety. How to push your buttons. And what kind of sick bastard tortures innocent animals? I mean, seriously, killing those poor parakeets and painting them black. That’s beyond sick.”
Kate’s head snapped up. What had Blaire just said?
“Why don’t you try your dad now? Then we can get out of here.”
“Okay.” Kate pulled out her cell phone and tried him. It rang four times before going to voice mail. “No answer. Maybe they hit some traffic.” She was still thinking about Blaire’s words from a moment before.
“Why don’t we get going now? You can try them again from the car,” Blaire said. “I’ll drive.”
Kate was still thinking about the birds. How did Blaire know the birds were parakeets, and that they’d been spray-painted? Kate had never told her that, had she? She was sure she’d only said they were black birds.
“Um, you know what? I’ve got a splitting headache. I think I need to just rest a little before we go out. Do you mind terribly running over to CVS and picking up some Tylenol for me? I’ve run out.”
The Last Time I Saw You Page 22