by Dana Feldman
“No,” she says, at first. “I, I don’t know. But I’ll be in the meeting. Ok? Whatever it is, we’ll get you through it.”
I agree to the meeting and then walk back into the bedroom where Peter is still sleeping. I’m beginning to panic. I’m going through everything in my head. We disposed of the bodies and all evidence. We were so far out in the ocean that I’m positive that nothing could’ve surfaced. We weighed everything down and wiped the entire boat clean of any DNA. We might have missed something. It just takes one partial fingerprint, and it’s all over for us.
Chris has always told me that our pasts always catch up to us. Whenever I’ve tried to forget mine or escape from it, he’s always been the one to keep me on track, never allowing me to push things away without dealing with them.
Peter rolls over, now facing me, and opens his eyes slowly. A wry smile crosses his face. He looks so sexy when he first wakes up. His hand is slowly running up my thigh as I sit beside him on the bed.
“Not now,” I say, holding and stopping it from going any further. “I just got a call from Evelyn,” I tell him.
The look on my face is all he needs to see to know that it’s serious.
“And?”
“They finally found the boat. I need to go downtown this afternoon to meet with her and the two officers that I spoke with the night everything first happened. They’d actually interviewed me while I was in the hospital, and it didn’t seem at the time that they believed much of what I had to say.”
He sits up, now fully awake. His fingers are running through my hair gently. He leans up and kisses my forehead.
“I’ll come with you,” he says, starting to get up to get dressed.
“No, I’ll be fine. And it might look odd. Being with Gabe’s son. I mean you have to admit how awkward that might be.”
He agrees. I lean forward and kiss him. I want to be with him right now. I need to feel him. I have no idea what’s going to happen this afternoon, what they know. The fact that Evelyn doesn’t know either is the part that frightens me the most.
The truth of the matter is that I have no idea if I’ll be coming back here afterwards. I’m now kissing him with such a passion and fury that he stops me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Ella, they don’t have anything on you. There’s no way.”
“Evelyn doesn’t even know what this meeting is all about.”
“Trust me. They don’t have anything on you. I made sure of that.”
“It’s the boat I used to own with my husband. I’m the common denominator here. Don’t you see?”
“Without evidence, they can’t do anything to you.”
Now straddling him, I lean down and kiss him again. “I don’t know if I’ll be coming back to you.”
He rolls us over so that he’s now on top of me. Both of his hands cup my face, and he leans down and kisses me gently. “You’re coming home to me. I promise,” he says, and then makes love to me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
COMMON DENOMINATOR
I arrive a few minutes early so that Evelyn and I can speak privately before we meet with Adams and Thomas. I’m nervous but she immediately tells me to calm down.
“You have to relax, Ella. They won’t have anything on you because you’re innocent.”
She looks at me with such certainty that my feelings of guilt for lying to her are too much for me to handle. She pulls me into her office and closes the door behind us. I watch as she walks over to the window partition that separates her office from the main hallway and closes the blinds tightly.
“If there’s anything that you want to tell me, now’s the time,” she warns.
I remind myself that the less she knows the better off she is. I’m doing this not only to protect Peter and myself. I’m protecting Evelyn, as well.
“There’s nothing. I just can’t take any more surprises.”
“I know. You’ve been to hell and back. But it’s almost over. I think they just want to ask you a few questions, clear a few things up, and then hopefully, case closed.”
“Case closed?”
“Yes, well we found the boat. I believe that Gabe is dead at this point. Let me clarify, any doubt that he was still alive somewhere, has pretty much evaporated. They know about him. I think this meeting is really just about tying up loose ends.”
“So you’re saying that they never believed that he was dead before?”
“No, Ella. Apparently Gabe’s past had been closing in around him for some time now. At first, you were suspected of killing him, but as certain facts came to the surface, you were removed from the suspect list.”
“Why wasn’t I informed of this?” I ask, not bothering to hide the anger in my voice.
“To be honest, I didn’t find out everything until very recently, and you were much safer not knowing. We’re friends but there are still certain things that I cannot share with you. I hope that you understand.”
I nod my head. Of course I do.
“So, we’re good then?” she asks.
Before I can respond, there’s a knock on her office door.
“Come in,” she yells, and the door swings open. Standing on the other side are the two men that had questioned me so long ago.
Their facial expressions are stern, cold. After exchanging a few fake pleasantries I follow them all into an interrogation room just down the hall. It’s cold, impersonal, and I immediately notice the tiny red light flashing on the camera just above us.
Evelyn follows my gaze. “You’re recording this? Really?” she asks, sounding surprised.
“Yes,” Detective Adams says. The fluorescent lights above us shine off his forehead. I decide to focus on this as it temporarily distracts me just enough to take an edge off my nerves. “It’s standard,” he addresses Evelyn, while looking at me.
I don’t react, not even a flinch. I’m suddenly cool as a cucumber. I hear Peter talking to me, promising that he’s taken care of everything. He’s protected me. I’m going home after this.
Sergeant Thomas sits, as before, not saying much, just observing. A slight nod of the head is all I’ve gotten from him thus far.
“I’m sure that you’re already well aware that we’ve recovered your boat,” Adams starts.
“Yes. Gabe’s boat,” I correct him. “Detective Milner called me this morning to let me know. Where was it again?”
He raises an arched eyebrow at me.
“I apologize but there’s just been so much going on as I’m sure that you can understand.”
“Docked at Catalina Island,” he says, his irritation not lost on me. “As you already know, this boat was sold at auction soon after your husband’s death, disappearance.”
I think he’s trying to confuse me, trick me into saying something. I keep my mouth shut. He always thought that I’d killed my husband. Though he was wrong at the time, he’s somewhat correct now. I was there anyway. I’m very careful to keep what I say to a minimum.
“And until recently, we weren’t able to trace the buyer.”
“Eddie McDonald, correct?” Evelyn asks.
“Yes. Though the funds that were used in the purchase of the boat came from an overseas bank account that’s linked with an undercover intelligence operation that folded years ago.”
Both men stare at me, waiting for me to say something. I keep my outward demeanor as cool as possible.
“I don’t understand,” I say, and am shocked at how genuinely confused I sound.
“Detective Milner, care to explain?” Adams suggests, again addressing her but staring at me.
“Yes, of course,” she begins, and shifts in her chair to directly face me. “There’s a small group of individuals affiliated with an undercover intelligence operation that went bust years ago. This group was accused of committing various acts of murder, among other things, as hired guns by the U.S. government. They were clean-up guys so to speak. We believe that Gabe was involved.”
“Are you at all aware of
this?” Sergeant Thomas asks, finally joining the conversation.
“No, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I reply. Evelyn and I are both playing our roles to perfection. She’s often discussed with me how bullied she’s been by various members of law enforcement, and I’m assuming that these two are among the group she’s referred to.
“Did you never notice that your husband was gone for long periods of time that you couldn’t account for?” Adams asks.
“No. I mean he traveled for work, but he always explained that when he went out of town for business, that it was to visit a client or meet with a potential new one. I trusted my husband, at the time I had no reason not to.”
“Did he ever take calls and leave the room suddenly? Or have last-minute meetings that he had to attend?”
I stop and think for a moment. I need to think carefully before I answer. I don’t want to look like an idiot here.
“Come to think of it, yes, there were times that he’d receive a call, and he’d get up and leave the room to take it. I never really thought much of it. Well, I actually at one point in time thought that he might be having an affair.”
“Did you confront him about that?” Thomas interjects.
“Yes, and we got into an awful fight. He swore there was no one else, that it was just business. I learned not to question him.”
“What would happen to you when you questioned your husband?” Evelyn asks, and I know why she’s bringing this up.
“Let’s just say I have a low pain tolerance and leave it at that.”
“We can’t leave it at that, Mrs. Griffin,” Adams replies. I get a chill when he refers to me that way.
“My husband had a hot temper. We’ve discussed all of this before. He beat the shit out of me more than once. I learned not to question him. Is that a clear enough answer for you?”
This works and I’m now free from answering any further questions about my husband’s whereabouts. They understand that when he took sudden meetings or phone calls I knew better than to ask him about them.
“Was anything of interest found on the boat? DNA?” Evelyn asks.
“No.” Adams answers. He looks somewhat defeated. “Oh, actually yes.”
My heart stops beating for a moment or two. I’m not breathing.
“There was one partial palm print, but it’s not enough to get a match.”
I’m relieved momentarily. And then Adams changes the subject.
“You’ve been seeing a therapist, correct?”
“Yes, well I was. I stopped.”
“When did you stop, Mrs. Griffin?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Why? It looks like you were seeing him twice a week for almost a year.”
“I just felt that our therapy had run its course.”
He doesn’t respond. He just stares at me and leans back in his chair. He’s going to stare at me and let me continue to talk.
“You know, I wasn’t getting anything from it anymore. I felt that I’d resolved all of my issues.”
“And when was the last time that you spoke to this,” he shuffles through his papers, “Dr. John Bryer?”
“I’m not sure exactly. I believe that it’s been a few weeks.”
“About two, right?”
“I really don’t remember an exact date,” I say, not allowing him to catch me in his net.
“Let’s go with two. Shall we?”
“Ok,” I say. I can see Evelyn in my periphery looking at me.
“Are you aware that Dr. Bryer hasn’t been seen or heard from in the last two weeks?”
“No,” I say. “Though that would explain a few things.” My newfound ability to lie through my teeth is shocking.
“Such as?” Adams asks, now leaning forward in his chair as he stares straight at me, waiting for me to slip up.
“Well, for one, I’ve called him several times and he hasn’t responded. I found this odd because we’d parted ways on such good terms. I’d grown rather fond of the man, even considered him a friend. He’d helped me through so much.”
“And two?”
“Well, I’d stopped by his office. He wasn’t there. I’d been calling to thank him for all that he’d done for me. You can check my cell phone records if you need to corroborate what I’m saying.”
All the times that Peter had told me to call Bryer and leave voicemail messages for him I had argued with him, wondered what the point was. I now see his brilliance. He’s an even better liar than I. I spot Adams as he winces and realize that he wasn’t expecting me to stand up so well under pressure. I certainly hadn’t the last time. I wasn’t prepared then. And I didn’t have Peter.
“I do hope that he’s all right,” I add with such conviction that even Evelyn relaxes a bit. When he fails to respond, I see a way out of here. “Is there anything else Detective Adams? Sergeant Thomas?”
“Well, actually, yes. Dr. Bryer has also been linked to the same intelligence operation. He apparently worked with your husband,” Adams says, sliding a manila envelope across the table towards me.
I grab it and open it, revealing its contents. It’s the report on me that Bryer had told me about. I start to read it and the picture it paints of me is quite awful. Severely depressed, suffers from acute anxiety disorder, has an addiction to sleeping pills, vacillates between suicidal and homicidal tendencies, and the biggest dagger of them all, that I’d supposedly admitted during a therapy session with him that I’d murdered my husband, Gabe Griffin, in a fit of rage when he’d threatened to divorce me.
I slide the report over to Evelyn and watch as her eyes widen as she reads it over. I hadn’t told her anything about this for obvious reasons.
“I can see how this looks,” I begin, “but with their ties to crime, I don’t see how this report can be taken with anything more than a grain of salt.”
“Dr. Bryer was a licensed psychotherapist with the knowledge to write such a report, Mrs. Griffin,” Thomas chimes in.
“With ties to a group that murder people, Sergeant,” Evelyn says, with a sternness I’ve never before heard in her voice. She is, for the first time that I’ve seen, standing up to her colleagues in a way that puts both of them on the defense. “He’s had numerous aliases and broken most of the laws in the books. If you’re actually planning on using this report against her, I’ll have to report this to the higher-ups, start an internal investigation.”
As she fingers through the pages she laughs out loud. “It also says here that she committed suicide as a result of the guilt she suffered. Does she look dead to you?”
They look at one another dumbfounded.
“Again, gentlemen, will there be anything else?”
“No, that’ll be all,” Adams says.
As we both get up to leave I’m hit with one final request and another innuendo from the detective who’s trying desperately to regain the upper hand.
“Oh, and Mrs. Griffin, you don’t happen to have any plans to leave town by chance? I mean you are the one common denominator in all of this.”
“No,” I say, walking towards the door. I turn around, “Why?”
“Just in case we have any further questions.”
“Of course. Well, I don’t have any plans to go anywhere.”
“Oh, and how is Gabe’s son, Peter? He’s staying with you isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. He’s having a hard time as you can imagine. The not knowing what happened to his father has been the hardest part for him,” I say coolly.
“Oh, you know there is one more thing,” Thomas says. He’s now also standing.
Damn, I was so close to getting the hell out of here. I smile at him and wait.
“We went down there, to Catalina, interviewed some of the folks. I was surprised at how many people either live there full-time or are regular visitors. Strangers tend to stick out like sore thumbs around there, especially during the off-season. Summertime, anyone can go down there and blend in, but not so much during the colder m
onths.”
I stand there and don’t say anything with the smile still on my face.
“Interesting really.”
“What is?” I ask finally, anything to break the blaring silence.
“A few of them locals, they were really surprisingly chatty.”
“Oh, yeah?” Now I know why he kept his mouth shut for so long. He was just waiting to spring this one on me.
“Yeah, I was just telling Adams here that four different people told me that they saw a man and a woman get off that very boat a few weeks back. And the two never returned.”
“That is very odd,” I say calmly. “Did anyone happen to get a good look?”
“Seems they were bundled up, even had knit caps on so they couldn’t tell me their hair color. But one guy said he never does forget a face. We sent our best sketch artist down a few hours ago. I guess we’ll find out sooner or later.”
“Good, please do keep me posted on what you find out,” I say, and head for the door.
Evelyn walks me out to my car. We don’t say anything until we get outside to the parking lot.
“Ella, seriously, you have to tell me what’s going on here,” she warns. “You can’t do this on your own. If you’re hiding anything from me, they’ll find it sooner rather than later.”
I hug her tightly and leave. I call Peter.
“Hey, babe,” he answers. “You on your way home?”
“Yes.”
“Told you so. I’m grilling up some steaks,” he says, sounding happy.
“We have a problem,” I tell him, and relay the conversation to him.
“Did you really think I’d leave any loose ends?” he asks, laughing.
“What do you mean?”
“Amazing what a few local drunks will do and say for a few grand.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Those sketches won’t look anything like us. Don’t you worry for one moment about it. Do you want your steak medium rare like usual?”
“Yes,” I reply, and try to fight it but it’s no use. The smile on my face is one I cannot deny. I’ve never felt so free, so alive, so loved.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
LINE OF FIRE