Denies grabbing Rachel Sutton (see above re defensiveness). Doesn’t recall exact words but said something like she “needed to live a little before she locked that down.” He was changing clothes at time. Admitted it was “possible” he “prolonged the process to get a rise” out of Rachel, whom he found “cloying” and “immature.”
Other women may come forward. Prior infidelities during marriage (out-of-town hookups, Tinder one-night stands, etc.), but per Client, Lynch was only ongoing affair. “I thought I loved her. I can’t believe she’s doing this to me.”
Client believes it’s possible Lynch getting financial benefit from Oasis/Fisher in exchange for undermining him. But also thinks she is angry at him for feet-dragging on leaving the wife.
27
Four Days Later
I almost took a U-turn on the Saw Mill Parkway—literally, as in the middle of the highway. Listening to Spencer singing along to my playlist of early-aughts hip-hop—LL Cool J, Ludacris, Mary J. Blige—I realized how much I was going to miss him. There was a break in the metal barrier in the middle of the highway, those spots where the police wait for speed traps. I eyed it, thinking how easy it would be to just go back home.
But then I remembered how hard I had worked that morning to keep him busy—eat your breakfast, don’t forget the sunscreen, how many pairs of underwear did you pack?—in the hope that he wouldn’t have time to go online and see any possible breaking news about Jason’s case.
Olivia had called the night before to report that the moment Jason had warned me to expect was official. She had a source in the crime lab. The DNA on that woman’s clothing matched Jason’s. Of course it did. He had admitted to sleeping with her only days before the swab was taken. Every day felt like a new hammer dropped, but the pounding wasn’t going to stop. The DNA results would hit the news. Jason would be arrested. He would be charged. There would be a trial, then a result, one way or the other.
So I kept driving, hoping that somehow our world would feel normal again by the time camp was over.
Jason was on the phone in the kitchen when I made it back. He told whoever it was to hold on for a second and then walked over and hugged me. I let myself be held, knowing I should hate him more, but missing our son. Jason had wanted to come with us. I told him that I wanted Spencer to myself for the morning, but the truth was that Spencer didn’t want Jason to go. He knew it was his father’s fault he was being sent away.
Jason went back to his call, and I walked upstairs to our bedroom and closed the door. I looked at the Lisa Unger novel lying open on my nightstand. Susanna had given me one of her books more than a year ago, swearing I would love it. I never got around to reading it until I needed something to distract me from my actual life. Now I was on my third one.
But instead of picking up the book, the way I should have, I reached for my laptop. I pulled up the log-in page to NYU’s e-mail system and typed in Jason’s e-mail address, followed by his password. He didn’t know I had it, or at least I didn’t think so. I only knew it because he had been the one to get cable installed after we moved into the carriage house. I had called him at work to ask the password to upgrade our Internet speed after Spencer complained that we were living “like cavemen.”
Gretchen83
Even then, I must have already been jealous, because I had immediately asked him who Gretchen was. Turns out, it was his grandmother. And 83 was August 3, our wedding anniversary. Now I typed that number to finalize my invasion into his privacy. I had already read every message between him and that woman. Between him and anyone at Oasis. I searched for messages from Rachel, but found nothing. I opened random messages simply because they were to or from another woman. Since he’d confessed to the affair, snooping on my husband’s e-mails had become part of my daily ritual.
I heard footsteps on the stairs and quickly marked the open message—from someone named Melanie Upton, who apparently was the senior associate director of human resources at NYU, sending her number to Jason so they could discuss his question about his retirement account directly—as unread. I was closing my laptop when Jason walked in.
“So that was Olivia. She met with the DA who’s handling the case.”
I prepared myself for the blow. “Are they going to let you turn yourself in, or do I have to keep sitting here day in and day out, wondering when they’re going to barge in with handcuffs?”
“You think you’re the one in limbo? How do you think I feel, Angela? My colleagues and students are calling me a rapist. Meanwhile, I keep showing up at school so the university doesn’t have an excuse to stop paying me and revoke my tenure. Zack is going to have to cover the podcast for now so we don’t lose advertisers, but that’s a temporary fix. Clients are calling, asking what’s going on. I’m numb. And I’m terrified.”
I didn’t bother reminding him that NYU had asked him to take a leave of absence—with pay—for the sake of reducing the “disruption” on campus. Jason’s response had been to threaten to sue if they made any changes to his status when he hadn’t even been charged with a crime, let alone convicted. He continued to insist that the only way to show he was innocent was to pretend as if everything were normal. Who was I to argue? I had spent the last twelve years putting one foot in front of another to prove that what happened in the past didn’t matter.
“Well, forgive me that I no longer have the luxury of doing what I do every day, which is to take care of our son and this family. Instead, I had to hide Spencer away at some bullshit hippie camp for rich kids, just so he wouldn’t be on the Internet reading the details of your secret life outside this house. So don’t say this isn’t about me. Now, are you going to tell me what the DA said or not?”
“Olivia laid out Kerry’s motive to lie.” I hated hearing that woman’s name come out of his mouth. “She said the ADA looked pretty overwhelmed when she started getting into the details of the problems at Oasis. My guess is the guy can’t find the countries we’re talking about on a map. She told us not to get our hopes up, though.”
“Oh, I don’t think I need that warning.”
He was tentative as he sat on the bed next to me, as if he were seeking permission. “You can bail if you want. I haven’t asked you to stay.”
I shook my head.
“And I really am sorry about Spencer going to camp.”
“I know.” I could feel myself starting to cry.
“You’re scared for yourself, too, aren’t you?”
I nodded. Everything was falling apart. Ever since his agent told him that his book was going to be #1 on the bestseller list, I had this terrible feeling that nothing would be the same again. All I wanted was to be Angela Powell, wife and mother, with my rules and routines and rituals. Good and boring. If I could have one wish, I would erase the entire world’s knowledge of my existence before I reappeared in East Hampton with Spencer.
“Every time the phone rings, I’m convinced it’s going to be someone asking me about him.” My shoulders were shaking between sobs. I didn’t need to tell Jason that the “him” was Charlie.
I let him hold my hand. “That’s not going to happen. And, even if it did, would that be so bad? I hate to say it, but this could wind up being a blessing in disguise—for you, obviously, not me. If it all came out, you’d be free. That cloud over your whole life would be gone.”