The Wife: A Novel of Psychological Suspense

My bare-bones documents weren’t enough to actually render us divorced. The process required us to divide our marital property and reach an agreement on spousal support. One simplification was Spencer. He was my child, not Jason’s, at least legally—and this entire arrangement was about legalities.

Only two hours after Colin broke the news to him, Jason had come back home. We went through our financial statements and filled out the affidavits that we’d need to give to the divorce lawyer Colin had recommended. It felt like the paperwork we filed when we got the loan for the carriage house we were now selling.

He held me all night as we slept, but we were practically silent as I helped him pack the things he’d need for a while and drove him the few blocks to Colin’s apartment. He reached for the car handle and then stopped. “It’s only on paper, right?”

“Jason, we talked about this—”

“I know. You need time. I hurt you. But Angela, I love you. I always have, and that’s not changing. I really screwed up. I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am for where we are right now. But you are everything to me. Always. If this is your way of telling me—”

“No. It’s like I said, we’re doing this for us, Jason. All three of us.” I had a good shot of protecting at least half of Jason’s money in the event he was hit with a major damage award. Colin said Kerry’s case would get dismissed if she remained missing, but we had no guarantees of that. I was being practical.

“You’re amazingly strong, do you know that?”

I gave him a sad smile. “A little bit.”

He kissed me on the cheek. As he made three trips into Colin’s building, I sat alone at the wheel, frozen.





49


Corrine watched from her unmarked vehicle on Union Square West as Jason Powell made a second trip from the Audi into the sleek glass building around the corner on Fifteenth Street. Angela remained in the driver’s seat of the station wagon, hatchback popped open, the engine idling. From Corrine’s vantage point, it appeared as if Angela were staring straight ahead, both hands still on the wheel.

She had spotted the Powells’ Audi backing out of their driveway when she was still a block from their house. She had hoped to catch Angela alone, but decided to follow them instead. The delivery of boxes a few blocks away could mean anything, but something about Angela’s gaze into the distance told Corrine that the boxes weren’t the only thing being dropped off here.

As Powell made a third trip into the building, he paused and turned back toward the curb. Corrine couldn’t make out his expression, but the moment struck her as sad. Angela drove away alone.

Thanks to the direction of the one-way streets involved, Corrine had a head start. When Angela pulled into her driveway, Corrine was standing in front of the garage door.

Instead of asking Corrine to move, Angela parked the car in the driveway and stepped out.

“It’s not a good time, Detective.”

“I’ll be quick. Is your migraine gone?”

“Yes, thanks. I actually tried that vinegar-and-honey trick. I think it may have helped.”

It was a good answer, but Corrine noticed the pause when she first asked the question.

Corrine was certain now. There had been no migraine, and Angela Powell was not the kind of woman who stayed in her pajamas all day without a reason. What else had she been lying about?

“Did you keep my business card?” Corrine asked, following Angela to the front stoop. “I told you to call me twenty-four/seven, for any reason.”

“I know, and I didn’t call. And yet here you are on a Sunday afternoon. What am I missing, Detective?”

“If you’re called in to a grand jury and asked what you know about your husband, what are you going to say, Angela?”

“That’s a strange question.”

“Do you want us to subpoena you? I know you don’t believe me, but I really am trying to help you.”

“By asking me whether I want to testify about my husband in front of a grand jury? That’s an odd form of assistance.”

“I know you had your friend Susanna send a hint to the DA’s office. If you have something to say and want the cover of a grand jury, I can arrange that. If you’re afraid of Jason—”

“I’m not afraid of my husband.”

“Maybe not now. Now that he’s moved out.”

Angela’s face fell as she realized the implication of Corrine’s statement. “You were watching us?”

“You might think this is over, but it’s only just beginning. Kerry Lynch has been missing for four days now. She left her dog, her ID, her credit cards—everything. Based on other evidence at the house, I don’t think she left of her own accord. If Jason wasn’t here Wednesday night, we need to know that.”

“I have nothing else to say to you, Detective.”

“You told me he was home having dinner with you and watching movies that night, like any normal couple. But now he’s moving out. Something’s not right here.”

“Leave, Detective, or I’ll report you for harassment.”

“All right, but like I said, call me whenever you want.”





50


I didn’t bother with a hello. “What did you do?”

When Susanna asked what I was talking about, I could tell immediately she was feigning confusion.

“You’re the one friend I can trust right now, and you’re lying to me. Stop it. That detective was here again, saying you sent some kind of hint to the district attorney. Something about me testifying in front of a grand jury. What did you do?”

“I’m trying to protect you, Angela.”

“By sending a cop to my door? By forcing me to go to court?”

“I asked you point-blank yesterday whether you would lie for Jason if you got subpoenaed. You promised me that you wouldn’t.”

I had hoped my suspicions were somehow wrong. “And so you tried to make that happen. I can’t believe you did that to me.”

“For you, Angela. I did it for you, not to you. All I did was ask Eric to make a call to see if they were opening a grand jury. Frankly, it wasn’t easy for me to ask that jerk for a favor.”

“Don’t make it sound like I should be grateful to you for this. You stabbed me in the back. You have no idea the kind of danger you’re putting me in.”

“Danger? Are you kidding me? Do you know the ethical compromises I’ve made over and over again since this happened, completely out of loyalty to you? I work for the news division of a major network, and I’m keeping company with an accused rapist, one whose career I helped launch. Then you go and falsify an alibi for him to the police. Never once have you acknowledged the position that puts me in.”

I was furious at her for trying to manipulate the situation, but even I could see she had a valid point. This entire time, I had been leaning on her for support, knowing that she would put our friendship over her job. I tried to set aside my own emotions to thank her now. I also apologized for only thinking about myself.

“I wouldn’t be upset if you were actually looking out for number one,” she said, “but you’re not. You’re protecting Jason, at your own peril. Spencer’s too. So, yes, that’s why I tried to get you back on track with that call to the DA’s office. I thought that if they opened a grand jury to look into Kerry’s disappearance, it would give you a chance to come clean.”

“He moved out today,” I said suddenly. “Jason. He went to Colin’s. And I served him with divorce papers last night. So you can stop trying to take care of us. I’m doing what I need to do. I made the decision on my way back from your house yesterday, so you had already helped, Susanna.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t think I was ready to say it out loud yet, and it’s all moving so fast. We packed what he needed for now. We’re going to sell the house.” I still couldn’t believe I was in this situation, and the drastic steps I’d need to take to get out of it.

“You’re doing the right thing.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

“I’m sorry about the call to the DA. I was just so frustrated when you left yesterday.”

“It’s okay, Susanna. I understand.”

“I won’t ever stop trying to run your life, you know.” Her voice was softer now. “We’re okay?”

“Of course.”