“How did they reconnect, do you know?”
“She worked for my company, they were both members of my corporate gym. I think that’s how it happened.”
“I see,” said Marjorie. She poured more tea into her mug. “I wasn’t close with the family for obvious reasons, but I knew that Audrey absolutely adored her older sister.”
Natalie felt a heavy weight settle in her chest, one she felt compelled to push off.
“He slept with her,” she blurted out. “Michael, my husband, he had an affair with Audrey.”
Marjorie’s gaze was an abyss, dark and impossible to read.
“I see.”
“I don’t think she knew it was your Joseph. I think maybe she found out after, and that’s why he killed her.”
Marjorie nodded her agreement.
“I guess she might not have recognized him—it was so long ago, and she was so young—but he would have remembered her,” Marjorie said. She closed her eyes tightly, a portent of more tears, which gave Natalie a sharp pang of guilt for adding to her misery.
“I’m glad you told me,” Marjorie said eventually, which did little to absolve Natalie of her discomfort. “I can’t speak to his motives. I don’t know my son. But perhaps he was trying to relive his love for Brianna through her sister.”
That notion did not sit well with Natalie, who felt nauseated all of a sudden. The idea of Michael’s affair serving as a macabre proxy for his first love and murder victim chilled her to the core. While she might not have understood what drove her husband, Natalie harbored no doubts that he and Audrey were romantically involved. What else explained Michael’s shirt and gym key inside her apartment? Why else would they have met up in the McDonald’s parking lot? What other “Chris,” the parent of two children, drummed his fingers nervously? Given the list of parallels Audrey had rattled off that day in Buckley’s, it was quite obvious her strong reaction to seeing Michael’s picture had come not from a glimpse into her past, but rather one into her present.
“I’m sorry to have laid all this on you,” Natalie said, following a tense silence. “You’ve been through so much, suffered such a terrible ordeal.”
Marjorie smiled back sadly.
“Don’t feel so sorry for me,” she said, a haunted look slipping into her eyes. Her vacant stare only deepened.
“But you’ve done nothing wrong,” Natalie countered. “Michael—I mean Joseph, made his choices.”
Invoking the wrong name did not appear to rattle Marjorie. “Don’t be so sure of yourself,” she answered in a detached manner.
Natalie clutched at her chest.
“What do you mean?” she asked, tentatively.
Marjorie went very still, long enough for Natalie to grow deeply uncomfortable.
“Is everything all right?” Natalie asked.
“Yes and no. Mostly no. Wait here a moment, will you?”
“Of course,” said Natalie.
Minutes later, Marjorie returned to the living room, carrying an object wrapped in a terry cloth towel. She lifted one corner of the towel as though unveiling a painting. The falling fabric uncovered a large knife with an intimidating, razor-sharp blade. “I’m sure you know what the red stain is, and I promise you it’s not rust.
“It was in his room. I was cleaning it after Joseph moved out, and found it under his mattress when I was making the bed. Soon after, the police showed up with a search warrant, but by then I’d already hidden the knife.”
“Is that…?” Natalie couldn’t find the words.
“The murder weapon? The one used to kill Brianna? Yes, I believe it is.”
“You’ve … you’ve had it all this time?”
“Yes,” said Marjorie, whose eyes had filled again. “And I’ve kept it hidden for my son all this time. I’m the reason that he got acquitted, and apparently the reason Audrey is now dead. Don’t you see, Natalie? I’m no grandmother; I’m no mother at all. I’m as bad as my son, as evil as he is. I’ve kept this secret all these years, and now I’m giving this to you to do with as you see fit. I don’t care what happens to me anymore, honestly I don’t, but Natalie, promise me something.”
“What?” Natalie said, still unable to believe that she held in her hands a knife with such weight and power. The silver blade had old bloodstains running from the tip all the way down its serrated edge.
“Please protect my grandchildren. No matter what you decide to do with me, with this knife, don’t let anything happen to them.”
Marjorie began to weep.
CHAPTER 37
MICHAEL
After leaving Kennett at the bar, Michael, utterly shell-shocked, returned to his hotel room in Toledo. But he did not get a minute’s sleep—he lay awake in bed, tossing and turning, thinking that any moment Kennett would show up at his door, joined by the officers from the Toledo PD. In Michael’s fearful fantasy, Kennett would be dangling handcuffs and a warrant for his arrest, and once again he’d hear his Miranda rights read to him as he was taken back into custody.
The charge would be murder. The victim would be Audrey Adler, aka Audrey Sykes, aka the sister of his first true love, Brianna Sykes.
Michael thought back to the day Natalie had showed him Audrey’s picture on her phone. It had been quite a shock when she accused him of infidelity. Of course it was true, he had strayed, but it was so much more.
Some things done can never be undone.
Gazing fixedly at Audrey’s picture on Natalie’s phone, at those all too familiar blue eyes, Michael was shocked at how close Natalie was to the truth. Just for a moment, he let his guard down, allowed his emotions to take over—and, judging by the way Natalie eyed him with hurt and suspicion, her accusations that quickly followed, it was a moment too long. She knew something was amiss, that Audrey was involved, and that Michael wasn’t being completely honest with her.
And he wasn’t, not by a long shot.
Michael tried to recover, to stuff his emotions back inside the metaphorical box and adopt a more imperturbable expression. After long years of use, he’d strengthened his lie muscles the way bodybuilders did their biceps.
Forget the affair, Michael told himself. If Natalie knew the truth about him, there’d be no coming back.
Then, everything got worse. Much worse.
He recalled the night he got that phone call. She was hysterical. Demanding that she see him, or else. She’d tell. She’d tell everything. He left the house in a rush, and the next day the news came out.
Audrey was dead. There were no suspects.
He doubted that would stay the case for long, but it did. Nobody figured it out. The police got in touch with him because of one email exchange, but so far nothing came of it because there was nothing tying him directly to the crime.