“Thank you,” she said.
I felt a little lighter. I had helped her. I had done my job. In a way she was an extension of me. And doing right by her lifted me up. But before I got too attached to the notion that her absolution had anything to do with my own, Lola and Kat rushed over. Lola yelled, “It’s been five minutes!” They saw that Gabrielle was crying and assumed I was to blame. They knew exactly who I was. Lola hissed, “If you don’t leave now, we’re calling the cops!” As I walked out, Gabrielle gave me a tired little nod. I knew she was now free. The only question remaining was, would I ever be free?
CHAPTER 48
DNA
As promised, before my actual trial was under way, Roman got to work making sure all the hearsay about the mysterious deaths of Duncan Reese and Richard Vale and Evelyn W. was thrown out. Even if I was in the vicinity, I was never a suspect in any of those deaths, none of which were even considered murders at the crucial point when evidence was at its freshest, witnesses were at their sharpest, and the police were at their most motivated to solve the cases. On top of that, those other “crimes” didn’t establish any kind of modus operandi. It wasn’t like I had gone around shooting people up with insulin for years and had finally been caught doing it to my own husband. Therefore, those three other deaths had nothing whatsoever to do with the indictment at hand.
Roman told me that the judge listened to him, and agreed that any mention of the other deaths just served as a character assassination, which was inadmissible in trial. How they were going to find an impartial jury who hadn’t already seen all the news about Duncan Reese and Richard Vale and Evelyn W. was a different problem. But Roman kept telling me, one thing at a time. This pace was especially difficult for me, since I always wanted to get the syllabus over with. But the justice system could not be rushed. And so my anxiety of not knowing what would happen to me next had to be handled. Benita let me visit the birds after hours. So I would be alone, away from judging eyes, able to live in the moment of each wing twitch and feather ruffle. We never discussed it, but I got the sense that she believed someone so caring to animals could never kill a human. Unless they deserved it.
With the background noise stripped away, all the assistant district attorney had was the fact that my husband died of complications from low blood sugar, I had access to insulin and the know-how to use it, and my motives to murder him were threefold. One, money. Two, a probable affair with my veterinarian. Three, and most damning, Jesula’s testimony that I was unhappily married. Since she was a regular part of our household, her testimony held a lot of weight. Of all the things I dreaded about my upcoming trial, having to watch her twist my marriage into something ugly and listen to her lies about my anger issues and odd behavior after Jason died was at the top.
My thirty-first birthday came and went. It felt meaningless. The only date that mattered was nine business days away. My trial would begin. While I bided my time, Roman flew back and forth from Miami to DC constantly. He had several ongoing cases. I was one of many, of course, but I knew I was his priority. And at least mingled in with all the tragedy of my entire situation, him being back in my life gave me a glimmer of joy. I could sometimes forget my troubles for a moment or even for an hour. We would jog on the beach together. We would reminisce. We would gossip about people we once both knew.
After one of our long sunset runs, when my thighs ached and my heart pounded so hard my thoughts were mercifully drowned out, Roman turned to me. “Can I tell you something?”
I panted, “Well, yeah. You have to now.”
My heart thumped even harder. I was worried and expected the worst. The past year had taught me to always expect the worst, which I hated about my new self. I had turned into a pessimist. Roman saw my expression.
“No, no. It’s not bad. It’s fun. Kind of. It’s stupid. It’s about Jake and Melody, from college. They got divorced a few years ago.”
Those old wounds seemed so shallow to me, so insignificant and superficial compared to the deep wounds I now faced. Perspective and age could not be rushed.
I said, “I’m not shocked.”
He said, “Some leggy pregnant flight attendant showed up at the front door of their Victorian revival, claiming Jake was the father of her unborn baby. He denied, denied, denied. Melody believed him until the woman had the kid, named him Theo, and got a court-ordered DNA test.”
“And . . . ?”
“And the DNA was a match to Jake.”
“Duh.” I took a beat. “But how do you know all this?”
Roman looked sheepish. “Yeah. I’m about to tell you that part. Melody was so furious with him, she wanted all sorts of revenge. So before she officially left him for good, she looked me up and she called me. She said Jake still despised me since I ratted him out in college, and she needed to unleash some rage. Onto my dick.”
“She did not say that.”
“Well, no. Not a direct quote. But it was implied.”
“So . . . ?”
“So I met her in Vegas. And we didn’t leave the hotel suite once all weekend.”
“Ahhhh. You finally got the girl.”
“Are you mad?”
“No, I’m not mad. It’s just amazing to me how given enough time life has a way of working itself out.”
“I wanted so badly to call you! I almost did, literally from the hotel bathroom. I knew you would appreciate the epilogue. But I got scared.”
“Scared of what?”
Roman shrugged. “I guess not knowing if you still hated me was easier than making the call and finding out for sure that you still did.”
I understood. “Schr?dinger’s cat.”
“Smarty-pants.”
I smiled at Roman. And asked, “Did you ever see her again?”
“Fuck no.”
I laughed. My heartbeat was now slow enough to pick up the pace again and race Roman home. Where I would continue to expect the worst.
CHAPTER 49
JESULA
I had three more days of true freedom ahead of me. It was pouring rain. Miami had beautiful tropical storms that came through almost every afternoon, raging for an hour and then retreating into the sky without a trace like they had never existed at all. I looked out my window and watched as the billowing clouds slowly crept over my roof. And my doorbell rang. I had installed security cameras since my front yard was often vandalized, and reporters and strangers and haters and curious tourists always lingered outside. But I couldn’t imagine who would choose to stand out there in this storm. I looked and saw it was Roman. He wasn’t supposed to be back in Miami until tomorrow. And he hadn’t called to warn me he was coming sooner. Something very bad must have happened. Something so bad he had to tell me in person. Like cancer.
He was soaked, his wet dress shirt clinging to his abs. One of his curls flopped in front of his eye because it was now straightened with the weight of water. Without a word he grabbed me. He picked me up off the floor and spun me around, and raindrops careened off him and hit everything from my grandmother’s tiny clocks to Mr. Cat’s fluttering tail. My pathetic-looking sweatpants and faded T-shirt with no bra were now also soaked. Roman set me down.
He said, “Get dressed. We’ve been summoned to the judge’s chambers.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Then why do you seem happy?”
“I’m just a happy guy. Throw on something.” He took inventory of me. “Normal-looking.”