“When was this affair?”
“More than a year ago. Before the baby died.”
“How did the blogger find out?”
“Supposedly, someone saw us in an elevator at the hotel and blabbed to him. We were kissing. At least that’s what I’m told.”
“You don’t remember this?”
“The evening is very, very blurry.”
“Do you often drink to forgetfulness?”
“Shouldn’t the question be—do I drink to forget? Because the answer to that is yes. Absolutely. As much and as often as I can. But that night...it sounds completely lame, but I really don’t remember it. Last thing I remember was having a steak and a glass of wine at the bar. I woke up in her bed. I was naked, she was naked. Draw your own conclusions. Everyone else did.”
“It explains why Wilde would try to blackmail you. Though if you admitted it to Sutton, the power he had over you was gone. Why try again now?”
Because I didn’t tell her the whole truth. “I don’t know. The last we heard from Wilde, he was claiming Sutton wrote my books.”
“And you think he’s trying to blackmail Sutton, too?”
“Sutton’s always been blameless in all of this. It was stupid of her to engage, but Wilde is the one who dragged it on and on. Maybe he did try to take advantage, and she didn’t tell me.”
“Not entirely blameless. She did light a bag of dog poop on fire on the reviewer’s doorstep. Thanks again for sending the video. That helped.”
Ethan shook his head. “I told you before, I didn’t send you anything.”
“You didn’t?” The cop’s voice was light. “Are you entirely sure, Mr. Montclair? Because as I mentioned before, I did receive the video in an email that traces back to your IP address.”
“Let me see the email.”
The cop was watching him like a hawk above a field, sharp and wanting. There was more, she was holding something back.
“Let me see it again,” he demanded.
“You’re telling me unequivocally you didn’t email me the video of your wife?”
“No, I didn’t. Why would I? What would it gain?”
“You’d be helping the investigation.”
“I’d be discrediting my wife, is more like it. Let me see it.”
Holly didn’t move.
“Please, Officer Graham. May I see the video again?”
Finally, she pulled out her phone. The email address was indecipherable. She queued it up. Ethan watched. When it finished, Graham said, “One problem. Your friend Ellen thinks it’s a fake.”
“What do you mean?”
She queued up the video again. “Ellen felt this wasn’t actually Sutton.”
“That’s crazy. You’d think I’d recognize my own wife.”
“Watch it again.”
He did. Closely. Raised his eyes to the clear hazel of the investigator’s who held his life in her hands.
“Bloody hell. Ellen’s right. It’s not her.”
WHEN ALL YOU KNOW IS FALSE
They played it back again, and again, until Ethan couldn’t see any vestiges of Sutton anymore.
“It’s not her. I can’t believe this. I need tea,” Ethan muttered, started preparing the water. “She wasn’t lying. She told the truth, and I didn’t believe her. I just didn’t look closely enough the first time you showed me.”
“Sutton denied doing this?”
“Sutton denied everything. She said she made one flip comment, and then her account was hacked. That everything that came after the first night was fake. I didn’t believe her. Why would I?”
“Because she was your wife?”
“My wife whom I was having problems with. God help me, I thought she was trying to gather attention, to pay me back for the affair. Aren’t I the arsehole?”
Graham pocketed her phone. She was very still. She’d stationed herself by the breakfast bar, watched him move around the kitchen. “Sir, I want to ask you something. Do you have any reason to believe your son’s death was something other than SIDS?”
The lid of the teapot clattered into place. “Sorry. Clumsy. You’ve been talking to the weird sisters, haven’t you?”
“Excuse me? Who?”
“Sutton’s group of friends. They don’t like me very much.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a bombastic serial cheater who belittled her and held her career back. Or hadn’t you heard?”
“Are you?”
“According to them. Her mother will say so, as well. What does the truth matter to a gaggle of women who don’t like a husband?”
“I haven’t been able to touch base with her mother.”
“Lucky you. She’s out of town. Canada, I think. When I told her Sutton was missing, she didn’t seem at all concerned. Told me I didn’t know her daughter and left for her trip.”
“That seems odd.”
“You don’t know Siobhan Healy. She’s no better than a spider—let her eggs hatch, find a wasp for them to feast on, then scurry away.”
“She and Sutton aren’t close?”
“Hardly. Sutton got the hell out the moment she was able to get a job and pay her own way. She hated one of the stepfathers with a passion, felt like Siobhan took his side over Sutton’s. She took off when she was sixteen.”
“One of the stepfathers?”
“Siobhan’s on hubby number four. She never married Sutton’s real father, he was a one-night stand. Sutton never knew him. She grew up hard, my wife. There was a new man every couple of years. They moved around a lot. She finally got fed up and bailed. There’s something...”
“Yes?”
“Nothing, never mind.”
“Everything you can tell me is helpful, Mr. Montclair.”
“I can’t tell you, because I don’t know. Something happened when she was a kid. I have no idea what it was. Siobhan is tight-lipped, and Sutton won’t even acknowledge it. She always keeps a rock-solid wall up about her childhood.
“She slipped once, when we were first dating. We were out for a night on the town, at a restaurant in downtown Nashville. A group of people came in, men and women, our age. Looked like they’d come from a big event, they were in evening attire, tuxes, and long gowns. Sutton turned white, and insisted we leave. When I asked what was wrong, she clammed up. She made it to the car before she started to cry. She wouldn’t tell me why, or who had upset her, but when I asked if it was someone from her past, she said yes, but wouldn’t tell me any more. I tried for a week to get her to open up, but she wouldn’t. My wife is a vault when she wants to be, Officer Graham. Her mother’s right. Sometimes, I wonder if I ever really knew her at all.”
He poured out the tea, handed the cop a fresh cup. She declined the fake milk and sugar, took it straight.
“I’ll take a look, see if there’s anything she was involved in that might show up. And, Mr. Montclair, her friends aren’t as unkind to you as you think they are. They are very concerned for her well-being, yes, but so far, no one’s pointing any fingers. There is another odd thing that’s cropped up, though. The password on her laptop.”
“I love Ethan Montclair. Trite.”
“No, that wasn’t it. It was Ethan killed our baby.”
He set the cup carefully on the marble. “Wait. What?”