I’m rooted to the spot and my skin prickles with apprehension. “What felt wrong about it?”
She pulls a face. “They painted her as this cold, calculating woman, but I didn’t pick up on the calculating part of her personality when I spoke with her. Sure, she can be cold, but I think that’s only when she feels threatened. Once we moved past her mistrust of me, she was anything but cold. She struck me as a very unhappy woman who felt trapped in a marriage with a man she struggled to believe loved her. Her childhood was full of bullying, abuse and a lack of parental love, so I don’t think she ever learnt how to love. But she was desperate for it underneath that bitchy coat she wore to protect herself from hurt. Her husband was amazing throughout the trial, always by her side, supporting her however she needed it. And yet, she couldn’t see the love he had for her. I think a calculating person would be more in tune with what other people are thinking. Smarter, you know?”
My legs are weak and my head is spinning.
Marion touches my arm. “Callie, are you okay? Do you need to sit down? You’re so pale all of a sudden.”
I nod and take the seat she offers me. “Have you got any water?”
She leaves me for a couple of minutes to find water. When she returns, I’m feeling a little better. “Thank you,” I say as she passes me the glass.
Sitting opposite me, she says, “What happened there?”
I take a gulp of water. “I know her husband.”
“Do you know her?”
I shake my head. “No. I only met him just over a year ago. My best friend works for him.” I omit that I’m in love with the man.
“I feel sorry for him. Either way, he’s been screwed over.”
I lean forward. “What does your gut tell you about the murder?”
She exhales a long breath after thinking for a good minute or so. “Honestly, I’m inclined to think she’s innocent. I researched it for months but came up short. And I know her husband hired a detective, and he found nothing that helped. But I still have this doubt at the back of my head.”
Oh, God.
This is bad.
Very, very bad.
I bite my lip. “Would you consider leaving your file with me so I could keep looking into it?”
She frowns. “I won’t leave the original documents here, but you could photocopy them now before I go.”
“Thank you.”
As I exit her office with the file to photocopy, she calls out, “I’m available anytime you want to go over something. Two heads and all.”
At this point, I’m not even sure I want to go over the file, but my gut is screaming at me to at least get a copy of it so I can read through it.
Maybe not today.
But soon.
When I work up the courage.
Because if this is as bad as I’m beginning to think it could be, it will alter my future in ways I’m sure I can’t even imagine.
* * *
I reach for the glass sitting on the table in front of me. Throwing back every last drop of vodka that’s left in it, I scrunch my eyes and then squeeze my eyes shut for a brief moment.
What a day.
It started off great and ended being so fucked-up.
It’s close to midnight and I’ve spent tonight organising Sean’s party and reading over the file Marion had on Jolene. The party turned out to be far easier to put together than I originally thought. But that could be because Marion’s file hovered over me like a dark shadow making the party preparations feel uncomplicated.
I’ve read the file from back to front, two times over. I’ve also spent an hour looking online for any articles I can find. There are a lot. And not one of them portrays Jolene in a light other than a calculating murderer.
The prosecution stated Jolene’s motive was pure revenge for her mother, Penny Spiers, being a bad mother. They claimed she lured her mother to the motel on the night of the murder with the intent of killing her after they had a roaring argument earlier that day. Jolene admitted to the argument but held fast to her denial of murder. She also testified to a hard relationship with her mother. Jolene had trouble refuting anything the prosecution alleged about her relationship with her mother. Her sister, Glenda, also backed the prosecution.