Charlie asked, “That’s why this happened, because Kelly got pregnant?”
“It wasn’t for the reason you’re thinking. I’m sorry, Charlotte. You clearly wanted children, but I didn’t. I never did. I love them, I love how their minds work, I love how funny and interesting they can be, but I love it more when I can leave them at school, come home and read a book and enjoy the silence.” She tossed the paper towel into the trash can. “I’m not some desperate woman who couldn’t have a child so she snapped. Not having a child was a choice. A choice I thought Doug agreed with, but—” She shrugged. “You never know how bad your marriage is until it’s over.”
Charlie guessed, “He wanted a divorce?”
Judith laughed bitterly. “No, and I didn’t want one either. I had learned to live with his perpetual midlife crisis. He wasn’t a pedophile. He didn’t go after the young ones.”
Charlie wondered at how easily the woman dismissed the fact that Kelly Wilson had the emotional intelligence of a child.
Judith said, “Doug wanted us to keep the baby. Kelly was going to drop out of school anyway. There was no way she could graduate. He wanted us to give her some money, make her go away, and raise the baby together.”
Of all the things Judith could have said, Charlie had never suspected this was what had finally broken her. “What changed his mind about wanting a kid?”
“Feeling his mortality? Wanting to leave a legacy? Just so damn arrogant and selfish and stupid?” She huffed out an angry breath. “I’m fifty-six years old. Doug was about to turn sixty. We should be planning our retirement. I didn’t want to raise some other woman’s—some teenager’s—baby.” She shook her head, clearly still furious. “Not to mention Kelly’s mental deficits. Doug wasn’t just expecting me to raise a child for the next eighteen years. He wanted us to be stuck with it for the rest of our lives.”
Any sympathy Charlie could have felt evaporated with those words.
Judith asked, “What else did Kelly tell you?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I was going to play the martyr; the poor widow accused of being complicit by a cold-blooded simpleton. Who would believe her over me?”
Charlie said nothing, but she knew that, without the footage, no one would have believed the girl.
“So.” Judith angrily wiped away her tears. “Is this the part where I tell you how I did it?” She pointed to Charlie’s phone. “Make sure it’s still recording.”
Charlie turned over the phone, though she trusted that Ben had set it up properly. The phone was not only recording, it was transmitting the audio back to his laptop.
Judith said, “The affair started a year ago. I saw them through the window in my classroom. Doug thought I had left. He stayed to lock up—at least, that’s what he said. I went back for some papers. As I said, he was screwing her on one of the desks.”
Charlie pressed her back to the chair. Judith seemed to be getting angrier with each word.
“So, I did what any obedient wife would do. I turned around. I went home. I prepared dinner. Doug came home. He told me he got hung up with a parent. We watched TV together and I seethed. I seethed all night.”
“When did you start tutoring Kelly?”
“When she started dressing like a witch again.” Judith braced the heels of her hands on the counter. “That’s what she did the last time. She started wearing black, like the Goths, to hide her belly. I knew the moment I saw her in the hall that she was pregnant again.”
“Did you confront Doug?”
“Why would I do that? I’m just the wife. I’m just the woman who cooks his meals and irons his clothes and bleaches the stains out of his underwear.” Her voice had a grinding undertone, like a clock being overwound. “Do you know what it’s like to not matter? To live in the same house with a man for almost your entire adult life and feel like you’re nothing? That your wishes, your desires, your plans, are irrelevant? That any burden, no matter how great, can be thrown at you and because you’re a good woman, a God-fearing, Christian woman, and you’ll just take it with a smile because your husband, the man who is supposed to be your protector, is the master of the house?”
Judith had clasped her hands together so hard that the knuckles were white. She told Charlie, “Of course you don’t. You’ve been coddled, you’ve been cherished, all of your life. Even losing your mother, your sister almost dying, your father being reviled by everyone in the state, made people love you more.”
Charlie’s heart pounded in her throat. She did not realize that she had stood up from the chair until she felt her back against the wall.
Judith didn’t seem to notice the effect she was having. “You can talk Kelly into anything, did you know that?”
Charlie did not move.
“She’s so sweet. And fragile. And tiny. She’s like a child. She really is. But the more time I spent with her, the more I hated her.” She shook her head. Her hair was coming unpinned. Her eyes had a wild look. “Do you know how that feels, to hate an innocent kid? To focus all of your rage on someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, what’s happening to them, because you realize that you can see your own stupidity reflected in their behavior? That you see how your husband controls them, cheats on them, uses them, abuses them, the same way that he does with you?”
Charlie scanned the room. She saw the knives in the wooden block, the drawers full of utensils, the cabinet that likely still had Mr. Heller’s rifle on top.
“I’m sorry,” Judith said, visibly working to calm herself. She followed Charlie’s gaze to the top of the cabinet. “I thought I was going to have to make up a story about how Kelly had stolen it. Or give her the money and pray that she could follow the instructions to buy one.”
Charlie said, “Her dad kept a revolver in his car.”
“She told me he used it to shoot squirrels. Holler people eat them sometimes.”
“It’s greasy,” Charlie said, trying to keep her calm. “I have a client who cooks it in stew.”
Judith gripped the back of the chair. Her knuckles were white. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Charlie forced out a laugh. “Isn’t that what people say before they hurt someone?”
Judith pushed away from the chair. She leaned against the counter again. She was still angry, but she kept working to control it. “I shouldn’t have said that about your tragedy. I apologize.”
“It’s all right.”
“You’re saying that because you want me to keep talking.”
Charlie shrugged her shoulder. “Is it working?”
Her laugh was filled with disgust.