Competitive Caitlin, who’d been obsessed with William from an early age. And William had repeatedly cheated on her. Broken up with her. Lied to her. Because he was weak and couldn’t just stay away from her for good.
Obsessed. In hindsight, Max saw the obsession of Caitlin. It wasn’t something she would have recognized back in high school. She hoped she saw it and wasn’t just wishing for it to be true. But what woman would repeatedly take a man back who had strayed? Someone who was obsessed with him, who could lie to herself about a perfect life, who helped perpetuate the myth that all was well. It was the same mentality that abused wives had, that if they only did this or that other thing, their husbands wouldn’t hit them anymore. Did Caitlin lie to herself that each mistress was the last? That it would never happen again? Or did she keep her blinders on and refuse to see that William was sleeping with his secretary? Max was pretty certain that Minnie was only the latest in a long line of bed buddies.
She desperately wanted to talk to William, but since he’d been arrested late Friday night, there was no way she’d get to him until tomorrow. He might be in jail until Monday.
She hoped not. Jail wasn’t a fun place to spend the weekend.
Max finished searching Caitlin’s office, but it wasn’t until the second time through that she saw something just a little off about her wedding portrait.
She took it off the wall. Behind the portrait was a slight lump, like a second picture was behind it. She carefully removed it.
It was an ultrasound picture, faded by time. Dated thirteen years ago.
And the name on the photo was C. Voss.
Max stared at the image that was unmistakably a tiny baby. Carrie had been pregnant when she was killed.
Could William have done this? Killed Carrie because she was pregnant? Is that the secret Lindy had found out? That William had gotten Carrie pregnant … Max counted backwards. It would have happened during spring break. While William was not only dating Caitlin, but sleeping with Lindy.
“Oh, William,” Max whispered.
But if William had done it, would he have kept the ultrasound behind his wedding portrait? Hardly. Would Caitlin?
What kind of sick psychological reason would Caitlin have for keeping the ultrasound? As some sort of proof of William’s infidelity? Could Caitlin justify her actions by looking at this?
Caitlin was just as privileged as William. Carrie wasn’t. Had Carrie threatened William with a paternity suit?
But William wouldn’t have cared. He’d have gotten a good lawyer and fought it or paid whatever the court said. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money, and he’d never been so obsessed with his money that he’d have thought twice about paying child support.
But someone like Caitlin would have hated the idea that William had gotten another girl pregnant. It would have been proof, in her twisted head, that William didn’t love her best. Her competitiveness, her obsession with William—it all now made sense.
Max might never know why she kept the ultrasound, unless she could get Caitlin to talk about it. Could she even prove that Caitlin was the killer? The gun in William’s den would point to William as Jason’s killer. There would be no way of proving he killed Lindy, but enough circumstantial evidence might convict him.
Less had nearly convicted Kevin.
If she laid it out to Nick, he would call Caitlin in to interview, she would get a nine-hundred-dollar-an-hour criminal defense lawyer and he’d shoot holes in Max’s theory. Worse, Caitlin had a way to frame William. It’s why the gun was in his office. Why the victims were his ex-lovers. He had no alibi for Lindy’s murder because he’d been there that night. And he lied, by omission. But if Kevin could find evidence of the parking ticket, someone else knew about it as well. Caitlin? And then there was Andy—the icing on the cake, unwittingly both saving and condemning William.
But one thing was clear. Carrie Voss was already dead and buried when someone copied her handwriting and sent those postcards to her sister Faith.
Max had to get Caitlin to confess. William might try to save her, because he’d always felt guilty for cheating on her.
Max thought back to his secretary. Not guilty enough to stop.
She called Nick again; again his cell phone went to voice mail. She said, “Nick, it’s Max again. You said I don’t know how to ask for help, but you’re wrong. I’m asking. I’m also asking you to trust me. I have a plan to prove who killed Lindy.” At least, she hoped to have a plan by the time Nick called her back. “Call me.”
Her phone vibrated and she hoped it was her grandmother with word from William’s lawyer, or Nick returning her call.
It wasn’t. It was the handwriting expert with a text message.
I would need to see both originals to make an official determination, but I will give you a qualified yes. Both samples came from the same person. Don’t quote me on it, until I examine the originals.
Max was right.
Caitlin Talbot Revere was a killer. How could she prove it?
Chapter Twenty-six
Max sat in the great room, drinking a mimosa, the French doors open, bringing in a cool, fresh spring breeze. It was just after eight in the morning, and if Max had set this up right, Caitlin Revere would be walking through the door any minute.
She only had one chance. If she messed this up, it would be next to impossible for the police to prove Caitlin killed three people. According to William’s lawyer, the police now had their warrant to search the house. The search team would be here soon.
Max had asked her grandmother to call Caitlin and tell her about the warrant. She told Eleanor that Caitlin was a murderer, and if she didn’t want her great-grandsons to grow up in a house with a cold-blooded killer while their father rotted in jail, she had to trust Max.
Eleanor said she’d do it. But now, Max feared her grandmother had cold feet. Because it was eight ten and Caitlin hadn’t come home.