“You left Lindy because chances were, the police would think William killed her and you could have your revenge on the man who betrayed you. At least ruin his life—the same way that Kevin’s ended up ruined.
“You didn’t count on Andy listening to William pour his guts out about the fight, deciding to go over to the house to console a distraught Lindy. Except, she was dead. Based on the time line, Andy was there ninety minutes after William left. He moved her body, put it in the pool to destroy any evidence, and then two days later, called in an anonymous tip to the police identifying Kevin’s car as being at the school that night. Brilliantly stupid on his part.”
Caitlin gave out a dramatic sigh and half collapsed on the couch. “They did it together, I knew it, I can’t believe it—I’m sure it was an accident, William shouldn’t go to jail over an accident, should he?”
“You were never in the drama club, were you? Now I know why.” Max crossed her legs, as if she were having a chat with a friend. “See, Lindy kept a diary. A secret diary, in code. She wrote in her last entry that Hester had returned.”
“Lindy didn’t keep a diary after her mother burned it when we were freshmen.”
“You’re wrong,” Max said bluntly. “Andy hired someone to steal it from me when I found it, because he thought it implicated William. It’s only a matter of time before the police find it. Hopefully when Andy starts talking. He’s stubborn that way, but he’ll talk if it keeps him out of jail. You know,” she added conversationally, her eyes never leaving Caitlin’s, “sometimes I wondered if they’re the ones having an affair because what Andy is willing to do for his best friend is over and beyond what most of us would do. William never told him he killed Lindy. Andy simply made the assumption. But it was you. You did it.”
“Get out!” Caitlin jumped up.
Max stayed her ground. “Carrie was Hester, sleeping with another girl’s boyfriend. Lindy was furious at first, but I think because Carrie was pregnant, she wanted to help her. And that’s why she picked the fight with William.
“He told me yesterday, before he was arrested, that Lindy was angry about a girl he’d dated over spring break. I checked with Carrie’s sister—she’d come home from college for spring break. Ten weeks later, she’s back and pregnant. Easy for me to put two and two together; easy for Lindy.”
“Lindy’s one to talk,” Caitlin said.
“She had an ultrasound taken when she was ten weeks pregnant, a little peanut of a baby, but obvious, dated May thirty-first.” As Max spoke, Caitlin’s eyes looked toward the left—the direction of her study.
Caitlin was too stunned to talk, so Max kept going. “What I don’t know is if you knew Carrie was pregnant when you killed her. I don’t think so. I think you killed her because she saw you kill Lindy, and when you were cleaning up your mess, you went through her car and found the ultrasound picture. Maybe you didn’t even know it was William’s baby.”
“She was a slut. If she was pregnant, it could have been anyone’s baby.”
“When Andy arrived at Lindy’s, he saw a car he didn’t recognize. That’s why he moved Lindy’s body to the pool house and not her own pool. But when the police arrived the next day, the car was gone. It was Carrie’s car. And you moved it. I called Faith and asked her about the car. She said it had been left at the train station, and they got a call from the police a few days later about an abandoned vehicle. They weren’t worried initially that she was missing because she’d told them she was leaving town. You killed her, left her car at the train station, and waited.”
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
Her eyes, again, darted toward her study.
“Then, when the sports complex was approved, you panicked. What if someone found the bones? What if they were traced back to you? Which made me think you killed her with something you owned and buried it with her in her grave. So you went back to find it. And Jason Hoffman wondered what all those holes were, because you couldn’t remember exactly where you’d buried her. He surprised you that Saturday night, you shot him, and used William’s car to move Carrie’s remains.”
“No.”
“Do you know how long I’ve been here this morning? Nearly an hour. That’s a long time. Do you think the police will find the gun that killed Jason in William’s study … or in yours?”
Her eyes widened. “You bitch! You planted evidence! You moved the gun! You—” Then she realized what she’d said. Caitlin forced herself to calm down. “Nice theory, but William is going to pay for his crimes.”
“His crime of cheating on you?”
“All his crimes.”
“The thing is, I can prove he didn’t kill Jason Hoffman.”
“No, you can’t.”
“I called his secretary, Minnie—nice girl, very pretty, very smart, but no common sense, a lot like William—and asked about his car. She said that your Range Rover had been in the shop after a fender bender the day before Thanksgiving, so you were driving William’s BMW for the week. Why? Because he flew to New York Sunday for a business trip.”
“That’s the day after that man was killed.”
“His name was Jason,” Max snapped. “Jason Hoffman. He was twenty-three and had a great life and a family who loved him.” She paused, got herself back on track. “Minnie also had a hotel receipt for Saturday night because William was flying out early Sunday morning and stayed near the airport. Why? Because he wanted one last night with Minnie before he left.”
“You’re lying.”
“It’s ironic, isn’t it, that William’s mistress is going to be his alibi.”
She was watching Caitlin closely. Because Max had made all that up. Not the business trip—that was true—but the hotel. According to Minnie, William had taken the 6:00 A.M. flight out of SFO, which meant he likely left his house at four in the morning.
Max was counting on Caitlin not having seen William that morning and there was a chance he could have left earlier than he needed to.
“Then she’s lying,” Caitlin said. “Now, I’m calling the police.”