“What did you find?”
Joe pulls a blue file out of his bag like the one Teo had the other day. He opens it. An arrest photo of Franny is sitting on top. I take the piece of paper: Eileen Warner, eighteen, arrested on suspicion of murder.
“Murder? She’s a murderer?”
“They never laid charges.”
“Who was she accused of killing?”
“Her parents.”
“Jesus.”
“Her sister turned her in. Said she’d seen her tampering with the car the day before the accident that killed them. The brakes failed, and they drove into a ditch.”
I feel even colder. “How come she got off?”
“They couldn’t find any signs of tampering with the brakes, and there was a long history of animosity between Eileen and her sister. No evidence of a crime plus unreliable witness means no prosecution.”
“But did she do it?”
Joe swings his head back and forth. “She might’ve done. I spoke to her sister. She’s convincing. Says that she and Eileen actually got along all right growing up. But then Eileen started hanging with the wrong crowd, ended up in some kind of juvenile detention program, mixed up in drugs and petty larceny. When she got out of the program, she was very angry with her parents. Telling them they’d ruined her life and whatnot. Then Sherrie saw her working on the car, and the next day her parents are dead.”
“Is there . . . Should we be reporting this to someone?”
“Probably no point in that. I didn’t find any more proof than what the police had at the time. Absent a confession, it’s highly unlikely they’d reopen the investigation.”
“Well, what about that? Why don’t we get her to confess?”
Joe takes off his glasses and polishes them with the end of his shirt. “You’ve been watching too much TV.”
“I have?”
“If you think I’m going to be able to get her to confess in a way that will stand up in court, you surely have.”
“There’s no point in getting a confession that can’t be used,” Teo says. “And we could end up the ones in trouble. Besides, that wasn’t the point of all this. We wanted to find enough to persuade her to leave Joshua, right? This, and the other things we’ve found, should do the trick.”
“What else did you find?”
“The name change,” Joe says. “And her sister says she wasn’t adopted. I looked into it, and she’s right. No adoption records anywhere in Wisconsin by her parents. And they lived there since before Eileen was born.”
“Couldn’t they have come to Illinois to adopt?”
“They could’ve, but I checked the records here, too.”
“Aren’t those records sealed?”
“Some are and some aren’t.”
He looks blasé. If I press him about where he got his information, I’m sure he’ll give me some variation of “I have my methods.”
“Why are you surprised?” Teo says. “You were the one who told me that she wasn’t Kaitlyn’s daughter.”
“I know, it’s just . . . My source isn’t the most reliable person.”
“How so?”
“Let’s leave it at that, okay?”
Joe looks curious. Too curious.
“Right, Teo? We had a deal.”
“We do—don’t worry. Joe’s not going to go investigating without getting paid, right, buddy?”
“True enough.”
“So how do we do this?” I ask. “How do we convince her to leave? She’s not even returning my calls or texts right now, and I’m not sure where she is.”
“She’s back with Mr. Ring,” Joe says. “They reconciled apparently.”
I feel stunned, though I’m not sure why. Joshua doesn’t know what I know. They got into a fight because he was hurt about Kaitlyn and Tom.
“Well,” I say. “That makes it easier, I guess. Poor Joshua.”
“I thought I’d ask her to come in for a final interview,” Teo says. “Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
“Is she talking to you?”
“Nope.”
“So how do we make that happen?”
Teo hesitates. “What if you speak to Joshua?”
“And say what? Your fiancée’s a complete fraud, and Teo would like to confront her with the information so you have a better ending for your documentary?”
Teo smiles. “You’ll make it sound much better than that. Besides, you’re going to have to speak to him about it at some point, aren’t you?”
The reality of it all hits me. Because Teo’s right, I’m going to have to speak to Joshua about all of this. This and the other things we left hanging when Franny found those e-mails. But how can I do this to Joshua? He’s had enough loss already. And maybe his and Kaitlyn’s relationship wasn’t great, I could always see that, and she was unhappy, but he’s a great dad and has managed a tough situation well. On the other hand, I can’t let Kaitlyn’s girls be raised by someone like Franny. What I know already is enough, and nothing Joe found makes it any better, even if she didn’t kill her parents.
“Yes, you’re right. But I’m not looking forward to it.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Can I have that file?”
Joe looks at Teo, who shakes his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but this here is my confidential work product. If it goes out of my hands, then I could be compromising myself and the people who helped me get it.”
“How am I supposed to convince Joshua, then? If someone told me this kind of stuff about my husband, I probably wouldn’t believe them unless I had the evidence. Unless I could see for myself that it was true.”
“I have an idea,” Teo says. “But you’re probably not going to like it.”
He tells me what it is, and he’s right. I don’t like it, but it’s going to be effective, I think, kill another two birds, or three in this case.
It’s just sad that there are so many birds that need killing in the first place.
Joe leaves, and I text Joshua and ask him to meet me for coffee—alone, I emphasize. He dithers a bit but then agrees to meet me after the kids are in bed. Franny can watch them, he writes, his way of letting me know she’s back.
“It’s all set,” I say to Teo.
“Good. Thanks for doing that.”
“I haven’t convinced him to do anything yet.”
“I have faith in you.”
I sink onto the couch. “I have no idea why. I’ve been a complete mess the entire time you’ve known me.”
He sits down on the coffee table in front of me. Our knees are almost touching. He looks tired and stressed. This isn’t easy for anyone.
“You’re not a mess,” he says. “You’re great.”
“If you could see the inside of my brain right now, I doubt you’d think that.”
“I’d love to see the inside of your brain.”
“I’ll bet. The better to document me.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He’s looking at me so intently, as if he’s become the camera, recording my every move. I cover my face with my hands. I’m so sick of being observed, of being seen. Before, I was invisible, a star only in my own life. We could all use a trip to the past.
“This is the problem with us,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“It’s not just the trust thing we were talking about the other day. It’s this film. It’s always going to be between us.”
“I’ll be finished with it soon.”
“But it won’t be finished with me. It’s going to come out, and for your sake, I hope it’s a big success, but for me, I wish that no one would ever see it.”
“Why did you agree to participate, then?”
“You’re very persuasive.”
“I’m not that persuasive. Come on, I’m not recording this; just tell me.”
I look at my hands. I’m still wearing my wedding ring. I put it back on my finger on the way home from New York and never took it off again. “I felt guilty, I think. Guilty I survived, guilty I got that check. Guilty I wasn’t the grieving widow everyone thought I was. And I had this silly idea that maybe it would bring closure to the whole thing. That once everything was down on tape, I could move on, and everyone else could, too. I could go back to being who I was before.”
“That makes sense.”
“Does it?”
“Of course it does. But you don’t have to feel guilty, Cecily. I’m sure you’re not the only one whose marriage was in trouble and whose spouse died that day.”
He doesn’t know how right he is.