Chapter 5
Cooper kept his gaze on the table, his fingers curled around the edge like he needed something to hold on to after the admission he’d just made.
“Before you decided to go see Wren that night, how long had it been since the two of you spoke to each other?” I asked.
He met my gaze, his eyes red and puffy, though whether it was grief or strain from the conversation we’d been having, I wasn’t sure.
“A week, maybe longer,” he said. “I sent her a few text messages and tried calling her a couple of times. She ignored both.”
“That must have been hard for you.”
“I tried not to assume the worst. I told myself she needed space and that I should respect that. But the longer I went without hearing from her, the harder it was to give her the time she needed.”
He reached for his soda, taking a few sips before setting it back down again.
“You texted and you called, and when she didn’t respond, you decided to drive to Cambria to see if she would talk to you face to face,” I said.
“I didn’t plan on going there, not at first. I’d finished work for the day and decided to drive around for a while. As I did, I had all these thoughts in my head, and I kept thinking the same thing, that if we stayed apart too long, we’d stop talking altogether and end up getting divorced.”
The waiter passed by and glanced in our direction. The look he gave Cooper suggested he was checking to see how his customer was holding up. Satisfied that the tears had stopped, the waiter continued on his way.
“What happened after you arrived at Mia’s house?” I asked.
“Wren answered the door.”
“Was she alone?”
He nodded.
“Was she surprised to see you?” I asked.
“Frustrated is a better word. She said she’d asked me to respect her boundaries, and by showing up there, I hadn’t. I was sure she’d refuse to talk to me at all, but she let me in.”
“Walk me through the visit starting from the moment you arrived at the door.”
“The first thing I noticed was that she looked tired. And she was thin, like she had stopped going to the gym and had lost all muscle mass. We walked to the living room. She sat on the couch, and I took the chair across from her. Then she asked why I was there.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her I was struggling and worried over the fact that she hadn’t responded to any of my texts or calls. I said I knew she wanted time, and I was trying to respect that, but I thought shutting each other out wasn’t helping either of us navigate our relationship.”
“How did she respond?”
A softness came to his face, as if drawn into a memory. “She admitted something unexpected. She said at first she thought the separation would lead to divorce. But the longer we stayed apart, the more she found herself missing me.”
His eyes met mine, as if searching for a sign, any sign that I believed him. “Those were her exact words. I swear.”
I speared a few pieces of salad with my fork. “What else did she say?”
“The reason she didn’t respond to my messages was because she was still trying to sort through her feelings. She didn’t want to say something out of guilt or loneliness and then regret it later. She needed to understand what it was that she wanted, before she talked with me again.”
“Had she made any decisions when you saw her?” I asked.
“A few. She didn’t want us to move back in together right away, and she suggested we start over, try dating each other again. She wanted to spend time together without feeling pressured, and for us to give each other space to see if we could find our way back to what we once had.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Relieved, hopeful, and, at the same time, terrified. I couldn’t help but worry about what would happen if I made a misstep. Would she pull away from me again? I didn’t know what to expect.”
“At any point during the visit did you argue or were voices raised?”
He shook his head.
“Were you affectionate with each other?” I asked.
The question seemed to catch him off guard.
“As I was walking out the front door, she reached out to me. I turned, and she gave me a hug,” he said.
“What time did you leave?”
“Around seven thirty.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did you drive straight back to Paso Robles?”
“I grabbed some gas in town, and then yes, I drove home.”
I took a sip of my iced tea, buying myself a second to think. Outside the window, two women walked past with shopping bags swinging from their wrists, laughing.
“What was Wren’s mood like when you left?” I asked.
“She seemed lighter, like getting things off her chest helped.”
“Why didn’t you tell Foley or Whitlock about your visit?”
For the first time since we’d met, I detected a hint of irritation.
“I already told you,” he said. “I was in shock.”
The same simple response seemed to be coming up too much.
It wasn’t good enough.
“I can understand forgetting a minor detail,” I said. “But seeing her right before she died isn’t a minor detail. It’s not the kind of thing people forget.”
His shoulders sagged. “I know how it sounds.”
“Do you?”
“It seems like I’m guilty of something.”
That, at least, was an honest answer.
“Why hide your visit with Wren?” I pressed.
“When Foley and Whitlock showed up at my house and told me what happened, it was the worst day of my life.”
Still not good enough.
But I decided to give him a moment before pushing again.
I glanced at his plate. “You should eat something.”
A somber smile brushed his mouth. “You’ve been picking at your salad. You’re not eating either.”
For the next few minutes, we sat in silence. I ate a few bites, and he ate a few bites. Then he put his fork down.
“I apologize,” he said. “I haven’t had much of an appetite for a while now.”
“No need to apologize. I’ve lost loved ones. I know how hard it can be to return to any semblance of a normal life when all you want to do is run from it. Tell me this … when Wren suggested starting over, did she seem certain of that decision?”
He looked out the window, thinking. “Certain enough to give me hope.”
I’d gone just about as far as I could with my preliminary questions for now. I took a few more bites of salad and pushed it to the side. “Before I go, I need you to be straight with me about why you didn’t tell the police about your visit.”
“I was scared, all right?”
At long last, an answer I could accept.
“Being scared is normal, but withholding information can get you in a lot more trouble than just coming right out and telling the truth. If Foley asks why you failed to mention your visit with Wren during your first interview, what do you plan to tell him?”
“The truth. I’ll tell him I was overwhelmed and worried. And I’ll remind him that I loved my wife.”
Plenty of guilty people loved their spouses, until they didn’t.
I stood, and he did the same.
“Do you believe me?” he asked.
“I want to believe you,” I said. “But I’m struggling with the fact that you never mentioned your visit with Wren during your interview with the police.
Being in shock on that first day, I can maybe see it.
But you’ve had a month to clear things up, and you haven’t.
That’s a problem for me, and from where I’m sitting, it’s a problem for you too. ”