After #2
But he was right that she wasn’t breathing. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. She was suddenly sweating from everywhere all at once, like a giant sprinkler.
“I should never have left him alone with them.” Tears rushed into her eyes.
She hated getting so emotional, but there was absolutely no way she could contain it all—dread, fear, shame, guilt.
“He shouldn’t have been talking to them.
I knew that. You said it. I should have put a stop to it.
But you know how Richard is. He thinks he can charm his way—”
“Gretchen, don’t do this to your—”
“—out of anything.” Gretchen felt like a train let loose down the tracks. “The police counted on us being compliant. And it worked.” She jabbed a finger at her chest. “But I knew better. I should have dragged Richard right out of that interview room.”
“No, no. You mustn’t blame yourself,” Bruce said, seeming somewhat comforted to be back in the role of fixer. “Anyway, they don’t have a signed waiver of his rights. I’m sure there’s a case to be made for coercion.”
She pressed a hand to her tumbling stomach. “But what was this person supposedly a witness to?”
“They aren’t required to be forthcoming with those details right now, unfortunately. They just said that the witness puts Richard near Frankie Callahan’s apartment at the time of the attack.”
“Attack?”
“I shouldn’t say ‘attack.’ That makes it sound— They were pretty light on details about the circumstances of the crime. I don’t know what they think happened to her, much less what they think he did. Frankly, it’s not in their interest to share what they have or don’t have.”
Gretchen cupped a hand over her mouth. Everything she could think to say—he didn’t do this, there’s an explanation, this isn’t possible—was excruciating. And pointless. She closed her eyes again. Get yourself together, Gretchen.
“I need to see him, then. Immediately.” She stood up as straight as she could, spine erect. “They’ve kept me waiting long enough.”
“See him?” Bruce rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Gretchen, you can’t see him. He’s been arrested for murder.”
She could feel her pulse in her fingertips. “I don’t understand. People get visitors in prison all the time.”
“Yes, once he’s been processed and is actually in prison, but not while he’s in a precinct holding cell,” Bruce said.
“I know very little about criminal cases, but they did make it very clear to me that the next step will be the arraignment. But apparently there’s some emergency issue at the courthouse today—plumbing, or sewage.
” He made a disgusted face. “Only in New York City. But they’ll get it fixed, presumably, and the arraignment will be in the next day or two, certainly.
In the meantime, I did get them to agree to hold Richard here at the precinct, given that he’s not your average defendant.
That’s good news for him in terms of conditions.
But there are no visitors allowed here aside from attorneys, or parents, in the case of a minor.
They just don’t have the proper security and screening procedures in place. ”
“The next day or two,” Gretchen said. That was an eternity from now.
Bruce nodded. “And he’ll need a top-notch criminal defense attorney before then. Is that something you can manage?”
The insufferable tone was back. She was angry at Bruce all over again. But anger felt better than panic.
“Yes, obviously,” Gretchen snapped.
“Good.” He checked his watch. “Listen, I have to go.”
“Go?” Gretchen felt desperate for him to stay, even though she absolutely did not want him there a second longer.
“Yes, I have a…” He gestured vaguely. “But this will be okay. It will get sorted out.” He nodded. “Call me if you need help finding that attorney.”
And with that, Bruce was gone, walking briskly uptown on the quiet, early-morning sidewalk, his hands washed clean of the filth coating every inch of Gretchen’s skin. All Gretchen could do was watch him disappear.
“Gretchen!”
Scotty was crossing the street toward her. “My phone was off. I’m so sorry,” he called out. He looked so much younger and more capable than Bruce. Thank God for Scotty. “I came as soon as I got your messages,” he said when he reached her. “What the hell is going on?”
—
“This is going to be okay.” Scotty squeezed Gretchen’s hand reassuringly as they sat side by side on a bench in front of Tompkins Square Park, a few blocks from the Ninth Precinct.
He had listened so patiently as she gave her lengthy recap, his puppyish brown eyes soft and sympathetic.
What a relief to be with someone who cared about Richard as much as she did.
“Statements—what could he have told them, Scotty?” Gretchen said, searching his eyes.
“It doesn’t matter.” Scotty ran a hand over the back of his thick neck. He sounded confident, though. “We’ll get him to recant. And without a signed waiver, whatever he said will be useless anyway.”
“But still, why would he ever…”
“Listen, even brilliant people get overwhelmed talking to the police. You’re tired and confused, they woke you in the middle of the night.
It’s the police’s job to turn people upside down, and they’re really good at it.
It happens all the time to my clients who are just like Richard—brilliant, well-respected leaders who should also know better. ”
“He needs to come home, Scotty. Right this instant.” She stamped a foot like a frustrated child. Oh, she had come so completely undone.
“I know, Gretchen.” Scotty’s voice was gentle.
“Let me get in there, talk to Richard, and try to sort this out. I have a few friends who handle cases like these. We’ll get him the best.” He put a warm hand on her shoulder.
“Go home, take a shower. Change your clothes. Eat something, please. I’ll call as soon as I’m done talking to Richard. ”
“Are you sure? I feel like I should—”
“What you need to do is take care of yourself, Gretchen. If Richard has been arrested, there’ll be nothing to do but prepare for the arraignment.” He stood. “I’m on this. You don’t need to worry.”
“Are you sure?” But Gretchen felt suspended between collapsing and vomiting as she pushed to her feet. It was true: She needed a break.
“Gretchen, not only will you kill me if I don’t handle this, but Richard and Hilary will too,” he said.
“I promise. Go home, rest. That’s what Richard would want, and Hilary would insist. Let me do my job without worrying about you.
This whole thing is some bullshit mistake.
Overreacting will only get you in deeper trouble. That’s the way these things are.”
—
In the end, Gretchen had Sam drop her at the bottom of Central Park and then walked the rest of the way home.
Twenty-nine blocks along the park, the rhythm of her legs, the chilly morning air steadying her.
It wasn’t even 8:00 a.m. yet. There weren’t that many people to see her pajama bottoms, which really did look like pants anyway.
It was also calming to focus on the task at hand—getting to Oppy’s welcome assembly.
When it was over, she could tell Cassandra about the situation with Richard.
But the truth was that she was still holding out hope she wouldn’t have to.
That Scotty would get the police to come to their senses between now and when the curtain came down.
By the time Gretchen was turning in to her building, she was already imagining how she’d graciously accept an apology from the police.
So she was startled when she came face-to-face with Joseph, who was still on duty.
He looked equally alarmed to see Gretchen—ashen, actually—but he tried to cover, smiling broadly.
Even so, the whole thing was terribly awkward.
Joseph was young and rather new and, under the best of circumstances, he vacillated between overly familiar and overly formal, so she wasn’t surprised when his eyes shot to the ground as if he were embarrassed for her, or maybe for himself. Both, probably.
Gretchen cleared her throat. She would not be made to feel humiliated. Not when none of this was their fault.
“Well, good morning, Joseph,” Gretchen said, bright and crisp. Defiant. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, eyes still down.
“Have a lovely day,” she called as she strode to the elevator.
As soon as the doors shut, Gretchen found herself blinking back tears. She forced her shoulders square. Fanned her eyes with her well-manicured fingers. Pretend. To survive, she was going to have to pretend. And Scotty was right. She was just exhausted.
Gretchen’s relief at reaching the apartment was short-lived.
As she swung open the door, she could see that it had been utterly ransacked.
In every direction, drawers were open, their possessions strewn about the floor.
Detective Reyes had warned her, but nothing could have prepared her for the extent of the damage.
Across the foyer in the living room, she could see that even the couch cushions had been lifted and tossed around.
Gretchen was still standing in the entryway when she heard a key turn in the lock behind her.
Lita. Their housekeeper. Lita had lived in with them ever since they’d moved into the apartment, but since Becks left for college, she worked only nine to five.
Sometimes Gretchen thought about inviting her back to live.
They were so fond of each other, and the house was so empty without the children.
But she was worried Lita might feel obligated, and if Gretchen was completely honest with herself, Lita did seem happier now that she was living out.
“Good morning,” Lita called cheerfully as she entered. But her smile fell and her hand went to her mouth when she saw the chaos. “Ay, dios mío!”