After
Gretchen
Gretchen decided to approach Noah King down at his office instead of at home.
It seemed safer that way and also less threatening.
Surely he knew what had happened to Frankie by now, so he wouldn’t be happy to see Gretchen either way.
But for Becks she would do it. For him, she would do anything.
She needed to find Frankie’s ex-boyfriend before the police started sniffing around her son.
“Dr. King?” Gretchen called out. And he jumped.
Not just startled—literally jumped. Like a fugitive on the run.
She hadn’t called out that loudly. “Oh, I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to…” Perhaps all psychiatrists were jumpy—accustomed to, or afraid of, being accosted by patients. “I’m here about your friend Frankie.”
Noah blinked several times in rapid succession. “What about Frankie?” he asked. “Are you with the police? Because I was in Rhinebeck the whole time. I’ve already told you that. You can ask my husband, Max.”
He knew she was dead. That much was obvious. Gretchen wasn’t sure why he needed an alibi, or why he seemed so nervous offering it. She added him to her mental list of non-Becks suspects.
“I’m not with the police.” Coming clean felt like the only option. “I’m—my husband is the man who’s been arrested for her murder.”
“Richard?” Noah asked.
“She talked to you about him?”
He nodded. “A little.” He looked up then, toward the top of the skyscraper he’d just exited, chewing on his lip, considering—maybe whether to tell her to go to hell? “What can I do for you?” His tone was cool but polite.
“My husband didn’t do this. I don’t have any way of convincing you, but it’s the truth.
” She paused, hoping it might give her words more weight.
“I need your help. I know there was an ex-boyfriend harassing her. Sounds like maybe he’s responsible.
But the police don’t know his name and aren’t trying to find out. ”
Noah looked up again as if the answer might be written in the sky.
“Tell your lawyers to look into Senator Adam Foley. He raped Frankie when she was seventeen. He just showed up again recently.” He cleared his throat.
“I already told the police, but they didn’t seem to care.
Not when they already have your husband. ”
“Thank you.”
“I have to go,” he said. When he lowered his eyes to hers, he looked genuinely pained. “I helped you and I was polite. Please don’t mention my name to the police. Don’t even tell them you spoke to me. I have my own reasons for never wanting to talk to them again.”
—
Gretchen could hear Becks and Elizabeth talking somewhere inside the apartment. She willed her shoulders to release as she continued inside. It was more important than ever to stay calm. She’d called Mikey Pearce as soon as she left Noah and dropped the Senator Adam Foley bombshell.
“Yes, thank you,” he’d said, but she could tell that Senator Foley’s name was old news as far as he was concerned. “The police told us about that tip from one of Ms. Callahan’s friends. But they also said that Foley appears to have an alibi.”
“Appears?”
“They said he does have an alibi. But I’d like to verify that myself before we just move on. That said, I don’t think we can count on using him in any meaningful way for Richard’s defense.”
Which meant that Gretchen also couldn’t count on using him to protect Becks.
“Where have you been?” Elizabeth asked when Gretchen finally made her way into the living room.
Her children were lying on opposite ends of the couch, their legs entwined the way they used to do when they were younger and more innocent. Before anything bad had happened. She wanted to leave them that way forever.
“I was with Hilary,” Gretchen said. A lie, not a lie. What difference did any of the details make now? “Becks, I need to speak with you privately. It won’t take long.”
“Privately?” Elizabeth snapped.
“I’m just trying to be respectful of Becks, that’s all.”
Becks stared at Gretchen. Finally, he dropped his head. He knew where this was going.
“It’s fine, Mom,” he said quietly, after a long silence. He untangled himself from Elizabeth, then sat up on the couch. “I don’t care if Elizabeth knows.” There was a chilling resignation in his voice.
Becks had been angry enough to destroy Frankie’s studio.
Had he been even angrier than that? Had he had one of his episodes?
Maybe he didn’t even remember. Things happen.
People argue. Accidents. Elizabeth was right about all that.
Becks could still be exactly the same person Gretchen knew and yet something horrible still could have happened.
“Okay.” She clasped her hands together to steady herself.
When that didn’t work, she rested them on the back of the couch.
She didn’t like how physically far away she was from her son.
Like they were on opposing sides. She came around and took a seat in the armchair next to the couch.
“You told me you followed her and Dad. Were you angry, Becks? Maybe at Frankie?”
Elizabeth looked horrified. “Mom, what the fuck are you—”
“It’s okay,” Becks said. “I was angry at her. Really angry.” He looked down for a minute. “At Dad, too. But maybe more at her. I wanted her to leave our family alone.”
“Did you…Becks, did you break into her studio and do something to her paintings?” Gretchen asked. “With spray paint?”
Becks stood and walked over to the windows, crossing his arms as he looked out. He hadn’t answered, but his silence spoke volumes.
“Becks…” Gretchen pressed.
“I followed her home after she and Dad had coffee. So I knew where she lived, and then, I don’t know, I just hung around.
Like all night,” he said. “Early the next morning, I followed her to her studio. And then really late that night, Luke and I got totally wasted…Luke had this paint, so we went back to her studio. I’m not saying it was all him, or that following her was good.
But Luke kind of went nuts. Cutting up her paintings and stuff.
I wouldn’t have done all that. But I did want to do something… ”
“Becks,” Elizabeth said quietly. She cupped her hand over her mouth. “This is so bad. What if they go after you instead of Dad?”
“That’s not going to happen. It’ll be okay.” Gretchen walked over to her son, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed the back of his head. “I’m sorry, Becks,” she said, even though she wasn’t even exactly sure what she was apologizing for. “I am so sorry.”
—
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Falk.” Leo sounded surprised and nervous on the intercom. The doormen were all that way with her now. As though it were Gretchen who’d been accused of a crime instead of Richard, and that crime was murdering doormen.
“Yes, Leo?”
“There are, um, some police officers here for you?” His voice raised at the end as if it were a question.
Becks. She felt sick.
“Tell them they’ll need to speak with our lawyer.” There was no way in hell she’d let the police up without an attorney present. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.
“Oh, um, okay—hold on just one…”
There was murmuring in the background during which Gretchen debated hanging up. Maybe it was high time to just let the chips fall.
“They, um, want me to tell you that it’s not related to the situation involving Mr. Falk.
It’s about a friend of yours who’s gone missing.
” Leo’s voice hitched, and there was more mumbling in the background.
Clearly, he was repeating the officer’s words.
“They want you to know that it’s kind of an emergency.
They just need to come up and ask you some questions. ”
“Which friend?” she asked. She wasn’t buying this story.
“They’re saying that they really need to tell the rest in person on account of confidentiality and all that.
” Leo sounded pained. It wasn’t like he had the power to stop the police anyway.
When Leo spoke again, he was whispering.
“Also, they seem really adamant. I think they’re coming up—either way. ”
“Fine. Send them up.”