Chapter 17 #3
Kathryn’s eyes are blank, difficult to read and almost dead. They point forward at nothing. Wren wouldn’t even call it staring. “I know where he went,” she says flatly.
The room seems to fall into a void; all sound lifts, and everyone waits for what comes next.
Wren is unsure whether the cards should be tipped further to Kathryn or if they should end the game now.
The woman’s lack of emotion is jarring but understandable on a human level, considering what she has dealt with.
Does she think her husband is just a misogynist, a cheater, a sometimes abuser?
Or does she realize the more sinister implications here?
Wren watches her closely, searching for answers and finding only grief in her features.
Leroux looks to Hart, silently prodding him to continue the line of casual questioning.
Hart’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes discreetly shift from Leroux back to Kathryn.
It appears to Wren like he’s steeling himself for what’s to come.
He was probably unprepared for Kathryn to be such an open book.
“Where he went after your argument?” Hart asks quietly.
Kathryn nods, but she seems far away now, lost in regret it would seem. “He drove to the church, then he went over to Salem.”
Each of them holds their breath.
“Salem?” Leroux blurts out, unable to stop himself from stepping out of the kick line.
Kathryn isn’t fazed. She just nods again, looking down at the circles she intermittently makes in the rug.
Wren immediately goes back to what she saw in Philip Trudeau’s office the last time she and John were in Massachusetts.
Before they were essentially kicked out of his church, she noticed a receipt from a gas station in Salem among the papers on his desk.
The thing nearly reached out and grabbed her, but she couldn’t reach for it back.
Real life doesn’t allow people to indulge themselves fully every time an incredibly convenient moment arrives.
Instead, Wren logged it away in her memory.
Somehow she must have known how important the piece of information would become, because she’d kept it safe.
Now she looks at Kathryn, beholder of secrets even she doesn’t realize she possesses, and Wren suddenly feels unsure how to proceed.
Should they show her the cards they hold?
Should they tell her that her ex-husband, the beloved pastor of the community, the man who broke her heart, may have also brutally murdered his mistress?
Do they tell her he likely did it to protect his secret, a secret that she knows too?
“Kathryn, how do you know he went to Salem?” Hart asks, trying to maintain composure. His foot is almost boring a hole into the floor now, it’s bouncing so quickly.
Kathryn shakes her head, putting her hand up to her face and covering it as if she is ashamed. Something that resembles a sob escapes her throat, but she sucks it in hard with a sniffle.
Leroux and Hart glance at each other, and Leroux takes his turn.
“Did you track him, Kathryn? It’s understandable if you did.
” His tone is kind, but his desperation is still obvious to Wren.
He just wants the answers, the green light to take off running in a clear direction; the rest is just dramatics to him.
“It’s an app I put on his phone one night while he was sleeping.
” Kathryn’s voice breaks, and she bows her head briefly to catch it.
It only takes a second before she is speaking in a measured and strong tone again.
“It connects to my phone and another small tracker that is in a hidden pocket in his wallet.”
Wren’s face probably shows a bit of awe. She can’t help but be impressed at Kathryn’s resourcefulness, and when she looks to Detective Hart, she can see that he also respects the ingenuity.
“Wow, that’s … kind of genius,” Hart says, rubbing the back of his neck, likely in an effort to ground himself, to stay the course.
Kathryn shakes her head again, a far-off look reappearing on her face. “It’s just survival,” she says.
“Are you still tracking him?” Wren asks.
Kathryn shakes her head, and Wren’s heart sinks in her chest. She looks around to see that everyone’s hopeful expressions have also melted into ones more resembling defeat.
Kathryn sniffs, taking out a tissue and lightly blowing her nose. “I think he found it or something. Or maybe the battery went dead? It lasts for a long time, but eventually it just gives out if it’s not being charged.”
“Do you know the last time it tracked his whereabouts?” Hart asks, back in business mode.
She nods, taking her phone out again and scrolling through it as she dabs at her eyes with the tissue. “Yeah, um, the twenty-sixth is the last time the tracker clocked him. He was in Monterey.”
Wren nearly jumps to her feet. “The twenty-sixth? As in two days ago?”
Kathryn nods, turning her phone to face them again.
“So up until two days ago, he had not left Massachusetts, according to that tracker?” Leroux asks. It’s as if he can sense what Wren’s brain is processing now.
“Up until it stopped tracking, he had not left the state,” Kathryn answers.
The entire investigation feels like it’s beginning to unravel.
The DNA found at Melissa’s murder scene is a partial match for both Jeremy and Philip, yet neither could have been there to leave it.
For a moment, Wren feels like they’ve been thrust back to the beginning, as if none of the work up to this point has mattered.
The realization brings more uncertainty; if neither Jeremy nor Philip were physically present to leave DNA, then someone else close to them had to have planted it.
It’s a setback with a whisper of progress.
“He was in Monterey, Massachusetts? He was here two days ago?” Hart asks, his energy palpable.
“I can give you the location, if that helps.” She looks up at them, beginning to tap on her phone. “It isn’t exact, but it’s close.”
“That would be incredibly helpful, Kathryn. Thank you,” Leroux says, trying to keep his excitement at bay.
Wren watches them all keep speaking, but she doesn’t hear the conversation.
She’s too busy wading through everything that has happened.
Like it always does, her mind falls back to thoughts of Richard.
If she doesn’t keep it busy, it always wanders back to him, to regret and grief.
Suddenly something hits her like a freight train.
“Wait!” she yells, interrupting their discussion.
All three of them turn to her, looks of concern and confusion crossing their faces.
“Were you tracking Philip the week after he went to Salem?” she says.
Leroux and Hart exchange a look, and Kathryn appears bewildered. “Yes. I’m sorry, are you okay?”
“That means you were still tracking him on the day my husband was killed,” Wren says.
Leroux’s eyes light up, and he falls back into his chair. “I really hope you can tell us there is a record of where he was on August thirtieth.”
Kathryn pulls in a long, strained breath. Her eyes flick back and forth as she considers the implications. “Why is this relevant …? You don’t think he has something to—” she begins, tears forming again in her eyes.