The elevator opened directly into the Hope First Initiative offices, a bright open space with wood floors the color of wheat, vibrant yellow walls, and endless windows. There was a reception desk with a sign overhead—HOPEFIRSTINITIATIVE—in playful blue type. And not a soul in sight.
“What do you want?” came a voice from behind me.
When I turned, there was a petite woman with short, dark brown hair standing near an office door, a sweater wrapped tight around her shoulders. Her pretty face was ashen and drawn.
She was Amanda’s friend, I reminded myself. She’s grieving. It’s not personal.
“I have a few questions,” I began. “Like I said in my voice mail.”
“Why would I answer any of your questions when you’re defending that monster?”
“Monster?” I asked stupidly.
Sarah advanced toward me so quickly that I reflexively took a couple steps back. “Yeah, monster. He bashed her fucking head in with a golf club, and—” Her voice caught.
Shit.Sarah knew about the golf club? Cops and investigators often shared details with witnesses when it served their interests—to get them angrier at a defendant, to make them more sympathetic to the victim. To motivate them to help. These disclosures skirted right up to the line of unethical, but didn’t technically cross it. I’d done it myself. But, wow, did it seem unsavory now. Unsavory and effective.
“Nothing about the manner of Amanda’s death has been confirmed,” I said, careful to stay polite. “And I don’t think Zach killed her.”
It was a deliberate choice of words.
“You don’tthinkso?” Sarah huffed. The anger had brought some color back to her face. “Well, that’s not exactly a ringing endorsement. Aren’t youhisattorney? If you aren’t even sure he’s innocent,then he must be guilty as hell.”
“To be clear, Zach hasn’t even been charged with murder. There was some sort of scuffle after he found his wife, during the course of which he accidentally struck an officer with his elbow. That’s what he was arrested for.”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“And to clarify, I said I ‘think’ he’s innocent because I do strongly believe that’s the case. I could even offer you substantial evidence in support of my position. But it’s circumstantial. I imagine you’ll say it doesn’t prove what I say it does, and it seems you’ve already made up your mind. So instead of trying to convince you, I’d like to hear what you know.”
Sarah cocked her head, considering. Finally, her face softened the slightest bit.
“If Zach didn’t kill Amanda,” she asked, “who did?”
Fear, a flicker underneath.A homicidal stranger?I imagined Sarah thinking. No one would want to think there was a madman on the loose in Park Slope.
“I don’t know yet who killed Amanda. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Though to be clear, it isn’t Zach’s responsibility to find the guilty party. The finger shouldn’t be pointed at him just because there aren’t better alternatives. Also, once the police decide on a suspect, they don’t keep looking. They work to build a case against that person. I used to be a prosecutor—federal white-collar crimes—there’s literally no other way to do the job. But Zach shouldn’t be penalized for that.” I let it hang there for a moment, hoping some part might sink in. “I also think it’s important to move the focus from Zach, so we can find whoever really did kill Amanda. We need to get them off the street.”
Playing on Sarah’s fear of some random killer didn’t make me feel particularly great. But I needed her to reconsider her assumptions. She’d worked with Amanda. She was one of her closest friends.There was no telling what she might know, even if she wasn’t aware that she knew it.
“I don’t mean to be such a bitch. But I’m—Amanda was the sweetest person. Not an aggressive bone in her body. I don’t understand how anybody could do that to her. It’s like beating a …” She winced. “Here, let me show you something.”
Sarah waved me to an office on the opposite side of the room with a bright orange couch and a dramatic gray-striped rug. She pointed to some frames on the wall.
“They’re essays from scholarship students,” she said, approaching one and looking closer. “We’d barely started accepting applications. But Amanda was so touched by the essays we’d received, she framed them. Every single one. I teased her that she wouldn’t be able to keep it up, and she said she’d cover all the walls if she had to. She was a really special person.”
Sarah dropped down onto Amanda’s couch. She was rigid for a moment, then her body sank. She stayed quiet for a long time.
I took a seat in one of the guest chairs. “Was Amanda having problems with anybody that you knew of?”
Sarah shook her head. “If you ask me, Zach was a shitty husband, though. On a good day, he treated Amanda like she was a couch he’d bought to complete his living-room set. On a bad day, she was only an accent piece. And no—to answer your next question—she never said anything about Zach being aggressive or even yelling or anything like that. And I saw no evidence that he was physically abusive.” Sarah’s eyes got glassy. “But deception can be its own kind of violence.”
“Zach deceived her?” I asked.
Sarah’s eyes darted away. “She didn’t say that, specifically. But he wasalways‘working.’ It didn’t seem to bother Amanda.” She was quiet again for a moment. “Maybe that’s what bothered me. Also, personally, I do think Zach is arrogant. He can’t even be bothered toshow up for a birthday dinner for one of Amanda’s closest friends? And I know he’s a big, huge success or whatever, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be polite. Honestly, Zach cared more about his business than he cared about anything, including Amanda.”
“Was there anything else going on in Amanda’s life that she talked about?” I asked Sarah. “With Case maybe?”
“Are you kidding?” she huffed. “Case was a delight and Amanda was a devoted mother. And I mean that, like exceptionally good.”
