A. I don’t know.
Q. More than two?
A. This is irrelevant.
Q. Let’s try something else before I need to have you held in contempt. Did she ever speak to you about Mr. Falk?
A. Yes.
Q. What did she say?
A. She told me about her trip. He was on the trip. He was in some of her stories.
Q. Can you please be more specific, Ms. Perez? You are under oath. What exactly did Frankie Callahan tell you about Mr. Falk?
A. This is wrong, what you’re doing.
Q. Ms. Perez, I repeat, you are here—
A. This is slut-shaming, plain and simple. How is this even legal?
After
Gretchen
September 12
Bruce was gone for more than thirty minutes. Longer than he’d suggested it would take, leaving plenty of time for Gretchen’s stomach to twist into a rock-hard knot. She needed Scotty to get down there.Hewas the criminal attorney and one of Richard’s best friends. He was the only person Gretchen could really trust to manage this situation.
But she’d already called Scotty six times and sent him at least as many texts. She’d tried Hilary, Scotty’s wife, too, though of course Hilary would probably be dead asleep until past 9:00 a.m. The two women were very close friends, but Hilary was ten years Gretchen’s junior, and she liked wine…a lot. She wasn’t exactly someone to turn to in an early-morning emergency.
Gretchen could have gone to their apartment, could have demanded that the doorman ring up until she woke them. But that would have meant leaving the police station, and Gretchen felt sure that her mere presence was keeping the police in check. The devoted wife, so sure of her husband’s innocence—it had to be giving them at least a little pause.
The whole idea that Richard could have hurt someone, much lesskilledthem, was absurd. Despite his size, Richard was not an aggressive person. Perhaps it was evenbecauseof his size and physical confidence that he was so gentle. He didn’t need to use force, because he intimidated people at first sight. Besides, Richard was determined to be nothing like his own brutal father. He was kind and good and sweet—almost to a fault.
***
The cross-country road trip the summer before senior year had been Richard’s idea. Gretchen hadn’t really been on board. All those hours in Richard’s rattling old Chevy? It was honestly the last thing she wanted to do, especially given that her parents had offered to send them to Paris all expenses paid, or at least Gretchen. They could have paid for the other half themselves.
But Richard and his romantic notions! Richard and his pride! He didn’t want Gretchen’s parents paying for anything. He thought that all the two of them needed was the open road and their love, and who was Gretchen to argue when she adored Richard for appreciating the simple things in life? For being utterly without pretense? Being with Richard had cracked open the surface of the world, revealing all kinds of wild magic that Gretchen had never experienced before. With him, she’d gotten high, lying in a damp pasture without even a blanket, staring up at the stars while listening to an owl hoot. Richard claimed he was singing to his mate, which made Gretchen laugh hysterically. (She was very high.) He taught her how to play the drums, and they’d drive around the twisty back roads of New Hampshire for hours singing to the radio—very, very badly. Both of them. She stopped wearing makeup altogether and yet felt more beautiful than she ever had.
Gretchen had never felt so completely at ease around someone, either. She’d never felt so fully herself, period. Being with Richard had cleared a path for her to find the person she was meant to be. With him she didn’t have to pretend to be sweet or demure or feminine. She didn’t need to remember to smile all the time or to always be pretty. Richard loved her whether she was smiling or not. When her hair was a ratty mess. And he really did seem to find everything she said fascinating. He was always saying she was the smartest person he knew. When he wrapped his arms around her, she felt truly safe for the first time in her life.
Safe, but never weak. Somehow, Richard always made Gretchen feel both protected and strong at the same time.
Brooks had once gently suggested that Gretchen was only with Richard as some kind of rebellion against her parents. And he had (in an uncharacteristically uncharitable moment) pointed out that in spite of Richard’s sketchbooks full of still lifes, he wasn’t a real artist: That fall, he was starting a job in investment banking, like so many of the rest of the boys (and some girls) from their graduating class. But Gretchen knew it was for her sake that Richard had given up on the idea of working at a museum or gallery. Brooks could get that way, a little jealous. The reality was that love changed even the closest friendships. And between her and Richard, it was love. True love. Plain and simple.
The road trip had taken a dark turn one day when Gretchen was in a booth alone at a truck stop while Richard went to the bathroom. A filthy-looking man with a ratty beard and stains on his shirt slid right in across from her like he belonged there. And then he—well, Gretchen still didn’t like thinking about the things he’d said. Disgusting, sexual things. Things he wanted her to do to him. She’d never repeat them to anyone. And then he licked his revolting lips.
When Richard returned a minute later, she’d been looking forward to him wiping the smirk off the vile man’s face. And yet, “I think you’re in my seat, friend,” was all he’d said, at which point the guy grunted and went on his way. Him leaving was, of course, the point. But Gretchen couldn’t help feeling disappointed.Friend? Classic Richard, really.Everyonewas a friend.
So where did that leave Gretchen, when she was supposed to matter the most?
“You could have done something more,” she complained.Like break most of the bones in his face,she’d been thinking.
“Why? To prove that I can?” Richard said with a shrug, seeming genuinely confused. “I think it was pretty obvious.”
“Some women like it when a man makes them feel protected.”
