But that wasn’t even what Gretchen meant, was it? Because she did feel safe. She always did. Special—she wanted to feel special. Sometimes she worried that her need to feel singled out fromevery other girl in the world was a hole that even Richard could never fill.
Richard gestured. “He’s gone. Isn’t that the important thing?”
“Yes, well…”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in doing things for appearance’s sake—getting angry, making a scene. I thought you liked that about me.” He’d seemed so ashamed then, and Gretchen had felt awful. Shedidlike that about him—it was a refreshing change from her father, whose drunken rages were blunted only by the fact that he routinely passed out mid-eruption.
“I love that about you,” she’d said, grabbing his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry.”
Richard’s own father had been like hers, except his rages had often ended with Richard’s face black and blue. And here she was, asking him to be like that?
On the way back to the car, they’d seen the man again in the parking lot, leaning against his beat-up truck, drinking a beer out of a paper bag. He whistled at Gretchen as they passed, like she was a dog. She bristled a little but had every intention of getting back in the car and driving away as if it had never happened. She still felt so bad that she’d challenged the very quality that made Richard who he was.
But before she knew what was happening, Richard pulled away and had the man by the throat. He’d lifted him off the ground, the man struggling and grunting. With one hand Richard was squeezing the life out of him.
“Richard!” she’d shouted, and finally, finally, he let the man go. The guy was coughing and retching once he was free, so drunk he probably wouldn’t remember a thing.
But the look on Richard’s face was something Gretchen would never forget—deathly, deadly cold. Like he could have killed the man.
***
Finally, the door opened, and Bruce emerged from a room down the hallway. Richard was nowhere in sight. Gretchen suddenlyfound it impossible to breathe. Things were very bad—worse even than she’d imagined. She could tell from the look on Bruce’s face.
It took an eternity for Bruce to reach her. When he did, he just shook his head and frowned.
“What is it?” Gretchen pressed a hand flat against her belly.
“Richard’s been arrested for the murder of this Frankie Callahan person.”
“No!” Gretchen shouted, and too loud. She knew it was too loud. “How did you let that happen, Bruce?”
“Come on,” Bruce said through clenched teeth, then grabbed her by the arm. “It’s better if we talk outside.”
Gretchen wrenched free of Bruce’s sweaty grasp. How dare he patronize her.Thiswas exactly why she didn’t like him. “I’m not leaving here without Richard.”
“We absolutely should not talk in here,” Bruce said more firmly. And this time it didn’t even sound especially condescending, which was—it turned out—far worse. “It won’t be good for Richard.”
Reluctantly, Gretchen followed Bruce outside, feeling slightly dizzy. The sun had just barely risen, the light thin and gray. They crossed the street and stopped on a quiet stretch of sidewalk a block away. “Okay,” Bruce said finally, looking around and seeming satisfied that the coast was clear. “They have a witness.”
“What?” Gretchen shouted so loudly this time it made something in her neck pop. “That’s not possible!”
“Shh, shh!” Bruce scolded, glancing back toward the police station. He raised his palms, and Gretchen had to resist the urge to bite his big fat thumb. “You need to lower your voice.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. This doesn’t make any sense.” Gretchen stepped closer to him, heart beating wildly. “You need to tell me everything! Right this second!”
“Gretchen, please!” Bruce shouted back, visibly alarmed by Gretchen’s emotional display. “Listen, I don’t know the details. They said they have a witness, that’s all. Also, apparently Richard made some incriminating statements.”
“What statements!” She was still shouting. She couldn’t help it. This was spiraling so quickly.
“Come on, breathe,” Bruce said, still with his palms up. Like she was a toddler. He was exactly like her father. She imagined her teeth sinking into the side of his hand now. She could almost taste the blood.
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. Iknewthat. 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. “ButIknew better. I should have dragged Richard right out of that interview room.”
