Elizabeth looked horrified. “Mom, what the fuck are you—”
“It’s okay,” Becks said. “Iwasangry 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.”
Grand Jury Transcript
Testimony of Senator Adam Foley
Conducted by Abigail Hoffman, Assistant District Attorney
November 30
Q. Senator, can you please state your full name for the record?
A. Adam Charles Foley.
Q. How did you know Frankie Callahan?
A. We met at a party over 20 years ago.
Q. That party was thrown in Washington, D.C., by Leonard King, the father of Noah King, is that correct?
A. Yes. We were colleagues at Sinclair, Williams.
