The children looked at one another and shook their heads. “No,” they mumbled in unison. He hadn’t spoken about her to the children. That was good, surely. But when Gretchen tried to lean into the thought, she found frustratingly little purchase. Wasn’t her theory that it was only the bad things that were worth hiding?
Mikey was studying her when she glanced toward him, anticipating the next question like a blow. She relaxed her jaw. It would surely be better to seem less concerned.
“He didn’t speak about her with any of us,” Gretchen said smoothly. “He would have had no reason to.”
“No, no, of course not. That makes sense,” Scotty said with a quick wave of his hand.
“We need to cast a wide net with these questions. I’m sure you understand,” Mikey Pearce said, looking at her compassionately. “Sometimes these conversations can yield important details.”
Mikey Pearce had an unassuming way about him, but Gretchen was quickly getting the sense that it masked something far more relentless underneath. Something she wanted him to use on behalf of Richard but that she did not want directed her way.
“I understand,” Gretchen said. “Of course.”
“Anyway, the main thing we need at this point is for you all to be at the arraignment Monday morning,” Mikey said. “You need to present a united front—optics matter enormously. You’ll be in the front row, right behind Richard. Keep your expressions neutral, no matter what you hear. The prosecution is likely to drag out inflammatory details when they argue against bail and—”
“What details?” Cassandra resumed her pacing.
“We still don’t know specifics yet, unfortunately,” Mikey Pearce said. “They don’t have to share their evidence until pretrial discovery. But their story at arraignment will certainly focus on the severity of the crime, and the possibility of flight. So they’ll make your dad out to be a monster. You should not look happy to be in court. A woman is dead. You should react like you’re hearing about a serious, upsetting situation, but one that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“We can do that,” Becks said. “Because it’s true—this doesn’t have anything to do with my dad.” His eyes were glassy, his voice strained.
“Of course it’s true.” Gretchen stood and walked toward him, put her hand on his back. His T-shirt was damp with sweat and her hand stuck as she tried to rub it in a circle.
“That’s why I need to be sure that as your dad’s attorney, I know absolutely everything,” Mickey said. “I’ve seen secrets sink even the most innocent defendant.”
Gretchen’s secret didn’t really matter, did it? And yet to call it irrelevant was a stretch, even she had to admit.
—
“You saw Hilary?” Scotty asked as Gretchen walked him out. He sounded irritated.
“Oh, yes. We had coffee,” Gretchen said warily. They sometimes liked to pull others into their spats—it was almost like they got off on it. But Gretchen had no bandwidth for Scotty and Hilary’s conflict du jour.
“What did she have to say about all this?” Irritated, for sure.
Scotty occasionally tired of Hilary’s antics—everyone did. Buteven his frustration usually masked a kind of good-natured affection. It seemed like Scotty secretly enjoyed his wife’s unpredictability. Helikedthat he had to tolerate her bad behavior. But something about his tone now—maybe she’d gone too far.
“You know how Hilary is.” Gretchen laughed lightly. “She made me feel much better.”
“Yeah, I do know how she is. Well, if you hear from her again, please tell her it would be great if she’d return one of her husband’s calls.”
“Of course,” Gretchen said as they stood at the door. “Have you spoken to Brooks, by the way? Does he know what happened?”
“Oh, no. Not unless you told him.”
He still hadn’t responded to any of her texts.
“No, no,” Gretchen said. “I texted him, but I haven’t heard back.”
“It’s a good point. He might know something. Maybe she mentioned something to him on the trip.” Scotty blinked quickly and shook his head as he rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I’ll try him, too.” He hesitated for a moment. “Listen, I just want you to—I know Richard isn’t perfect. But he loves you so much, Gretchen.”
Gretchen didn’t like the insinuation tucked into those otherwise innocuous words. “What does that mean?”
“That he loves you.”
“Not that—the ‘Richard isn’t perfect.’ What are you suggesting?” Gretchen’s face felt hot.
“I’m not suggesting anything.” Scotty looked panicked—he’d stepped into a trap.
