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“What about music? You’re clearly into classical. What about Glen?”
“He’s not a huge music fan.” Suzanne shifted in her seat. “He spends most of his time on his clients. Since accounting is not my strong suit, I don’t ask too many questions.”
“Different interests can be good for a marriage,” Casey said. “What things did you do together?”
This time Suzanne flinched, ever so imperceptibly. “We watched movies. Glen did crossword puzzles. I read. We were homebodies. Nothing too exciting.”
Homebodies? Casey suspected that Suzanne was more of a prisoner.
Casey went in a little deeper.
“Was Glen an easy man to live with? Was he good to you?”
Suzanne was on her guard again. Her gaze flicked away from Casey’s. “I realize Glen hurt you. I’m not stupid. But, in his defense, he’s a complicated man. He doesn’t talk much about his past, but I know he lost his mother when he was six and his father when he was eight. His brother, Clark, was ten years older, so he kept Glen out of the foster care system and basically raised
him. Clark got married when Glen was in college. Not too many years later, Clark and his wife were killed in an automobile accident. That left Glen on his own. I know what that feeling is like. It’s frightening. It changes you. It changed Glen. I’m sure of it.”
Casey was sure it had made him angry, introverted. But it hadn’t turned him into a psychopath. That sickness had been with him all his life.
She glanced down at her notes. “You mentioned that Glen had no family. What about his nephew, Jack? As I understand it, he lived with Glen after his parents died in the accident.”
“He did.” Suzanne swallowed. “Glen thought of it as a chance to give back. Clark took Glen in when he was young and alone. Glen did the same thing for Jack. He became his legal guardian.”
“Yet you didn’t mention him before. Had he moved out by the time you and Glen married?”
Suzanne’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “On paper, he lived with us for a few years after we got married. But he didn’t spend much time with us. Jack was a typical teenager. Wild and reckless. He was always with his friends. He took off when he was sixteen. He didn’t stay in touch.”
“So he and your husband weren’t close?”
“They were fine. They got along. As I said, Jack wasn’t around much. So, even though Glen was Jack’s guardian, Jack didn’t factor heavily in our lives.”
“I understand.” Casey’s eyes shifted, ever so briefly, to Claire, who was standing at the edge of the desk, her fingertips resting on top of a Newton’s cradle. Her fingers slid down the wires of each ball, lingered on the metal sphere at the bottom, then slid back up to the base.
Her expression was intense, and she was visibly recoiling from something she was sensing.
Casey turned her attention quickly back to Suzanne. She had to keep her engaged, so that her focus was not on Claire. When Claire was locked into whatever energy she was picking up on, her emotions were written all over her face.
“I can see that you believe in your husband,” Casey concluded. “Is that because you love him or because you think he’s innocent?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.” Suzanne was staring at the carpet. “I know what the evidence says. I know Glen made a confession. I believe that confession was coerced—not only by you, but by the police. I think Glen was intimidated. I don’t think he realized what he was saying. That’s all I think.”
Another memorized speech.
Interesting that Suzanne hadn’t responded to the question about loving her husband, only about her doubts concerning his guilt. And even those responses had been halfhearted.
“Mrs. Fisher, was there ever a time when your husband hurt you?” Casey asked the question as gently as possible. But she needed to get a total read on this woman.
“Never.” The pulse beating at Suzanne’s neck said otherwise. “Glen has a temper. Sometimes he yells. But nothing more than that.”
“Does his yelling frighten you?”
“No.” Her pulse beat faster, and her reply was blurted out much too quickly. “I know he’d never act on his anger. Most of the time, he’d work out his feelings by going out for a long walk. That always calmed him down. He’d come home in much better spirits.”
I’ll bet he did, Casey thought. After raping and killing another woman.
“He’s a good man, Ms. Woods,” Suzanne said, defending her husband to the last. “Yelling is hardly a crime. Every marriage has its challenges.”
“I agree.” Casey watched Suzanne shove an invisible strand of hair behind her ear—clearly a habitual gesture and a glaring tell. “Do you visit him in prison?”
