She is sitting at Patrick’s desk in the corner of their bedroom when her cell phone rings, and she sees who it is, and she answers.
Morning, Mike.
Jesus, Aitch! You were supposed to call me. Confirmation of a little something called breathing, no?
Too loud, McCluskey. Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?
I tip the scales at two-eighty, Aitch, I wake up on both sides of the bed. Now come on, give me some help here, I’m trying to look out for you.
Sorry, Mike. Busy. Lost track.
Well, at least not being slain is keeping you occupied.
I’m going though all his stuff. Closet, drawers, computer.
Who said journalistic ethics were dead?
He’s my husband.
Then it’s kosher.
Exactly.
I figure this means Chef Death isn’t there with you, then.
Wow! What’s with all the names, McCluskey?
Gallows humor, Aitch.
He’s out. Grocery shopping.
Oh snap! That’s exactly what I always have a hankering for after a day of public disturbance and self-mutilation.
Not now, Jen … Sorry, Mike, I have this friend trying to call me, that’s the second time this morning. Where were we?
I believe you were somewhere on the moral high ground. You locate anything useful up there?
Not yet. Wait, what’s this? There’s a document tucked away on his computer here labeled, For Dr. Rosenstock. That’s the name of his therapist. You think it might be like a diary?
Sure, only probably a thousand times more personal if it’s for his shrink.
You think I should open it?
I think … I guess you … Dammit, I’m not Dr. Phil, Hannah. I can’t tell you what the hell to do.
OK, you’re right. I should wait. He said he’d tell me everything tonight.
Then again, of course, it could describe his fantasies about buying groceries Saturday morning and turning his wife into chopped liver for dinner.
Come on, McCluskey. Whatever Patch was doing, there’s no way it had anything to do with me.
So don’t open it.
On the other hand …
So open it.
That’s all I needed to hear, Mike.
She double-clicks, the document opening on the desktop, her eye moving down …
I remember the gunshots made a wet sort of sound, phssh phssh phssh, and each time he hit her she screamed. Do the math and the whole thing probably went on for as long as ten minutes. I just stood there and watched.