Jackie comes out of the bathroom and down the stairs to see the two police officers still talking to Rick. She can tell that Rick is trying his best to remain calm. He’s wearing what she thinks of as his lying face. The one she sees whenever he tells her that he was out at a business dinner when he comes home reeking of perfume.
“No,” Rick is saying with that face right now, “everything is fine. In fact, my wife was out until about a minute before you both arrived.” He sees Jackie making her way down the stairs. “Isn’t that right, honey?”
“Isn’t what right?” she says, stalling.
“Your husband just told us that you weren’t home this morning,” one of the cops says. He’s closer to the age of her son, Robert, than to her own, and so thin that his uniform hangs off him. “Where were you?”
“At the gym,” she says.
The other police officer looks to be slightly older than his partner and has twenty pounds on him. “Which gym?” he asks.
“Bally’s.”
“The one off Hardenbrooke Lane?” the skinny cop asks.
“Yeah. The kids leave for school at seven thirty, and then I go to the eight a.m. Pilates class.”
Jackie’s tempted to just explain everything—well, maybe not everything, but some of it. She could tell them that her husband went through her phone and found a number he didn’t recognize, and even though Rick chases every skirt he sees, he’s also a jealous prick, so he called that number and threatened the man who answered, who was a friend, nothing more, but who was understandably concerned for her well-being, so he called the cops.
She sees no good coming from that scenario, however. For starters, the police would ask for the man’s name to verify her story, and that’ll involve Jonathan, which she’d rather not do. On top of which, she’d be lying about her relationship with Jonathan, and she wouldn’t even be accusing Rick of doing anything illegal. Not really. These two male cops aren’t going to arrest Rick because he called the phone number of a guy he thought was sleeping with his wife.
“Can we speak for a moment in private?” the larger officer asks.
“Sure,” Jackie says, “we can talk in here.”
She leads him into the den. When they are behind closed doors, the cop looks at Jackie with concern, then says in a low voice, “Okay, ma’am, you need to listen. If your husband has gotten physical with you, he’s not going to stop, no matter what he says or how sweet he acts right after. And that means you need to get out of here. Right now. For your sake, and for the sake of your kids. And if you have concerns about your safety, we can protect you. You and your kids. I guarantee it.”
The cop hands Jackie his business card. Officer Craig Sinoway.
Jackie knows that she should take the police up on their offer of protection and get the hell out of there. But no matter what the police promise, she’ll never be safe from Rick.
“Thank you, Officer Sinoway,” Jackie says, reading the name off the business card. “I really appreciate your concern. But I’m fine.”
“If you say so,” the officer says, now looking even more worried than before. “But if anything happens, or if you have any worries that something will happen, please call me. Day or night. My cell phone number is on the card.”
“Nothing is going to happen,” Jackie says with a smile that she hopes will put the cop at ease. “Really. I’m so sorry that you had to come out here for nothing.”
* * *
Rick doesn’t even wait for the police cruiser to pull out of the driveway. When he hears the second car door slam shut, he turns on Jackie.
His lying face is gone. Now it’s the face she fears most. The monster.
Jackie pulls out her phone. It’s her only defense to keep her husband at bay, and she brandishes it as if it’s a weapon.
“I have their phone number on speed dial, Rick. You take another step toward me, and they’ll be back in two seconds.”
“Who is he?!” Rick screams.
“What are you talking about?”
“Who are you fucking?!”
“No one, Rick. What is wrong with you?”
He reaches into the bookcase beside him and pulls out a framed picture. He doesn’t appear to notice that it’s of the kids and not her before he hurls it against the wall, shattering the glass.
“I’m goddamned serious, Jackie! I want to know that cocksucker’s name, and I want to know it right now!”
“I don’t have anything to tell you, Rick. I don’t know what’s set you off, but you’re scaring me. Just go to work. We can talk about this when you get home. Hopefully you’ll be calmer and understand that it was just a crank call. That’s it.”
Jackie is sure that Rick’s going to hit her. He’s got that same crazy-eyed look he gets the moment before striking. But this time, Rick’s fist slackens. His restraint can only be because he fears she’ll make good on her threat, and the cops will return in a heartbeat.
“This isn’t over. Not even close,” he announces.
He stomps out of the house, slamming the front door hard to punctuate the point. She watches him leave through the living room window, her hand still clutching her cell phone, just in case he comes back for more.
Rick’s SUV tears out of the driveway and then shoots up the street. It’s not until he’s out of sight that Jackie releases her grip on the phone.
Then she slumps on the floor and begins to cry.
* * *
Bicentennial Park was erected, as the name suggests, in 1976. It’s not more than a baseball field connected to a picnic area, but it’s one of the few parks in East Carlisle. Given that everyone in the town has their own backyard, and the town used the ball fields at the various schools for recreational sports leagues, erecting parks has never been a civic priority.
Jonathan figured it was a good meeting place for people hoping not to be noticed, especially in winter. Sure enough, he hasn’t seen anyone since he arrived five minutes ago.
He places his phone beside him on the bench, just in case he gets a frantic call or text from Jackie. A minute later, it rings. It’s a New York City number, but not Natasha’s, or at least not any number he recognizes as belonging to her.
“Hello?”
“Jonathan, Alex Miller here. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Does anyone ever answer that question honestly when their lawyer calls?”
“I guess that’s right,” Alex says with a chuckle. “Sometimes I feel like the Grim Reaper. No one ever wants to hear from their lawyer. But I wanted to bring you up to date with my call with the US Attorney’s Office. Bottom line, I told them that you’d invoke your right not to testify before the grand jury, and the AUSA said that your refusal to cooperate with the investigation would result in greater scrutiny.”
“So, just what you said would happen, in other words.”
“Yup. They’re following their standard operating procedure. But I wanted to keep you in the loop and talk about next steps.”
“I appreciate that, Alex. I do, but . . . my father died yesterday, and so I’ve got my hands full with arrangements. I understand how important this is, but can we put a pin in it? Just for a few days. Until after the funeral, at least? That’s tomorrow.”
“God, Jonathan . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t even know your father was sick.”
“Yeah. The other reason I was in East Carlisle. You know, aside from not having a place to live and no money.”
Jonathan says this with a laugh, but Alex doesn’t join in. He must not see this as a time for false levity.
“I’m so sorry that I bothered you at a time like this,” Alex says.
“No, I understand that you’re doing your job. And doing it for free. So I’m very grateful. It’s just that . . . I can’t focus on it right now.”
“Understood. One more thing, though. Again, I’m sorry, but they asked and it’ll slow down the US Attorney’s Office if you voluntarily turn over your passport.”
Jonathan laughs again, this time for real. Running is probably the smart move, all things considered. Still, he isn’t going anywhere.
* * *
Jonathan watches Jackie approach from her car. She looks in every direction twice before venturing into the park, doubtless to make sure no one sees her. It reminds him of their first “date” at the Château. So much has happened since then, but the one thing that hasn’t changed is that Jackie is still deathly afraid of what her husband would do to her if he knew about them.
Jackie takes a seat next to Jonathan on the bench. She wraps her arms around herself, a nod to the chilly weather. After looking around once more to ascertain that they’re truly alone, Jackie puts her hand on top of Jonathan’s.
“I’m so sorry, Jonathan. The last thing you should be worrying about now is my deranged husband making threats.”
Jonathan smiles. “Comes with the territory, I suppose. Small price to pay, actually.”
She smiles back. “I wish I came without any price at all.”
“So what did you end up telling Rick?”
“That I didn’t know what he was talking about. That there was no one else.”
“Do you think he believed you?”
“No, I’m sure he didn’t. He told me in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t over yet.” She shakes her head and forces back the tears she can feel trying to burst free. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I always—always—keep my phone with me. And I always erase your number from the call list. I . . . must have forgotten this one time and he saw a number he didn’t recognize. I guess he was suspicious already . . . I’ve been out a lot lately . . .”
“It’s not your fault. And it sounds like Rick still doesn’t know that it was me he called.”
“He’s going to find out, Jonathan. I know he will. And . . . when he does, he’s going to kill us both.”
“Don’t worry,” Jonathan says soothingly. “I won’t let that happen. I promise.”
She looks at him with uncertain eyes. An expression that suggests there’s nothing she’d like more than to believe him, and yet she can’t.
“Trust me, Jackie. We’re going to be together soon.”
Jonathan’s tempted to tell Jackie how he’s so sure that they’re going to live happily ever after, but then thinks better of it. He’d rather she believe that Rick’s death was an accident.