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Kennedy knew Carl must be as exhausted as she was, but he did a good job hiding it. His tired eyes had softened into pools of deep compassion as soon as Vivian entered his office. If anybody’s appearance could incite so much sympathy, it was Wayne Abernathy’s widow. One of her earrings was tangled in her hair. Smudged eyeliner circled both her eyes, reversing any effect she may have expected from the heavy concealer she’d layered on. Her blouse was tidy and unwrinkled, but she had forgotten to tuck it in in the back, and her tailored skirt was twisted a full forty-five degrees off center.
She sat down. Kennedy wondered if Vivian even noticed her there.
“The detective called and showed me the surveillance footage, that woman who came last night. He wanted to know if I’d ever seen her before. I hadn’t.” She turned as if startled and looked straight at Kennedy but didn’t pause before continuing. “At that point, I didn’t care how she killed my husband or why, I just had to know if he was being unfaithful.” She tilted up her chin. “And before you go and tell me all about how jealousy is a sin, let me finish my story, because it gets a lot more complicated than a simple affair.”
Carl was leaning forward in his chair but didn’t interrupt.
“I had to know the truth, so I went and checked Wayne’s emails. The detective took his personal computer, what was left of it after the fire, but I had his passwords on mine. We didn’t keep secrets, you know.” She wore a haughty look, as if she were daring Carl to suggest her husband had anything to hide.
“It took a little bit of digging, but I finally found these. I printed them all up. I was planning to drive them straight to the detective, but I just ... I don’t know. I needed to come to you first.”
Carl hadn’t touched the papers yet, and Kennedy wanted to scream at him to hurry up. She didn’t feel like she could find any real rest, any real peace, until she got some answers. Answers that were sitting six inches away from her in a bundle that Carl refused to handle.
“Go ahead.” Vivian pushed the stack toward him. “It’s all in there. This will explain everything.”
Carl frowned. Why was he waiting? Didn’t he want to know the truth? Was there something in the pile he was afraid of reading?
Vivian rummaged through the stack. She pulled out one of the middle papers and set it on the top. “Let me show you. Last week, my husband received an email from this unknown account. Look at these attachments.” She fanned out a few more pages and pointed with a blood-red nail that was slightly chipped at the end. “These are emails that my son sent to Marcos Esperanza. And over here ...” She spread out another bundle. “These are his replies. Conversations from the past five months. Conversations where my son divulges some very personal, very private ... Well, you know all about that side of it.”
Carl nodded. “Yes, I do.”
Vivian pulled out a page from the bottom of the stack. “See here, all these download attachments, I clicked on one. It was a tape recording of Noah’s phone call with this counselor. I didn’t listen long, just enough to know it’s something my son would never want exposed.” She shook her head. “From the day my husband entered the public arena, I prayed to God our kids would be spared from the scandals that so often fall on families like ours. Last year we went through everything with Jodie ... I thought that was bad.” She let out a discordant chuckle. “Anyway, three days ago the person writing from this email address demanded a hundred thousand dollars from my husband to keep these records private. I know it’s a sin for me to say so, but anyone who would betray my son’s confidence and try to extort my family like this is a villain who deserves worse than death. I’ll ask God to forgive me tomorrow, but today, I’m not at all ashamed to say it. I’m glad Marcos Esperanza is dead. And I hope right now he’s suffering every imaginable torment for the way he destroyed our family.”