One Perfect Morning Page 23

  I did, of course, but I couldn’t let him know that. So I answered his questions one by one, crying real tears between the script. I wasn’t a coldhearted bitch who didn’t love her husband, after all. Owen had been my world. But when your world begins to turn dark and dangerous, you have to ask yourself if that’s really where you want to live. And I knew the only way out was until death do us part … his death, unfortunately. It had to be done, no matter how much I loved him or how much the act blackened my soul.

  This is what I told myself to feel better. To justify what I had done. So far it wasn’t working.

  The detective glanced at his notepad, then looked up at my daughter. ‘Aria, you say you were home all evening last night and didn’t hear anything or see anything?’

  I hated that my innocent daughter had been dragged into this.

  She dabbed her eyes with a tissue the detective had handed her. ‘I was in my room most of the night, since Dad was drinking. A lot. I could hear him watching television and fuming about Mom being out, but that’s all I heard. I had earbuds in most of the night, listening to music. The first thing I heard this morning was Mom screaming and crying that she found Dad with his throat …’ She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to.

  Detective Rossi vigorously chewed his gum, then he shifted to me. I smelled the mint on his breath. ‘One more time, Mrs Fischer, please explain for me exactly what happened, starting with last night. Every detail you can think of, big or small.’

  I had already given the same story twice now. But I knew better than to sound defensive and annoyed; that was a sure giveaway of guilt. I calmly told the story again. ‘We had gotten in a tiff yesterday afternoon and I needed some fresh air and went to visit my friend Lily. We ended up drinking, so I spent the night at her place, since I don’t drink and drive. You can check my voicemail messages from Owen – he called me over a dozen times asking where I was.’

  I knew they would stumble across the messages eventually, so my plan was to offer as much truth as possible – the fight, me leaving, his messages – to appear fully transparent. I could control how the story was told, but not how it was interpreted.

  ‘Why didn’t you return his calls?’

  ‘I was upset. Haven’t you ever gotten in a fight with your spouse? Sometimes you just want some peace. That’s all I wanted.’

  He nodded. What did that mean?

  ‘What time did you leave Lily’s?’

  I pretended to think it over. ‘Um, I ended up heading home pretty early in the morning – it was still dark out. I couldn’t sleep and I felt okay to drive, so that’s why I left.’

  He made a check mark next to something I’d previously said. Good, I wasn’t deviating from my story. ‘What happened when you got home?’

  ‘When I got home this morning, I noticed the back door glass was smashed in, so I ran upstairs to check on Aria and Owen. Aria was asleep, but I found Owen …’

  I stopped, the image of his lifeless body lying there overwhelming me. By my own hand. His face a dull gray as morning sunlight rose over him. A sob slipped out, then another as it hit me that I would never see that face again.

  ‘Take your time, Mrs Fischer. I know this is hard.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I closed my eyes and inhaled a calming breath. ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘You’re doing great. Now think back on the fight yesterday. Try to remember what you two were fighting about. It might be important.’ Although his words were intended to sound compassionate, they came out cold, calculating. He didn’t care about my grief; he only cared about solving a murder.

  A tissue box sat on the table. I grabbed one and wiped my nose to buy time. This was the third time he’d asked about the fight since we’d gotten here, and it wasn’t for no reason. He was fishing for information he already knew. ‘Oh, I remember now. We had been fighting about something he did behind my back – to a friend of ours.’

  ‘Did that fight have anything to do with the recent charges your husband pressed against …’ He read from the page in front of him. ‘Ryan Thompson?’

  ‘Why yes, that was exactly what we had been fighting about. He pressed rape charges on behalf of Aria without talking to us first. We’re close friends with that family. I just didn’t understand why he would do that.’

  ‘Dad did what?’ Aria’s attention swung to me.

  ‘Your father went to the police about what happened between you and Ryan. He formally filed rape charges. I wanted to tell you yesterday when I found out, but everything happened so fast.’

  ‘Why didn’t he ask me what happened? Or if I wanted to press charges? Shouldn’t that be my decision?’

  The detective stepped in. ‘In many cases parents file on behalf of their child, especially in a case where we’re dealing with an adult and a minor, even if it’s consensual. It’s illegal, which is why your father came forward.’

  ‘But we go to school together. Ryan’s not even much older than me.’

  ‘Yes, but he’s eighteen, an adult in the eyes of the law, which makes it statutory rape. Your father was right to report it.’ The detective turned back to me. ‘How did you come to find out what your husband did, Mrs Fischer? Did he tell you?’

  ‘No, Ryan’s mom – a friend of mine since college – showed up at our house yesterday yelling at Owen about it. I overheard.’

  ‘So that gives her motive to kill him, doesn’t it? Her son facing jail time. His whole life ruined before he’s even out of high school. It’s a pretty strong reason to hate Owen Fischer. To want him dead.’

  Oh God, I didn’t like where this was heading.

  ‘No, absolutely not. Robin wouldn’t hurt a fly. She was upset, but not enough to kill him.’

  ‘What about Ryan? Certainly he must be pretty angry to be looking at a possible jail sentence, thanks to your husband.’

  I couldn’t let Detective Rossi pin two innocent people to his list of subjects. I would rather take the blame than let that happen. ‘No, I don’t think so. They’re well off, and it was clearly a robbery. Stuff was missing, the police said – cash, my husband’s car, jewelry. Why would they steal stuff if they only wanted to kill him?’

  ‘To stage it. Make it look like a robbery when in fact it was a murder all along.’

  ‘No, I really don’t think so. If you knew the family, you’d know it’s not possible.’

  ‘That’s what they said about Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy,’ Detective Rossi said with a deadpan expression. ‘You really never know someone until you slip into their skin.’

  That’s exactly what the detective was trying to do – get under my skin, rove inside my mind, discover my secrets. It was impossible to tell from his inscrutable face if he was having any luck as he watched me, like I was a zoo animal behind glass. He wanted to break through that glass, and if I had to, to protect Robin I just might let him.

  Things were quickly spiraling out of control, sorrow and regret fogging up my judgment, and there was no way to put Humpty Dumpty together again. But no matter how much I lied or killed or ran to protect myself, I would never send my friends to hell in my place.

  Chapter 37

  Lily

  SUNDAY EVENING

  It was officially the worst day of my life.

  Up until now, the day of the car accident had been, when my body was broken along with my dreams, but back then at least I had Tony to hold my hand through it. And my two best friends to bring me casseroles and cake. Today I had no one. I was bound to Mackenzie by a lie, estranged from Robin because of an affair, and torn from Tony, the only love of my life, by addiction. What else was here for me? Nothing but mistakes, regret, and anguish.

  As I sat in my car in front of Robin’s house, it was a last-ditch effort to fix the damage I’d done. There was just so much damage.

  Detective Bill Rossi had left my apartment after an hour and a half of questioning that I lied my way through. I hated lying almost as much as I hated being a drug addict, but they somehow went hand in hand and
their grip was tight.

  ‘Was Mackenzie Fischer here with you last night?’ he had asked point-blank.

  ‘Yes, sir. She slept over after we’d had a few drinks.’ Lie.

  ‘Around what time did she leave?’

  ‘It was early this morning, sometime around 3:30, I think.’ Another lie.

  ‘Did you speak with her after she left?’ This was the only question I could answer truthfully.

  ‘She called me when she got home, then again after she found Owen … dead.’ For a moment I had relived the conversation in my head, Mac calling me frantically. He’s dead, Lily. Owen’s dead.

  She never explained how he died, but I had a dark feeling Mackenzie knew more than she was letting on. In the moment I had told her how sorry I was, but that was a lie too. I didn’t feel bad for Owen; Mac was the one I was worried about. Even through the phone I could hear her unraveling as the deafening sound of sirens cut her off.

  ‘And how did she seem when she spoke with you?’ the detective asked coolly.

  ‘How do you expect a woman who just found her dead husband to sound? She was a mess. I could barely understand what she was saying.’

  I wasn’t sure if I had aced my little interrogation, or what all of this meant for Mackenzie. Was she in trouble? Every call I made went straight to voicemail. All I wanted to do was open a bottle of vodka, pop a pill, and tuck today away forever.

  It had been a shit-show of a day, with Tony leaving this morning in an angry huff after I confessed to spiking his drink – only a little bit, I tried to explain, just enough to loosen him up. I had a right to him, if you ask me. I was still technically his wife, after all, so I felt I was due. He disagreed completely, but I didn’t give a shit. The man had torn my heart in half when he refused to give me another chance, instead professing his love for a chick he hardly knew.

  On top of lying to an officer of the law and pissing my soon-to-be ex-husband off, I fell into another Workout Wonder scheduling nightmare, courtesy of Robin. She had managed to find time to schedule Ricky’s workout on the day I already had Samantha’s session booked, so I had to call both clients and straighten it out because God knows what further damage Robin would do if I left it up to her. As I shut the car door behind me and headed up her walkway, I had already decided I wouldn’t tell her any of this. The poor woman had enough burdens to carry.

  Didn’t we all, though?

  My breaking point was another email threat from Asshole Irving, this time via his lawyer. Add to all this the withdrawal ravaging my body, giving me spasms and headaches and chills and nausea, and I felt like I was in the ninth circle of hell. God only knows what the detective thought when he saw me – a sweaty, shaky, paranoid slob. I guaranteed he’d be investigating me further … most likely on drug charges.

  I had been stuck on this merry-go-round too long, seeing the same sights pass by in a blur. Round and round I went, never going anywhere, never feeling anything but sick. It was time to hop off the ride. My life as I recognized it would officially be over today. But I had forged my own fate. Dug my own grave. My bad choices had led me here, to Robin’s front door, and it was time to spring-clean my attic of secrets.

  An owl hooted forlornly from a sycamore tree in the next-door neighbor’s side yard as I stood on the front porch, nervously pacing. A glow shone from Robin’s living room window, but inside it was quiet. I imagined Grant watching television in their bedroom, the two little ones tucked soundly in bed, while Willow sat at the kitchen table cramming for a Monday-morning test at school tomorrow and Ryan played video games in the basement. Robin would be cleaning the kitchen, which she always did at night when no one could mess it up again. Through college she had been the night owl among us three friends, always busiest while everyone else slumbered. I didn’t know if that was what their evenings looked like in reality, but it was a pretty picture to draw. Maybe a picture I even wanted for myself. Without all the kids, of course. Though I could tolerate one. Maybe.

  I sighed heavily, then knocked. I knew better than to ring the doorbell with a sleeping baby inside.

  The rumble of footsteps drew nearer, then the door cracked open. Robin peered through the sliver, looking at me curiously as if she didn’t recognize me.

  ‘Lily?’

  ‘Hey, Robin. Can we talk for a minute?’

  I couldn’t imagine the thoughts steamrolling through her head right now at my unannounced late-night visit. Especially with everything going on with Mackenzie at the moment.

  ‘Sure. Is everything okay?’

  ‘Um, let’s sit down first.’

  It was a brisk night, a sweater kind of night, but still comfortable. A walnut-stained Amish swing hung at one end of the porch, filled with fluffy pillows. I walked toward it. ‘How about out here?’ I figured it’d be best to keep the conversation away from prying ears.

  ‘Okaaaay.’ I heard the worry. I felt it too.

  Although masked in night, we exchanged a knowing look. Our oldest friend’s husband had died under mysterious circumstances, yet our silence vowed to never speak of it out loud. The murder was too harrowing to give voice to. Even if Mac had something to do with it, we’d never tell, because we all knew what Owen was capable of.

  ‘Is this about me dropping the ball on the admin stuff for your company?’ Robin asked. ‘I know I’ve messed a few things up, but I can do better, Lil. I’m still learning the ropes, but I really need this job.’ She was pleading with me now, and I felt horrible that she felt such guilt over something so trivial in the grand scheme of things.

  ‘No, it’s about something else. You know I love you, right?’

  She sat down beside me, pushing pillows around until she was comfortably propped up.

  ‘Of course. We’re like sisters … only without the drama and competition.’ She smiled. Oh, how I would miss that smile.

  ‘I have something to tell you, and I know you’re going to be angry, hate me, probably never want to see or speak to me again, and I don’t blame you. But I have something else to say before I drop this bomb, since afterward I don’t think we’ll be on speaking terms.’

  Her eyes narrowed, the crank turning slowly. ‘You’re scaring me.’ Her words came out a whisper, and I wouldn’t blame her imagination for jumping to worst-case scenarios. This was definitely worst-case territory.

  ‘You’ve been the one person who I could turn to for anything, Robin. You’ve never judged me for my pill addiction – and never made me feel like I was unfixable. No matter how many times I screwed up, you were always there to help me stand back up. I owe you my life, because without you I would probably be dead by now.’

  Her hand reached for mine, resting on it with comforting softness. ‘I’ll always be there for you, Lil. That’s what best friends are for.’

  ‘Which is why I’m moving to California.’

  Her hand flew to her mouth. Cold, empty air replaced the spot where she had touched. ‘What? That’s ridiculous. Everything that matters to you is here in Pennsylvania. Your whole life is here.’

  ‘Was – everything that mattered was here. But not anymore.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Tony and I are making the divorce official. He’s marrying someone else, and he deserves happiness. Being married to an addict isn’t easy, and it’s time he moved forward and found something better. As for Workout Wonder, I’m going to take the company with me and rebuild. It won’t be hard – you know how bullheaded I am about making things happen. But you, Robin, you’re the hardest for me to leave behind because you’re, well, family.’

  Her lips opened to speak, to protest where we both knew this was heading – it was goodbye. I held up a silencing palm.

  ‘I did something unforgivable.’

  I hesitated. Once I said it, it was out there forever, words spinning in space, crashing into her life. ‘I slept with Grant – once. It was selfish and mostly my fault, because I was lonely and messed up and needy. So please forgive him. Please work thin
gs out. I’m leaving because you two need to fix things, and you can’t do that with me here. I know you two can work it out because he’s crazy about you, Robin. It was never love for us. I filled a temporary need that you didn’t. I’m not justifying it, but that’s the truth. So there – you have the truth. I’m sorry, and I hope you two will do what’s best for your beautiful family; a life that I wish I could have, a life worth fighting for.’

  Robin’s wordless gaze hit harder than any emotional shitstorm I could imagine. I stood up and the swing rocked behind me. I was ready to be screamed at, slapped, kicked off her property. Yet Robin sat there in shocked silence. Her eyes watered, a tear slid down her cheek, falling from the edge of her jaw. She felt so distant from me, then the elastic snap of full comprehension brought her back. When she spoke, her voice was choked and raspy.

  ‘So you were the girl – the one he told me about. Wow. I didn’t see that coming.’

  ‘He told you?’

  She nodded, barely visible in the shadow. She sniffled. I had made my friend cry on the inside – the worst kind of grief. The grief you couldn’t show.

  ‘Are you guys fixable?’

  ‘We’ll see. I want to be. I feel like I should be hating Grant … hating you. But I’m just … numb.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Now I was crying, sobs from my belly shaking my whole body. ‘I’ll miss you so much, you have no idea.’

  The hole in my heart widened, so much I thought I’d be swallowed up inside it. I hated goodbyes, and this would be the last time I’d see Robin. Gazing out upon the black night, a reel of memories unfurled. The time we went skinny-dipping at Myrtle Beach during spring break. The ski trip to Seven Springs where Mackenzie accidentally went down a black diamond slope and nearly killed herself. The San Luis orphanage where we built a playground for the kids one summer after sophomore year. The first time Robin got drunk – which was the last time Robin got drunk. Mercilessly teasing Mac by humming ‘Dueling Banjos’ on the road trip to meet her family in the sticks of North Carolina. Each bachelorette party. Each wedding. Each pregnancy announcement and each pregnancy scare. Each baby shower. Each child’s birth. Each and every major event, we shared. And the little ones too. All filed away in the cabinet of my mind, cracked open when I needed a smile. There would be no more new memories. And I wondered if the old ones would ever taste so good again.