A Stranger on the Beach(76)

“She wouldn’t. She’s not like that.”

“She is exactly like that. I passed her in the hall before. She’s in another interview room right now giving a statement to implicate you in a murder. Why can’t you understand that?”

Aidan felt as if the air had been knocked out of him. His hands started to sweat in the manacles.

“Caroline’s here? Now, in the police station? Please, Lisa, I need to talk to her. She can help me figure out what happened. I don’t think I did it. But maybe I did. She knows the truth.”

“If she knows it, and you’re guilty, then she won’t help you. And if you’re innocent, then she’s lying about what you did. This blackout story of yours is nuts, Aidan, but I’m starting to think the most far-fetched explanation is the way to go with you. Maybe there’s something to it. Maybe you were unconscious, and she killed him.”

“I need to talk to her.”

“Is that what happened? Are you covering for her?”

“No. I—I mean, if there was something to cover for, I might. But I honestly can’t remember if there is.”

Lisa shook her head in frustration. How could he make her understand? Aidan could still smell the blood that had drenched his clothes. He could feel it on his hands. Something had happened last night, something terrible. Was it possible to kill someone and not remember? Could he have Jason Stark’s blood on his hands, yet be innocent of his murder? Was Caroline involved in killing her husband? Did they do it together, and Aidan was blocking the memory somehow? The questions burned in his brain. The only way he could answer them was to talk to Caroline.

Lisa got up and pressed the call button to be let out of the interview room.

“Remember what I said. Don’t talk to anyone about your case, especially not to Caroline Stark. Not that that’s even possible. Believe me, they’ll keep you a million miles away from her.”

She left, and Aidan waited to be escorted back to his cold, dank cell. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Caroline was here, in this very building. In the darkness of his mind, he could smell her perfume, hear the echo of her voice. Yes, his lawyer had ordered him not to speak to her. But he couldn’t obey. He had to see Caroline. Nothing else mattered.





47


Lieutenant Jess Messina switched off the tape recorder.

“Thank you, Mrs. Stark,” Jess said. “It was important that you started from the beginning, from when you first saw Aidan Callahan, and your details could not be clearer. You’ve been very brave. Your testimony will be the key to convicting this man of your husband’s murder. I know that was a lot, and I don’t want to burden you more than I have to tonight.”

Caroline Stark hadn’t cried a single tear in the three hours she’d spent in the interview room. But her hollow eyes and pale, clammy skin revealed a woman exhausted and in shock. Caroline was dealing not only with grief and trauma but with overwhelming guilt. A man she’d had a brief fling with had stalked her, stalked her family, broken into her house, held her prisoner, and slaughtered her husband in cold blood right before her eyes. Despite all that, some folks were going to blame Caroline for what happened. Blame the victim—too often, it was still like that. Jess didn’t blame her; she admired her. To her mind, Caroline Stark was a rare truth-teller. How many witnesses were as honest about their own sins as she’d been? Not many. That should count for something. Not to mention that even if you considered Caroline’s fling with Aidan Callahan a sin, she’d already been punished beyond imagining.

“I can keep going. We don’t have to stop,” Caroline said.

“You gave me a lot of information already,” Jess said. “We now have on record that Aidan Callahan stalked you and your family leading up to the murder of your husband. That’s extremely helpful testimony. When you discuss a trauma, you relive it, and that’s very debilitating. You’ll need your strength in the days ahead. I don’t want to ask too much of you now.”

“All right. Thank you for understanding, Lieutenant.”

“I do understand. You can count on me. I’ll be working this case all the way through the trial—if there is one. With the very detailed statement you gave, hopefully he’ll plead guilty, and you won’t have to go through a trial.”

Jess was State Police BCI, brought in to assist the locals with major investigations they couldn’t handle on their own. Normally, they worked side by side, but this case was different. The locals were tainted, because the suspect was the chief’s kid brother. Jess had the file on Aidan Callahan’s prior conviction, and it looked like the chief put his thumb on the scale for his brother on that one, too. That was not going to happen again, not on her watch.

“I want you to know, we’re working every angle on this case,” Jess said. “We’ve got people out searching the area where Aidan Callahan was arrested. We’ve got his truck. They’re searching that. The forensics team will be going to your house to collect physical evidence. I’ll need you to sign a form authorizing that.”

“My house? Is that necessary? I already told you what happened. I’m an eyewitness. But my house—I want to get it cleaned and repaired right away.”

“I understand, but it is necessary. We need corroborating evidence for your witness statement. What we get from the murder scene will bolster our case. Fingerprints, fibers, strands of hair, blood spatters, bullet casings, you name it. We want this case to stick. We don’t want Callahan getting out.”