Fool Me Once(29)

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

Eileen just shrugged. “They never believe me. They say the right things. But you know Robby. He can be charming.”

And, Maya added to herself, Eileen never pressed charges. The vicious cycle of abuse fueled by a mixture of false optimism and fear.

“So what happened?”

“He came back and beat me. Broke two ribs.”

Maya closed her eyes. “Eileen.”

“I couldn’t live with the fear anymore. I thought about getting a gun. You know. It would be self-defense, right?”

Maya said nothing.

“Except then what? The cops would wonder why I suddenly decided to buy a gun. I’d probably still get charged. And even if I didn’t, what kind of life is that for Kyle and Missy? Their mom killed their dad. You think they’d ever understand it?”

Yes, Maya thought. But she kept it to herself.

“I couldn’t live with the fear. So I set it up to take one more beating. That’s all. If I could live through it, maybe I’d be rid of him for good.”

Maya saw where this was going. “You taped him with the hidden camera.”

She nodded. “I brought the tape to my lawyer. He wanted to take it to the cops, but I just wanted it over. So he talked to Robby’s lawyer. Robby dropped his request for joint custody. He knows the tape is with my lawyer and if he comes back . . . It isn’t perfect, but it’s better now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because there was nothing you could do. Because you’ve always been everyone’s protector. I didn’t want that for you anymore. I wanted you to be okay too.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, Maya, you’re not.”

Eileen bent over the computer. “Do you know how some people want cops to wear cameras all the time? Ninety-two percent of the public. I mean, why not? But I wonder if we all shouldn’t wear them all the time. How would we behave? Would we be better to each other? So I started thinking about that. I thought we should record whatever we could. That’s why I bought the hidden cameras. Do you get that?”

“Show me the order, please.”

“Fine.” Eileen didn’t protest anymore. “Here.”

Maya looked down at the screen. There it was—an order for three digital camera frames with hidden cameras.

“This order is a month old.”

“I ordered three for myself. I gave you one of mine.”

A month ago. So the idea that Eileen was in on all this—whatever the hell this was—seemed very unlikely. No one could have foreseen all of this a month ago. And really, what the hell did Maya think Eileen could have done here?

None of it made any sense.

“Maya?”

She turned to Eileen.

“I’m going to skip the part where I’m insulted that you didn’t trust me.”

“I saw something . . .”

“Yeah, I figured that out. What?”

Maya wasn’t in the mood to share that lunacy with Eileen. Eileen might believe, she might not, but either way it would take time to explain and Maya saw no outcome where Eileen could help her down that particular avenue.

“The police learned something strange about Claire’s murder.”

“A lead?”

“Maybe.”

“After all this time?” Eileen shook her head. “Wow.”

“Tell me what you remember about it.”

“About Claire’s murder?”

“Yes.”

Eileen shrugged. “It was a home invasion. Drifters, the police thought. That’s all I know.”

“It wasn’t a home invasion. It wasn’t drifters.”

“What then?”

“The same gun that killed Claire,” Maya said, “killed Joe.”

Eileen’s eyes widened. “But . . . that can’t be.”

“It can.”

“And you learned this on the nanny cam?”

“What? No. The police ran a ballistics test on the bullets they pulled out of Joe’s body. They ran the results through a computer to see if the bullet matched any other cases in the system.”

“And it was a match for Claire?” Eileen collapsed back. “My God.”

“This is where I need your help, Eileen.”

Eileen looked up at her as though through a haze. “Anything.”

“I need you to think back.”

“Okay.”

“Was Claire acting any different before her murder? Was anything odd going on? Anything at all?”

“I always thought it was a random thing.” Eileen was still stunned. “A home invasion.”

“It wasn’t. We know that now. I need you to focus, Eileen, okay? Claire is dead. Joe is dead. The same weapon was used to murder both of them. Maybe they were both mixed up in something—”

“Mixed up in something? Claire?”

“Nothing bad. But something was going on. Something that connected the two of them. Think, Eileen. You knew Claire better than anyone.”

Eileen lowered her head.

“Eileen?”

“I didn’t think it had anything to do with it . . .”