The Couple Next Door(48)
“That’s ridiculous!” Anne says, her voice rising.
“Do you have any idea who that accomplice might be?” Rasbach persists.
“You’re wrong,” Anne says.
“Am I?”
“Yes. Marco didn’t take Cora.”
“Let me tell you something,” Rasbach says, leaning forward. “Your husband’s business is in trouble. Deep trouble.”
Anne feels herself go paler. “It is?” she says.
“I’m afraid so.”
“To be honest, Detective, I don’t really care if the business is in trouble. Our baby is gone. What does either of us care now about money?”
“It’s just that . . .” Rasbach pauses, as if changing his mind about what he’s going to say. He looks at Jennings.
“What?” Anne glances nervously back and forth between the two detectives.
“It’s just that I see things in your husband that you may not see,” Rasbach says.
Anne does not want to take the bait. But the detective waits, letting the silence expand. She has no choice. “Like what?”
Rasbach asks, “Don’t you think it’s a bit manipulative of him not to be honest with you about the business?”
“No, not if I didn’t show any interest. He was probably trying to protect me, because I’ve been depressed.” Rasbach says nothing, just regards her with his sharp blue eyes. “Marco is not manipulative,” Anne insists.
“What about the relationship between Marco and your parents? Marco and your father?” Rasbach says.
“I told you, they don’t like each other. They tolerate each other, for me. But that’s my parents’ fault. No matter what Marco does, it’s never good enough. I could have married anyone, and it would have been the same.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know. That’s just the way they are. They’re overprotective and hard to please. Maybe it’s because I’m an only child.” She has reduced the tissue in her lap to crumbs. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter about the business, not really. My parents have a lot of money. They could always help us if we needed it.”
“But would they?”
“Of course they would. All I’d have to do is ask. My parents have never denied me anything. They came up with five million dollars just like that for Cora.”
“Yes, they did.” The detective pauses, then says, “I tried to see Dr. Lumsden, but apparently she’s away.”
Anne feels the blood drain from her face but forces herself to sit up straight. She knows he can’t have talked to Dr. Lumsden. Even after she returns, there is no way Dr. Lumsden will talk to the detective about her. “She won’t tell you anything about me,” Anne says. “She can’t. She’s my doctor, and you know it. Why are you toying with me this way?”
“You’re right. I can’t get your doctor to breach doctor-patient privilege.”
Anne leans back in her chair and gives the detective an annoyed look.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me, though?” the detective asks.
“Why would I talk to you about my sessions with my psychiatrist? It’s none of your goddamned business,” Anne says bitterly. “I have mild postpartum depression like lots of other new mothers. It doesn’t mean I harmed my baby. I want nothing more than to get her back.”
“I can’t help thinking it’s possible that Marco might have had the baby taken away to cover up for you, if you killed her.”
“That’s crazy! Then how do you explain our getting the onesie in the mail and the ransom money being taken?”
“Marco might have faked the kidnapping, after the baby was already dead. And the empty car seat, the hit on the head—maybe that was all for show.”
She gives him a disbelieving stare. “That’s absurd. And I did not harm my baby, Detective.”
Rasbach fiddles with his pen, watching her. “I had your mother in for an interview earlier this morning.”
Anne feels the room begin to spin.
TWENTY-ONE
Rasbach watches Anne carefully, fears she might faint. He waits while she reaches for the bottle of water, waits for her color to return.
There is nothing he can do about the psychiatrist. His hands are tied. He hadn’t gotten any further with the mother, but Anne is obviously afraid that she’d said something. Rasbach is pretty sure he knows what she’s afraid of. “What do you think your mother told me?” Rasbach asks.
“I don’t think she told you anything,” Anne says sharply. “There’s nothing to tell.”
He considers her for a few moments. Thinks how different she is from her mother—a very composed woman, busy with her social committees and charities and much more canny than her daughter. Certainly less emotional, with a clearer head. Alice Dries had come into the interview room, smiled icily, stated her name, and then told him she had nothing to say to him. It was a very short interview.
“She didn’t tell me she was coming in this morning,” Anne says.
“Didn’t she?”
“What did she say?” Anne asks.
“You’re right, she didn’t say anything,” Rasbach admits.