Woman on the Edge(12)

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

Jessica goes to the door, opens it. I see her signal down the hall for Martinez. Martinez glides back into the tiny space. Jessica glances at me, and I put my hand on my knee. I’m trembling from the inside out.

“Can I go home now?” I ask. I just want to be home.

“Not yet. I have some more questions, and you’re going to need to answer them before you can go.”

A look of trepidation passes over Jessica’s face. “Can we please talk outside, you and me?”

Both women leave the room, closing the door behind them. For a moment, I’m left by myself, but before I can get used to it, they’re back.

Martinez takes a seat behind the table. Jessica leans against the wall. She gives me a look, which means “say as little as possible.”

Martinez is settling in slowly, taking her time.

“Martinez, we don’t have all day,” Jessica says.

The detective’s espresso eyes sear into mine. “The victim landed on her back. Most people don’t commit suicide by jumping backward.”

I don’t understand. I press my lips shut and grab the arms of the chair to stop my hands from shaking. I replay those final seconds in my mind. Did I see her jump or didn’t I? My mind draws a blank.

Suddenly, I’m catapulted back to another time, back to the moment when I walked into Ryan’s home office and found him on the floor. My heart, my life, shattered into a million pieces. The wet, sticky sensation of Ryan’s blood on my wool pants comes rushing back to me, my hands covered in crimson after I pried the gun from his fingers. I was petrified the whole time that it would go off again. I tried to stanch the flow pouring from the gunshot blast in his stomach, willing my husband to take a breath. But it was too late. Sure, my marriage wasn’t perfect. Ryan and I had our struggles. I wanted a child; he didn’t. There were tensions. But I never wanted him to die.

And now this poor woman is dead, too. How did I not see what unfolded right in front of me? Why is it all so opaque?

“Morgan, did you grab that baby before you pushed her mother off the platform?”

The accusation hits me like a hard slap across the face. I look up at Martinez. My entire body goes cold, and I fight not to throw up all over the floor. She’s asking me if I murdered Nicole Markham.

“What?” I’m staring at Jessica, wondering how the hell it is that I can be asked such a thing. Jessica intervenes.

“Nicole put her baby in my client’s arms; my client did not take her from Nicole. And if Morgan hadn’t been there to hold that baby, the child would have fallen to the ground or, worse, onto the tracks. She might have been hit by the train, too. So what kind of a question is this exactly? Morgan saved a baby. Lots of bystanders saw it happen. She’s a hero.” Jessica arches an eyebrow at Martinez.

Martinez smiles, a dimple deepening in her left cheek. On anyone else, it would be sweet. On her, it’s a threat. “I don’t think ‘hero’ is quite the word for Morgan.”

She’s right about that. A hero would have recognized the depth of Nicole’s pain and would have known what to do right away, would have stopped this desperate mother from ending her life. I stood there, useless, gaping like a fish, as she dropped her baby in my arms. A hero would have figured out her husband was using her and countless others for his financial gain and would have stopped it from happening. It might be the only thing Martinez and I agree on: I’m no hero.

Martinez stands and pushes back her chair. What she says next chills me to the core.

“So you insist you don’t know Nicole Markham, yet she called you by name. I have only one more question for you: How badly do you want a baby?”

“Don’t answer that, Morgan.” Jessica turns to Martinez and barks, “That’s enough. Unless you’re charging my client, we’re leaving.”

Martinez gestures to the door. “You’re free to go. We’ll be chatting again soon, I’m sure. It’s amazing what you can get caught doing when you think no one is watching.”

Jessica swivels her head to me, beckoning me to follow her out. Her lips are tightened in a thin line.

Keep her safe.

Love her for me, Morgan.

This woman, Nicole, knew I’d be at Grand/State. She chose me. I don’t know why, but I’m going to find out. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice. I’m not going to sit here doing nothing while the whole world decides I’m a terrible person.

Jessica takes me by the arm. “Let’s go,” she says.

I step over the threshold and out the door. I never want to be in that room again. I’m tired of detectives and police and the leading stories they tell when they don’t know a thing about me. This time, I’m not going to take it. This time, I’m going to clear my name once and for all.





CHAPTER SIX NICOLE




Before

Sweat pooled between Nicole’s breasts and dripped down the back of her neck. The early-morning sun blazed through the buttercream silk curtains, its brilliant rays stabbing her sore, grainy eyes. She’d never understood what sleepless nights meant until she had a baby. Not only did Quinn seem hungry every hour, but Nicole was up all night obsessively watching her, making sure she was still breathing. Every time her daughter shut her beautiful eyes, the color of the deepest ocean, Nicole kept vigil. Sometimes she even gently shook Quinn awake to make sure she was still alive.