The Wife Who Knew Too Much(68)

They wanted me to testify against him. But, just like with Derek, I had nothing to offer. I didn’t know how Nina died, because I wasn’t involved in killing her. If Connor was, I knew nothing about it. I might have my suspicions. But that’s all they were—suspicions. What if he was innocent, too? I still loved him. I was carrying his child. I couldn’t let myself be maneuvered into implicating him in a murder that he might not have committed.

“I had nothing to do with Nina Levitt’s death,” I said. “I don’t know anything about it. You’re asking me to lie, to invent evidence that doesn’t exist.”

In the rearview mirror, Hagerty looked alarmed. Pardo shot me an annoyed glance.

“She’s playing games,” Pardo said.

“You’re the ones playing games—with people’s lives,” I said. “I told you I’m innocent. Instead of taking my word for it, you’re trying to get me to set up my husband. You’re asking me to lie.”

“That right there is going to wreck your chance at a plea deal,” Pardo said.

“I don’t want a plea deal from you, and I don’t need one. I’m innocent. You’re only doing this because of a tabloid story. And that story is a lie. Your case is based on nothing. It’s made up out of thin air. I see no point in talking to you when your minds are closed against me. That’s all I have to say. Now, I choose to remain silent. I want a lawyer.”





31





I spent a few sleepless hours in a freezing holding cell before being transported to court, where I was placed in another freezing holding cell to wait for a lawyer. I hadn’t showered since Dubai, and I’d had nothing to eat. I had to wait to use the bathroom until a female officer was available. I was desperate to talk to Connor, but they wouldn’t let me make a phone call. I couldn’t wait to get to court, so I could talk to him. I didn’t understand what was happening, and why they’d arrested me for Nina’s murder. But Connor would know. He’d have a lawyer with him. They’d have information, a plan, a change of clothes. They’d get me out of this nightmarish place.

Hours passed. Nobody would tell me what the schedule was. The uncertainty sent me into a kind of grim coma. I was practically catatonic, so exhausted that I tried to sleep on the hard, grimy metal bench. At least, as the only female prisoner going to court that day, I had a small cell to myself. The female guard came back with a plastic cup of water and a ham sandwich. She told me to hurry up and eat because my lawyer was waiting for me in the courtroom.

“Don’t I get to talk to him before we go to court?”

The guard shrugged.

Ten minutes later, I was brought in an elevator to a crowded courtroom, where I was seated in the jury box with two male prisoners. One was muscular and heavily tattooed. The other was slight, much older, and might’ve looked distinguished had he not been unshaven and wearing prison blues. They both nodded politely to me.

The judge, an African-American woman who wore pearls over her black robe, was already on the bench, hearing another case. The courtroom was full, but I didn’t see the one face I was searching for. Connor must be here somewhere. Maybe he was in the hallway, talking to my lawyer.

A woman approached the jury box and leaned down to whisper. She had a round face and dimples and looked younger than I did.

“Hey, Tabitha, I’m Courtney McCarthy. I’m a lawyer for Levitt Global. Your husband asked me to represent you today at your bail hearing.”

“Oh, thank God. Where is he?”

I craned my neck to see past her, scanning the benches for Connor.

“He asked me to send his apologies. He couldn’t make it to this hearing.”

Anxiety beat in my chest. First like a flutter, then, as I absorbed her words, like the roar of a giant wave.

“What? No! No, that’s not possible. I’m in jail. How could he just leave me here?”

She glanced up at the bench nervously, motioning with her hand for me to keep my voice down.

“I’m sorry. He didn’t share his reason with me. There is kind of a media circus outside the courthouse right now. Maybe he thought it wouldn’t be helpful for him to contribute to that?”

“I’m arrested for murder, and he doesn’t show up to court because he’s afraid of getting his picture taken?”

What could that mean? Was he abandoning me? Did he believe I was guilty? I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. I doubled over, holding my stomach, tears prickling behind my eyes.

“You go call him. Call him right now. Tell him I need him here.”

“Uh, I’m worried they’ll call the case when I’m out, and I’ll get in trouble with the judge.”

“What are you, five years old? Do it.”

She flushed. “Fine, if you insist.”

She left the courtroom, returning mere moments later.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t get through,” she whispered.

“Did you really try?”

“Yes, I tried. And look, I know it’s disappointing, but he’s very busy.”

“He’s my fucking husband, and I’m arrested for murder. What reason could he possibly have for not showing up?”

“I’d be speculating to answer that. I honestly don’t know the reason. Looking on the bright side, I’m here, so you’re represented. Though I ought to advise you, I’m really a corporate attorney. My only criminal background is one course in law school, and I’m wondering if it wouldn’t be smarter to—”