Every Last Secret(66)
“Take it easy. It’ll take a few minutes to get your bearings.”
“You’ve been out for a while,” Detective Cullen said cheerfully. “Fainted and then went right to sleep. You missed all the excitement.” She tapped the folder next to her. “We cataloged everything in the safe. I got to say, Neena, you got me excited about the contents, but there’s not a whole lot there.”
I stared at the folder, unsure of what mind game she was going through. I didn’t have the mental stamina for this. If she had opened the safe, then she had me. I should be in handcuffs and headed to the station, not sitting here listening to her crunch through a bacon-and-egg sandwich as if it were her job.
“We went through everything.” She licked the tip of her right index finger, then did another mouth swipe with the napkin. “And I think I found the source of your anxiety.”
She flipped open the top flap of the folder and shuffled a few pages aside. “You really do have a wonderful husband.”
I thought of Matt, his face red, features angry as he had wrapped his hands around my father’s neck. The silent gape of my father’s mouth. The wild swing of his arms. The bulge of his eyes as he had stared at me, begging me, all the way until the moment they rolled back into his head.
“Yes,” I managed, “I do.”
“How long have you and Mr. Winthorpe been having an affair?”
That shut me up, and I hated the way she said the word. Affair. As if it were something fleeting and dirty. This was a righting of the axle, the putting of everything into place. I belonged with someone like William. And furthermore, I liked the emotional chess game that stealing Cat Winthorpe’s husband entailed. I was going to have him as my husband or his money as my cushion—before today anyone could have looked at the playing board and seen it all.
I pondered which angle to attack this from. “You’re confused,” I finally managed. “William Winthorpe is my employer. Any relationship we have is strictly a professional one.”
“As is so clearly evident by your photo montage upstairs,” she said dryly. “Now”—she flipped over another page—“five million dollars. That’s a nice little parting gift to leave a wife.”
It took me a moment to understand that she was talking about Matt’s life insurance policy. “So?” I shrugged.
“So . . . when we look at your obsession with William Winthorpe, that life insurance policy, and this, it equals motive.”
This seemed to be indicated by the paper she slid forward. Matt’s will and testament. Unlike mine, it was a simple one-page document, devoid of any confessions and secrets. His was entirely focused on the distribution of all his assets, his demolition company, and his life insurance policy. It all went to me, which made logical sense.
I paused, waiting for more. Waiting for my own will to be slid beside his, the guilty beside the innocent. Nothing came, and I stared blankly at her. “That’s it?”
The detective smiled thinly, and there was a dot of pepper in her teeth. “I’m sorry, Dr. Ryder. You seem to be struggling to catch up, so I’ll spell out the elements of motive.” She held up the index finger of her left hand. “Money. You stand to inherit a five-million-dollar life insurance policy and significant assets upon Matt’s death. That alone would be powerful, but you’re impressive enough to have a second motive.” She flipped out her middle finger to join the first, making a peace sign. “Your obsession and pursuit of William Winthorpe. With your husband out of the way, you could go after a richer, better-looking one, though I do have to say, you’re barking up a formidable tree that is guarded by Cat Winthorpe.”
“But . . .” I stared down at the papers before her, still stunned that this seemed to be all they had. “But you don’t have anything.”
She let out a strangled laugh. “I would hardly say that. Granted, from your husband’s broad declaration and your resistance to opening the safe . . . I had expected something a little more incriminating, but it’s more than enough for me to bring you down to the station for questioning.”
“Questioning for what?” I still wasn’t following this. Where was the gold envelope with my will? Why wasn’t she going over it line by line? Calling in cadaver dogs and cold-case files? If they hadn’t found that envelope, what were they arresting me for?
“For the attempted murder of your husband.” She cocked her head at me as if she were confused. “Should we be questioning you for something else?”
CHAPTER 46
CAT
Kelly called me twice, her voice mails filled with concern and giddy intrigue over the police presence dotting the Ryders’ property. This would be the most exciting thing to happen to Atherton since the Bakers’ disappearance. Add in the fact that this was on the same property, and we officially had the most notorious block in the neighborhood. We might need to buy and bulldoze the house just to retain our property value.
I deleted her voice mails and watched as the police car containing Neena pulled out of the drive. She had been put in the back seat, handcuffs on, in the rigid pose of the detained. Their garage door was still open, her SUV in its spot, Matt’s car still missing. Where had he gone after he had confronted William? Our guesthouse was prepped and empty, but I had a feeling he’d rather sleep in the street than on William’s property. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, finding his name, and the number I had never used. I typed out a text.