All the Dark Places(85)

“Any news?” she asks.

“No,” I say. “Where’s your husband?”

She pulls her phone from her purse, scans the screen. There’s a furrow between her eyebrows as she types. “I’ve left him several messages.” Her red-rimmed eyes meet mine. “He’s not always where he has a signal, but he’ll get back to me as soon as he can, Detective.” She sticks her phone in her jacket pocket. Her fingers twitch as if yearning for a cigarette.

I ask her again where they were after the party last night, and she insists they were at home. That’s it. She’s his alibi.

Dr. Westmore clears her throat. “You must know something by now.” Her voice escalates. “Corrine’s frantic.”

“We’re doing everything we can,” Joe says, his dark eyes intently assessing her.

“Well, I can’t imagine where Molly could be.” She wrings her shaking hands. “I need to go,” she says, and stands abruptly. “I can leave, can’t I?”

“Yes. But call as soon as you hear from your husband,” I say.

She nods. From the lines on her face to her body language, she looks about a whisper from a breakdown.

“I’ll be at Molly’s house,” she says. “I told Corrine I’d meet her there.”

“She could probably use the company,” Joe says.

Dr. Westmore nods and hurries down the hall.





CHAPTER 66


Molly


“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?” I ASK IN A STRANGLED WHISPER. “Why, Cal?”

He shakes his head. “You’ll understand, Melinda, eventually.”

I clear my throat, gather my wits. “Where’s Sadie?”

“Who?”

“My dog.” My stomach is in knots. How can this be real? How can my captor be our friend? None of this makes sense.

“I have no idea.”

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” I cry.

He brushes my hair away from my face, and his fingers lightly linger on my cheek. “I didn’t touch her, Melinda. I wouldn’t hurt an animal.”

I shudder and take a deep breath, trying to pull it deep into my chest, trying to clear my head of this craziness. “Did you kill Jay?” It comes out in a hoarse whisper.

Cal straightens up, lets go a deep sigh. “He gave me no choice. He found the necklace. He was going to go to the police.”

Why, Jay, didn’t you go straight there? I ask myself. As if Cal could read my thoughts he continues.

“He wasn’t sure, of course. He found the necklace on the basement floor when he went up to fix the window. It was dark when I cleaned up in July, and I missed it. Jay told me he’d found it when he came back from Mountclair. He said he wanted to talk to me, so I knew. I told him I’d meet him in his office, later, after the party.”

I clench my cold fingers into fists. “Why would you kill him, Cal?” I’m sobbing. “He was your friend. And what did that woman ever do to you?”

“It all runs much deeper than that. Everything goes way back, Melinda.”

“Stop calling me that!” My voice comes out high and childlike.

He chuckles.

I clear my throat, brush away tears with cold, rigid fingers. “Tell me then.” Anything to keep him talking. Give myself time to figure this out. And hopefully, the police are looking for me by now. I need to give them time to find me.

“All right. Might as well since it’s run its course. It’s all at an end now.” He settles back, runs his fingers under his glasses. “When I was thirteen, living in Hartford with my mother and father, I started getting interested in true crime. My mother, a vicious bitch, took out all her frustrations on me. My brother had been her target, but then he left, and she turned on me. She liked to humiliate me, make me feel small, like a nothing, like dog shit on the bottom of her shoe. She told me I was a nobody. Would always be a nobody. Anyway, I used to hide in our basement, which my dad had finished with thin carpet and paneled walls, a TV. I started watching true crime stories, and I found my way. I found something that spoke to me. Women bound and dominated. Then killed. It was . . . satisfying. Anyway, I followed your story, and I was enthralled. I researched you, cut out every article, and found out you’d moved to Boston. When the time came for me to go to college, I followed you here.”

“This was about me?” I shudder. My mouth falls open.

“Oh, yes.” His voice shakes. “All for you, Melinda. I tried to forget you. I met Laken in college, and we hit it off. She was the only woman who could beat me at tennis.” He smiles. “I decided that I needed to let you go. End my obsession. It wasn’t healthy. Lake and I graduated, got married. Her family’s pretty wealthy, as you know. It was a different life. A good life, far from my dark basement in Hartford. Laken and I spent time skating, skiing, sailing. We were always active, busy, and I was happy enough. Then the boys came along, and I thought, I can do this. I can leave my depraved thoughts and fantasies in the past. But,” he sighs, “the shine kind of wore off. Work got busy and full of stress. I looked you up one day.” He grins at me. “Wasn’t easy since you have no social media. Smart, Melinda, but people don’t realize that they still have an internet presence. Anyway, I discovered you were living in Graybridge, just a few miles from where Laken and I were living. What luck, huh?