The Wife Stalker(2)

“In their rooms, playing.”

“Why don’t you sit down and join me?”

He shook his head, his expression serious. “No. I think I’ll go inside and rest for a bit.”

I tried not to show my exasperation. “Leo. The sun and sea air will do you some good. Come sit.”

He sighed reluctantly. This is how he’d been the last few months—keeping to himself, sleeping most of the time, or staring off into space. Finally, he stepped onto the deck and took the lounge chair next to mine, but he looked straight ahead at the water, not saying a word. I put my hand on his arm.

“Leo, let’s try to make this trip a good one for Stelli and Evie. They love it here. It would be good to make some happy memories for them.”

He continued to stare at the water. “I’ll try, Joanna. I know I’ve not been the easiest person to be around these last months.” He turned to look at me and attempted a weak smile. “You’ve been wonderful, you really have, and I’m grateful. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Even though we’d been together for many years, it was still a thrill to hear those words, to know he appreciated me. There was no one I cared about more than him and the children, and I was relieved to see that he was starting to come back to me.

“I will always be here for you, Leo. No matter what,” I said.

Tears filled his eyes, and he blinked, then turned to hide them from me. Seeing him like this made me hope he was emotionally prepared for this case, which would be another high-profile one. I’d been telling him it might be good for him to get counseling, but he wasn’t interested, even when I reminded him how much it had helped me. My therapist, Celeste, advised me not to push him, so I’d backed off. But after something he’d said in passing, a possible solution occurred to me. I just had to figure out a way to frame it so that it sounded like a good idea to him, too.





3

Piper




After teaching her nine o’clock yoga class, Piper went back to her office to work on her new blog post. The alarm on her phone sounded, reminding her of her next appointment, and she barely had time to throw a shirt over her sports bra and yoga pants before there was a tap on her office door.

“Hello, come in,” she said, rising from her chair.

As Leo Drakos walked in, she was immediately struck by his dark good looks and brooding eyes, and when he put his hand out to shake hers, she took in his well-groomed nails and firm grip. Then her eyes traveled to his perfectly tailored gray suit and starched white shirt, silver cuff links, and paisley Zegna necktie—the same brand Matthew had always worn. In the pictures she’d seen of Leo Drakos online, she had thought he was nice-looking enough, but his charisma came across in person in a whole different way.

“Thank you for making time for me so quickly, Ms. Reynard.” His voice was deep and pleasant, and she felt herself not wanting to let go of his hand.

“Of course. I’m glad to help in any way I can. But please, call me Piper. Won’t you have a seat?” She indicated a deep-cushioned armchair, and Leo waited for Piper to sit before settling himself into it.

“As I told you on the phone, my client, Fred Grainger, has authorized me to speak with you about the time he’s spent here, in addition to his work in AA.”

Piper nodded. “Yes, when he told me, I had him sign a release.”

“He worked through some addiction issues here with you, is that right?”

“Yes,” she said. “He was very committed to the process. Worked very hard.”

“Was he receiving any counseling here in addition to the recovery work?”

Piper shook her head. “We don’t offer one-on-one therapy sessions here, but work on a group approach.” She could have filled him in more but didn’t want to sound like too much of an expert. Her new identity here in Westport didn’t include a master’s in clinical psychology from Pepperdine and her work at a private practice in San Diego.

“He’s been coming here for six months, right?”

“Regularly—twice a week, in addition to his AA meetings. I have the records here.” She indicated the file folder in her lap. “He needed a place that was safe, where people listened without judgment or condemnation.” She paused and smiled at Leo. “You know, it’s what everyone needs, really—a place where they can spill their insides and let it all out. It’s like a cleansing of the soul. All of us have wounds we bury deep inside, and they affect us without our even realizing it.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Do you . . .” He put a hand up and shook his head. “Back to Fred. Did he do well here?”

She sat up straighter, giving him a professional nod. “Fred made great progress and stayed clean and sober. I believe he truly wants to turn his life around.”

“I agree,” Leo said with a nod. “We’re going to need character witnesses. Would you be willing to testify?”

Piper shifted in her chair, thinking of all the possible ramifications of taking the stand in a high-profile murder case. “Well . . . it might be better if some of my staff did, specifically Morgan Timmons. He worked more closely with Fred. I oversaw his progress, but Morgan had more direct interaction.”

“Okay, then. Could I speak with Mr. Timmons today?”