“Leave. So he killed her.”
“Did you pull the marriage certificate?”
Carol frowns. “No, but… why would that help?”
“What does marriage lead to?”
“Babies?”
“Divorce.”
“They weren’t divorced, were they?”
“No. But I’m playing a hunch, and something tells me I’m right.”
Carol watches over my shoulder as I run my search, and it doesn’t take long. The list of cases it returns is short, and there’s only one entry for Van Wyk v. Van Wyk. I click into it, and check the docket summary.
We both stare at the screen.
I think of Amelia’s eyes, composed but hollow. I think of Juliette, who tried to leave.
“So she wants to divorce him, and he kills her.” Carol voices the obvious conclusion.
“Juliette instigated it, then discontinued it. And it’s not litigationagainsther. That’s why it didn’t show up on our other searches.”
“Yeah,” Carol murmurs. “Who looks for something that doesn’t exist?”
“I do, I suppose.” I lean back into the sofa, chewing my lip. It’s not proof, but it’s sure as hell nocoincidence. “I can’t believe the investigation into her death missed this.”
“I can,” Carol says, then shrugs when I look at her. “Police respond to a suicide, and they look for foul play, right? No signs of that, then there’s no investigation.”
“No foul play?” I echo. “She was stabbedin the throat.”
“By a man who kills for a living—assuming that’s what he does. You think he can’t fake a suicide in his own house?” Carol shifts on her seat. “If he’s that good, why didn’t he kill her somewhere else? Hide the body.”
“Missing-person investigation involving a spouse? They’d definitely go digging then.”
“Yeah, I suppose.” She looks at me, eyes mournful, that puppy-dog expression she wears when she’s about to tell me there’s no more ice-cream.
“What?” I say, cautiously.
Carol hesitates, wincing. “Shut me down if I’m out of line, but… is it wrong to draw the obvious parallels here?”
“What parallels?” But I know what she’s going to ask. I’ve been avoiding it, but I can’t any longer. The question I’ve been refusing to acknowledge.
“If Alex finds out… uh…whenhe finds out you’re going to leave him—for thesecondtime, no less—what willhe do?”
That evening, I text Alex, explain I’m staying at Carol’s and we’re doing a girlie thing, and that I’ve got my period.
He calls within twenty seconds.
“Come home. I’ll run you a bath.”
Damn me for reacting to that every time.
I take a moment to steady myself. “That’s really sweet of you, but I’ve already had one and we’ve broken out the ice cream.” I let my voice drop. “We’re already a quarter of the way intoBridget Jones’s Diary, and Carol would be devastated if I left now.”
Across the room, Carol mimes vomiting, then crosses to the bookshelf and pulls outStarship Troopers,waving it at me.
