“Apparently there were some issues,” the female officer said. “The board removed him.”
“It’s possible he stopped at the retreat to check in,” the male officer said. “But prior to that he also checked into the Plaza. They have him on surveillance video. He was supposed to check out on Monday. When he didn’t, housekeeping overrode the do-not-disturb and went in. They found all his personal belongings, passport included. No sign of him.”
The female officer held up a Moleskine notebook in a plastic bag. “They also found this journal, an accounting of hisday-to-day, um, activities while he was here. It reveals his emotional state, in detail.” She nodded at her partner.
“Were you having a relationship with Brooks Grace?”
Gretchen shot the man a scathing look. “No, of course not.”
The officer proceeded undeterred. “He seemed to think you were.”
“I don’t understand.”
“His wife hasn’t heard from him, but they’ve apparently been separated for several weeks. There’s been no activity on his cell phone since late last Wednesday night. The signal dropped—turned off, destroyed. Or the battery died. Hard to say. No further use of his credit cards, either,” the male officer said. “And you haven’t heard from him?”
Late last Wednesday. The time Frankie was killed.
“Mrs. Falk?”
“I haven’t heard from him, no. As I said, we’ve had our hands full. It’s possible I missed something, but I really don’t think so.”
The female officer frowned. “Relationship or no—seems like, from the journal, you’ve certainly been Brooks’s real focus while he was here.”
Gretchen pressed her fist to her stomach, trying to stem the rising tide of nausea. “What do you mean?”
The woman’s eyes were filled with concern. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but he’s been following you, recording your movements. Seems like he was…obsessed.”
I always did love Gretchen. From the very start, even when we were little kids. Who wouldn’t love her? And I did always believe we would eventually be together. Even after she and Richard got together. Once they were married…I did start to lose faith. But even then, I’ve got to be honest, I figured eventually we’d find our way back to each other.
And I knew—I just knew she felt the same way. She was always, always hinting at it. I mean, who stayed friends with a guy that way unless there were some kind of other feelings going on? And every time we talked about her marriage, I could tell she was fishing around to see if I’d leave Melinda…
She and I are simply meant to be. Especially now. Because, yeah, the rest of my life is kind of shit at the moment. Did I ever imagine getting pushed out of my own fucking company? For erratic behavior, no fucking less? And then there’s the money. Yeah, sure, the influx from Van’s restaurants is helpful. But it’s not enough.
But as far as I’m concerned, it’s all a sign that now is the time for Gretchen and me. That our life can finally start.
And Frankie and Richard can ride off into the sunset, too.
It’ll be a happily ever after for everyone.
Before
Frankie
September 10
“Don’t look so worried!” Brooks barks out a strange laugh that makes him seem completely fucking deranged. “We can help each other, Frankie. That’s why I’m here.”
“Brooks, you need to leave.” My voice is trembling. Sweat has gathered on my upper lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you need to get out of my apartment. Right now.” I motion toward the door.
Space between us. That’s what I need. But Brooks doesn’t budge. And he’s still blocking my path to the door. I think again of Van.
“You were here earlier?” I ask, trying to distract him as I take a step back. I adjust my fingers on the handle of the knife, try to imagine using it. But my palms are damp. My grip could easily slip. “In my apartment this morning?”
“I’m here now so that we can both get what we want. You with Richard. Me with Gretchen,” he says, ignoring my question. “The second I realized it was you on that mountain, I knew. And then Richard got so fixated on you—and the answer was clear.Youwere the answer. To all my problems.”
“Oh my God. You knew the Senator?”
“The Senator, yeah.” He smirks. “Adam used to drinka lot. Back when we worked together at Sinclair, Williams. And he talked way too much,” he says, his mouth twitching. “Ironic, given the NDA.”
