This was what Zach wanted, maybe even what he’d planned from the start: this moment. The one when he got to really embarrass me, the way I had embarrassed him all those years ago. When he finally got to win.
Unbeknownst to him, I already knew much of what he was telling me—though not the bit about him spying on me through my windows. I’d brought in my personal laptop to the investigators I knew in the Manhattan US attorney’s cybercrime unit. Within seconds they’d found the spyware Zach had installed. I’d felt humiliated that I’d fallen for it so easily, but the kind twentysomething tech investigator kept saying: “Yeah, seriously, it could happen to anyone. It does all the time.”
Then I’d contacted the New York City Bar Association’s Ethics Hotline for anonymous advice about how I could proceed under the circumstances without being disbarred. From now on, everything I did would at least be clear-eyed and aboveboard.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that thing you said,” I went on.
“What’s that?” Zach asked, delighted that I was willing to play.
“About how it’s more important to know somebody’s weaknesses than their strengths.”
“Ah, yes,” Zach said. “I do think that’s true.”
I pressed both of my hands on the table for a moment, looking down, nodding. Finally, I stood. “You know what your weakness is, Zach?”
He smiled. So fucking satisfied. “No, Lizzie. By all means, tell me: What’s my weakness?”
“You think people are things you can win.”
He frowned. “I don’t know. I’d say things have turned out okay for me in the end.”
“Your wife is dead,” I said, but Zach didn’t even flinch. “Also, cyber fraud is a federal crime.”
“Come on, Lizzie.” He laughed. “Even if you wanted to tell them what I just told you, you can’t. You’re my lawyer, remember. Attorney-client privilege? You’d be disbarred. And I know you care way more about your job than you do about going after me.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Zach.” I shook my head and frowned. “Maybe you should have paid more attention in law school. Because that malware you had the Brooklyn Country Day parents download is still on some of their computers. Your team is still using it to blackmail new families and the person who exploited that fifteen-year-old is still contacting her. That means this crime of yours is ongoing, so what you just admitted falls within the crime-fraud exception to attorney-client privilege. As your lawyer, I’m not obligated to keep quiet about crimes you are still in the process of committing.” I leaned in close to the plexiglass. “So enjoy your time on the outside, Zach. It won’t last for long.”
Name: Kerry W. Tanner New York City Police Dept.
Address: 571 2nd St. Brooklyn 11215 Borough of Brooklyn
Date of Birth: 6/28/71 Date: July 15th
Age: 48 Time: 3:00 pm
Telephone: 718.555.2615 Case Number: 62984415
I, Kerry W. Tanner, willingly and voluntarily give this statement to Detective Robert Mendez, who I know to be a member of the New York City Police Department. I know that I do not need to give a statement and that any statement can be used against me in a court of law. Prior to giving this statement, I was read my Miranda rights. I understand those rights and I signed a separate written waiver of my Miranda rights before making this statement.
I am making a statement here today about this situation because I love my wife, Sarah, and she asked me to. So maybe this whole thing can be resolved without a trial. We’ve been together for more than thirty years and Sarah is everything to me. We have a good marriage. I love my sons, too. What happened was a terrible, terrible accident. But it was an accident. Obviously, I didn’t kill anyone.
Amanda and I were friends. Close friends. She got to know my wife, Sarah, first. Over time we developed feelings for each other. I didn’t mean for that to happen and it doesn’t change how much I love Sarah. Some things you just can’t control. Over months, Amanda and I started doing little things for each other to express our affection. Amanda would buy me thoughtful gifts and I did things to help her because her husband was never around. He’s an asshole, that guy. Anyway, for months our relationship got closer in this secret special way. It made me feel good about myself. Amanda made me feel good.
But then Sebe, this other friend of ours—I think maybe he was trying to get in between us. He has an open marriage. And I couldn’t let that happen.
I didn’t even plan on seeing Amanda that night or going to the party. But then my basketball game got canceled and I went for a few drinks and one thing led to another. I ended up leaving with one of the other guys who I think has some kind of drinking problem. He wanted to rest on a bench on the way to Sebe and Maude’s because he was so wasted and ended up passing out. So I left him there and went myself. I was just going to stop by the party. I didn’t want Sarah to see me because she’d spend the whole night dragging me around to talk to people. I love my wife, but so does everyone else. I just wanted to see Amanda and I did, but then somebody told me later she’d disappeared upstairs with Sebe. I’ll admit I kind of snapped.
I knew if I sent her a couple texts she’d go home. I just wanted her to see that she needed me. I thought if I created a little situation where Amanda got scared, I could take off and then come right back to her rescue. Luckily, I happened to have a few things with me in my gym bag that I could use so she wouldn’t know it was me. That’s what I mean—obviously I thought she’d be fine after. Otherwise why would I care if she knew it was me?
None of it happened the way it was supposed to, though. Amanda completely freaked out. Started hitting me. We were on the stairs at the time. I had to defend myself. And then she just fell. It was an accident. She hit her head on the railing. And then she came to and stood up and slipped. She hit her head again on the stairs. That kept happening. A bunch of times. Until finally she stopped moving. There was so much blood everywhere.
I panicked and ran. I was going to call an ambulance but all I could think about was my family. I really do love Sarah more than anything. I have never been unfaithful to her. Unlike Sebe and all the other guys who go to that swapping party, I would never have sex with another woman.
After I left Amanda’s house, I ran toward the park to pull myself together. That was when I saw Amanda’s earring hooked on my sleeve and some blood on the back of my hand. I was careful to walk around everything, but I must have brushed the wall trying to get down the stairs. My friend was still passed out. I could see him up ahead, his leg hanging over the end of the bench. So I stuck Amanda’s earring in his pocket, and put a little blood on his shoe. I was panicked like I said, not thinking clearly. And he didn’t do it anyway. I knew the police would figure that out eventually. All I could think about was my family. And doing what I had to, to protect them.
The above statement was given freely and voluntarily by me. I have read the above statement and it is true and correct to the best of my knowledge.
Lizzie
JULY 15, WEDNESDAY
Sam was waiting outside Young & Crane’s office building when I finally got back from Rikers. He had a small duffel bag on the bench next to him. Sunglasses on, his face turned toward the setting sun. He’s leaving me, I thought.
Sad. That was how I felt. Sad that Sam wanted to leave. Sad that I knew it might not be the worst thing for either one of us. Where could we possibly go from here? So much damage done. Sam had admitted he could have been unfaithful. I had believed him capable of murder. I’d been desperate to prove it wasn’t true, sure. But I had entertained the possibility. And what of the things I had done? All the times I had turned a blind eye to Sam’s drinking under the guise of loving him. Not to mention all my own lies.
I sat down next to Sam. I closed my eyes, too, and turned my own face toward the sun. We sat there like that, side by side in the glow. Silent, for a long time. Finally Sam reached over and took my hand.
“Going somewhere?” I asked.
�
�Yeah,” he said. “It’s ninety days to start. That’s the minimum.”
I opened my eyes and turned to look at him. “Really?”
“It’s all arranged. I called my mom. She’s paying. And, you know, she was surprisingly kind about it. In that noncommittal way of hers. Not sure she’ll actually tell my father. But maybe that’s for the best,” Sam said. He sighed. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry … about everything.”
I squeezed Sam’s hand. “Me too.”
“I’m going to fix this,” Sam went on. “Or at least, I’m going to fix me. I promise.” Sam hesitated, looked down. “I promise to try.”
My throat felt tight. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s made mistakes.”
Sam turned to look at me. “What do you mean?”
The full story about my dad was too much to explain in that moment, and there was so much I hadn’t decided—how much I owed my dad, how much I owed myself. But I had no doubt anymore that a lie of omission was a lie all the same. And I wasn’t lying anymore, not to anyone.
I shook my head. “It’s not something about us. It’s about my family, but it’s something you have a right to know. That you had a right to know, from the start. Especially because it’s been with us this whole time. It’ll keep, though, I promise. What matters now is that you get better. You need to focus on that,” I said. “Just know that I’m not perfect either. I never have been.”
We were quiet once more.
“Do you think if I do this, if I can do this, it’ll be enough?” Sam asked.
For us to make it, he meant. And so I searched his eyes for a future neither of us could possibly see. Then I did the only thing that felt right: I leaned forward and kissed him. And I told him the truth.
“I hope so.”
Acknowledgments
My deepest gratitude to my extremely wise and insightful editor, Jennifer Barth. Thank you for understanding immediately what this book was supposed to be. I will be forever grateful for your keen editorial perspective, remarkable tenacity, and tireless commitment that got it all the way there. I’m lucky to have had the privilege to work with you.
Thank you to the brilliant Jonathan Burnham and the generous Doug Jones for your continued support and dedication—I’m thrilled to call Harper my home. Thank you to everyone in the marketing, publicity, sales, and library departments for all your unsung efforts on my behalf. A special shout-out to my publicity and marketing dynamic duo: Leslie Cohen and Katie O’Callaghan. Ladies, you are rock stars. Thanks also to Sarah Ried for your assistance, and to production editor Lydia Weaver, copy editor Miranda Ottewell, and the rest of the Harper managing editorial team for working so hard to turn this idea of mine into a real live book. A special thank-you to Robin Bilardello for such a gorgeous cover.
To my genius agent, Dorian Karchmar—thank you, for so many things. Most especially, for understanding me and my work intuitively, then constantly striving to make every sentence—which you could surely now recite from memory—as good as it could possibly be. I am extremely fortunate to have such a superbly gifted creative partner. Thank you to my marvelous film agent, Anna DeRoy, for your astute observations and unflagging commitment. Thanks also to Matilda Forbes Watson and James Munro. And to Alex Kane and everyone else at WME: I’m grateful for your hard work.
To my kick-ass lawyer and dear friend, Victoria Cook, thank you for your shrewd advice and the years of love. Thanks also to the wonderful Mark Merriman. Thank you, Hannah Wood, for your sage comments and for always being there to lend a hand. And to Katherine Faw for saving the day—and me—repeatedly.
Sincerest thanks to tenacious and kind criminal defense attorney Eric Franz, who patiently gave so much of himself throughout the writing of this book, answering endless questions, letting me attend hearings, and never making me feel like a bother—even when I couldn’t find my car registration at Rikers. Eric, your dedication and skills are truly remarkable, which is why I will definitely be calling you should I ever get arrested. Thanks also to Aviva Franz, who made me feel like family, and Gulnora Tali, who made me feel like part of the team.
Thank you to Allyson Meierhans, former Bronx County Assistant District Attorney, for going through the manuscript with a fine-tooth comb, then gently pointing out my many missteps. Your advice was invaluable. To William “Billy” McNeely, who was also kind enough to read large parts of this manuscript and answer emails and have long phone calls—thank you for helping me get the details right. There would have been no substitute for your wisdom.
To these other outstanding experts and incredibly generous humans who so patiently answered my occasionally stupid, often randomly specific questions, or who found me someone who could: I am indebted to all of you—David Fischer, Andrew Gallo, Dr. Tara Galovski, Hallie Levin, Teresa Maloney, Dr. Theo Manschreck, Brendan McGuire, Daniel Rodriguez, Professor Linda C. Rourke, David Schumacher, and Ron Stanilus.
Thank you to Marco Ricci, Jim Hoppin, and Beowulf Sheehan for sharing your creative gifts.
Boundless love to Megan Crane, Heather Frattone, Nicole Kear, Tara Pometti, and Motoko Rich—your excellence as early readers is surpassed only by your fabulous friendship. I’d like to say I won’t be asking any of you lovelies to read another early draft, but that would be a lie. A most special thank-you to the wonderful, warm, and always generous Elena Evangelo for your kind help. Thank you to Nike Arrowolo—there would be no words here at all were it not for your warmth and hard work.
Thank you to my family and many dear friends who are always so supportive: it means more to me than you will ever know. A special thank-you to Martin and Clare Prentice for all you have done.
Thank you, Emerson, for your patience, and for being such a wonderful example of what it means to be fierce. And thank you, Harper, for amazing me daily with your brilliance and your beauty. I live in awe of both of you.
And to Tony: thank you for absolutely everything else.
THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
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Copyright © Kimberly McCreight, 2020
Kimberly McCreight has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in Great Britain by Arrow Books in 2020
www.penguin.co.uk
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9781473584099
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