Madison went to bed willingly, but Dylan grumbled about having to go so early.
“This is unfair,” he told Cassie as she shepherded them down the hallway.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“There was something I wanted to watch tonight.”
“Perhaps we can record it and you can watch tomorrow? I’ll ask your mum if you can have some extra time.”
Cassie was relieved that he wasn’t angry at her, because after what she was planning to say to his mother, he would have every right to be. She couldn’t protect him at her own expense, and would have to voice her suspicions to Trish.
Cassie knew she’d have to make very sure that Dylan was not listening in while she did so, because he was a light sleeper, and seemed to know far more about what was going on than he should.
For a moment, she felt sick with dread.
“Good night,” she said in a cheerful voice, but Dylan looked at her strangely, as if he saw right through her act and sensed her intent.
After making sure the children’s bedroom doors were firmly closed, Cassie headed back to the kitchen. She was dreading this discussion with Trish, and hoped that she might lead the way and share her thoughts with Cassie first.
When she walked into the kitchen, she was surprised to see it empty.
“I’m heading outside,” Trish called.
Cassie spun around.
Trish was standing at the living room door, wearing a stylish parka. She was holding a tray with a bottle of white wine and two glasses.
Cassie hadn’t expected this invitation, and it made her feel deeply uneasy. She didn’t want to sit on that balcony ever again. It was too full of memories. Why weren’t they going to chat in the kitchen?
Then it came to her. Trish must be concerned about the children overhearing. If they closed the balcony door—which she and Ryan had never done—it would be more private outside.
“You needn’t worry,” Trish said, obviously misunderstanding the reason for Cassie’s hesitation. “I bought this bottle today, at the off-license in town. It won’t have been tampered with.”
“I didn’t—” Cassie began, and then simply said, “I’ll get my jacket.”
She ran to her room, grabbed her jacket, and headed outside.
As she’d expected, Trish closed the balcony door behind them.
The night was very still; there was no wind whatsoever, only the faraway crash of the sea.
“What a day it’s been,” Trish said. “I’m glad it’s over. They say after a tragedy you just have to take things hour by hour, day by day. Now I understand what they mean.”
She poured two large glasses of wine and handed one to Cassie.
“It’s been a waking nightmare,” Cassie said. “I’m so sorry about all of this.”
“It’s not your fault. What a weird scenario, both of us being together out here. I know you had drinks with Ryan a few times.”
Cassie felt as if she were plunging into an abyss of guilt. Remembering those carefree evenings, those kisses, how she had felt as if she were falling in love. What a betrayal the whole episode had been, for so many people, in so many ways.
“If I’d known, I never would have done it.”
She couldn’t meet Trish’s eyes, but instead stared out at the dark sea.
“What did he say to you?”
Now she turned, regarding Trish with apprehension.
“How do you mean?”
Trish sipped her wine.
“I would like to know what he said to you. About me, about our situation. To you, about you. I’ve been feeling torn up about this, so much that I’ve been unable to sleep. I need closure. I actually visited a psychologist today and he advised that I should talk to you. He said it would help both of us to heal.”
Cassie took a deep breath. She had been doing her best to forget what had been said, and what had been done. She’d never imagined having to share the details of their conversation. On the other hand, she could imagine how devastated Trish must be, knowing she’d been part of such a huge web of lies.
If the psychologist advised it, Cassie guessed she would have to go along with it and hope that the truth would indeed be cathartic.
“When I first phoned Ryan about the job, I wasn’t sure if I wanted it. I think he sensed that and looked for a way to convince me. Saying he was divorced was playing the sympathy card, I guess. He did it very cleverly. He said the kids were traumatized and didn’t want to talk about it and I shouldn’t pressure them. So as a result I never mentioned it to them and I only figured out what was happening after you came back.”
Relating the story, Cassie felt deeply ashamed by how gullible she’d been.
“So what did he tell you?”
Cassie was glad it was dark, as she found herself blushing as she remembered what he’d said.
“That you were a strong person, but that you’d become needier as the kids had grown older, and you’d grown apart emotionally. He made it sound as if you had already moved out. I asked about your clothes after I found them in the cupboard, and he said that you hadn’t taken all of them. Everything was explained away.”
Trish nodded.
“What about our vow renewal? Did he mention that?”
“Did you actually have it?” Cassie asked, surprised, then caught herself. Of course its cancellation must have been another of Ryan’s lies.
“Oh, yes. It was a big event. We had a hundred invited guests. My colleagues, Ryan’s colleagues, my parents, his sister and brother. Ryan is estranged from his parents. He hasn’t seen them for many years. His father wanted him to go to the Navy and Ryan refused; that’s when the conflict started.”
“Oh,” Cassie said, appalled by the extent of the falsehoods she’d ended up believing.
“He told me he was in the Navy and ended up as a captain.”
“Pure fiction,” Trish said sadly. “Anyway, the vow renewal was held, and it was a big success. I paid for it all. As I’m sure you have gathered, my substantial salary is what subsidizes our lifestyle. Ryan’s boats bring in pocket money, but not enough to make a meaningful difference to our finances, and his recent purchase of the yacht put him firmly in the red.”
Cassie nodded, remembering the loan agency letter, and thinking there might be some debts that even Trish didn’t know about.
“Anyway, back to you,” Trish continued. “When did you find out what was going on?”
“I guess the first time I knew anything was when you walked in.”
Cassie’s wine was finished. She’d been drinking fast, unsettled by the turn the conversation had taken. Trish leaned over and refilled it.
On an empty stomach, Cassie knew she’d better slow her drinking down, because she needed to keep her wits about her. She was already feeling lightheaded and garrulous.
“What did you think?” Trish asked.
“I assumed you’d come back to get some of your things. I never dreamed you lived here. I couldn’t believe it when you walked into the bedroom and I had no idea what I should do. Then I saw Ryan had changed the bed sheets.”
Cassie felt her face flaming again.
“Hiding the evidence,” Trish said with a bitter sigh.
“Yes. Now I see that. The problem was, Trish, that I believed him. I really did. I trusted what he said. So for a long time I was in total shock and every new revelation, I found a way to justify somehow.”
How stupid she’d been. Looking back, Cassie wished she’d given the situation more thought, instead of blindly accepting what she’d been told.
“You must have gone through a tough time during those few days,” Trish remarked, and Cassie was glad to hear the sympathy in her voice.
“I’ve been living in hell. Before you came back, I’d been certain that Ryan and I were going to start a life together. It felt like a fairytale, but at the same time, it was happening and he seemed so genuine. He gave me gifts. He told me that he loved me.”
Tears prickled
her eyes and she put her glass down to wipe them away. When she looked again, she saw Trish had topped it up and it was brimful once again.
“You must have been angry?” she asked.
“I was furious. I felt completely used. I’ve never been so ashamed in my life. I thought I was going mad. I felt betrayed. I realized how badly I’d been lied to and how stupid I’d been, and how skillfully he had—I guess, played me—to believe whatever he wanted me to.”
Trish nodded understandingly as Cassie continued.
“I could have killed him when I realized, I admit it. That’s how angry I was. I imagined throttling him, or taking a kitchen knife to him. It made me feel better to think about him dead. I wasn’t coping; I felt so helpless and enraged.”
Cassie let out a deep breath, glad that she was managing to be honest, even though it was with the help of more than half a bottle of wine. After all, when the conversation turned to the identity of the real suspect, she would need to be able to speak openly and not be scared of how Trish might react. And Trish would need to be completely honest with her, too.
“You haven’t told me everything,” Trish murmured, and Cassie frowned at her, perplexed. What more was there to share?
“How do you mean?”
“What was it like when you slept together? What did he do? Did you sleep together after I came back, or only while I was away?”
Cassie took another large gulp of wine.
How could she possibly disclose this? It was private and had no bearing on anything. Why did Trish need to know?
“Trish, I don’t think I should tell you that. I don’t—I don’t want you to be hurt. And details like that can be hurtful.”
“You don’t think that not knowing is the most painful of all?” Trish asked in a gentle voice.
Cassie shook her head.
“I’m not sure, but how can more information make it any better?”
She felt confused by the direction things were heading, and wondered if asking for these details had been part of the psychologist’s advice.
A moment later, Trish confirmed her thoughts.
“Dr. Mills told me that it would help.”
If the psychologist had recommended this, she had to try. Probably, Trish needed closure, too. Cassie hoped that her words would heal, rather than harm.
“He was a really good lover,” she said quietly. “At first it felt—I don’t know—a bit awkward to me because I was thirteen years younger than him and had been hired to help out. He made me feel like a princess. He knew exactly what to do.”
She glanced at Trish, hoping this would be enough, but Trish was watching her expectantly.
“Carry on,” she said.
“That’s it, really.” Cassie glanced at her appealingly but Trish shook her head.
“There must be more.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“You’ve told me what he did, but not what he said. Please share that,” Trish encouraged her.
With that, Ryan’s words, and his promises, came rushing back, and Cassie found she couldn’t hold the memories in.
“He told me how beautiful my body was, that he could imagine waking up with me every day of his life and was looking forward to doing that. He said I was special and unique. That I turned him on in a way nobody ever had.”
“Go on?” Trish said softly.
“We didn’t sleep together after you got back, but he kept promising me that everything was OK.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“Yes, we kissed a few times after you were back.”
“How about love? Did he ever tell you that?”
“He did. When I tried to leave one night, he told me that I needed to trust him, that he loved me. He gave me a diamond necklace then. I thought that was proof that he meant what he said—diamonds are forever, right?”
Cassie was breathing hard, reliving the anxiety and dismay she’d felt.
“Oh, poor Cassie. How angry you must have been when you realized those foundations were built on clay.”
“I was devastated.”
“Was that when you had the pregnancy scare?”
“Yes. I found out that it was only a scare, but it made everything even worse. It showed me how serious the consequences could have been. And it made me realize how alone I was.”
“So you confronted him?” Trish asked.
“By then I was furious. My car got vandalized the day before you came back. Wires were cut to disable the battery. I found out Ryan had done it and I think he was preparing for your arrival by making sure I couldn’t leave. He wanted a babysitter on site so that he could spend time with you.”
Trish frowned slightly.
“Vandalism? Are you sure he went that far?”
Cassie nodded miserably. “I’m certain. I found the tools he’d used, and some of the wire scraps, in the Land Rover’s cubbyhole. I don’t think he’d expected me to look there, but I did.”
“Then you called him a liar?”
“I called him out on everything. We were out here on the balcony. It was after you came back from your getaway—you went straight to bed. I accused him outright of being a liar, and he changed completely. I’ve never seen him so angry. I didn’t even know he could be that way. He grabbed me and made terrible threats.”
Cassie cringed away from that memory. She couldn’t bear to think how it had felt, when the man she had loved and trusted had become a monster, and turned on her.
“What did he say?” Trish asked softly.
“He shouted that he’d call social services and say I’d been abusing the children, and that they would find bruises when they examined them. I couldn’t believe he’d hurt his own children just to make sure there was evidence. And he threatened to report me for working illegally. He told me he would force me to stay no matter what it took because he needed you to loan his business some money and everything had to go smoothly for that to happen.”
Trish let out a sharp, angry breath.
“Unacceptable. You’re being so brave to speak up about this,” she said.
Encouraged, Cassie continued.
“Mostly, I think, he couldn’t bear that I’d called him a liar and he was going to make me suffer for it in any way he could. Suddenly, it was all about his ego. Like nothing he’d said or done to me had made a difference. I saw the monster inside him for what it was. I was furious and terrified. I felt trapped. I realized what a manipulative son of a bitch he was. I hated him for what he’d done. Hated him!”
Her voice rose to a shout and suddenly, the anger boiling inside her had to have a vent. She couldn’t keep it in anymore. What he’d said and done. How he’d stripped away all her self-esteem and destroyed her, just because he could.
“What a lying bastard! How dare he use me this way? How dare he manipulate, and lie, and mislead. What gave him the right to try and ruin my life? I thought this was my chance at happiness, that we had a life together. And we didn’t. It was all a goddamned lie.”
Cassie heard a crack.
The stem of her wineglass dropped to the floor and smashed.
She’d been gripping it so hard she’d snapped the fragile stem in two. Hastily, Cassie grabbed with both hands at the fragile bowl.
Trish leaned over and dexterously removed the empty bowl from her grasp.
“Are your hands OK?”
Cassie looked down. Her hands were shaking, and a dark bead of blood was welling from a cut on her right palm.
“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Good. Please carry on.”
“I went inside. I don’t remember much after that. I went to bed, I think. I had a nightmare, and when I woke up I was outside, near the bluff. I haven’t told anyone that—that I sleepwalked during a terrible dream. I sometimes do that when I’m very stressed, and I also have gaps in my memory. Anyway I was cold and scared and I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten out there. I went back inside and that was when I
saw him.”
She blinked hard, remembering those lifeless, staring eyes. How Ryan had been slumped in the chair with that dreadful deep red stain spread over the front of his smart blue shirt.
“I checked his pulse,” she said softly. “Then I called you. And that’s what happened, Trish. That’s everything there is to say.”
Cassie thought she’d faint if she stood up. She forced herself to breathe deeply, to gather her thoughts. Her version was shared now—as honest as she could make it, and more than she’d expected. Now they could move on to the logical part of the discussion, and share their thoughts about who could have administered the poison, and when.
To Cassie’s surprise, she saw that Trish had stood up and was rummaging in the inside pocket of her jacket.
She wore a smile of pure triumph as she drew something out.
Cassie stared. It was a smart, state-of-the-art Dictaphone recorder.
Trish looked down and carefully pressed the Stop button and as she did so, Cassie realized, in horror, that this evening hadn’t been about sharing or collaborating at all. It had never been intended for that.
It had been a trap, carefully laid and artfully concealed.
She’d walked straight into it.
Cassie felt paralyzed with fear. She knew she should grab that tape recorder and fling it out over the balcony—but her reactions were far too slow. She’d only gotten as far as the thought by the time Trish placed the recorder back in her pocket and sat down again on the opposite side of the table.
“What a thorough confession,” Trish said in a tone of quiet satisfaction. “I don’t think anyone will doubt for a moment now that you killed my husband.”
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
“Trish, I didn’t kill Ryan. You know I didn’t. Don’t you?”
Cassie’s voice trembled audibly.
“Why are you doing this to me? Do you hate me that much, that you want to frame me for something I’m innocent of?”
Trish stared back at her with a slight smile, and Cassie was shocked by her composed calmness. She was ice cold, showing not a trace of empathy or emotion, and Cassie wished she’d been quicker to realize who the true psychopath in the Ellis household was.
Almost Lost Page 24
