The Wife Who Knew Too Much
Page 29
“I understand this is very difficult,” Martinez said. “But until he’s identified, we can’t proceed with the autopsy, and we can’t release the body. He’ll just stay in the morgue.”
“Tabitha. Come on, sweetie, I know you’re strong,” Liz said.
I nodded blindly, my eyes full of tears, and reached for her hands. She helped me to my feet, and I followed Martinez from the room on shaky legs. The walk of twenty feet seemed endless, and I knew I would live it many times over in my dreams. We reached a pair of closed metal doors. The detective typed a code into a keypad on the wall, and I heard a lock disengage. We stepped into a refrigerated space no larger than a doctor’s waiting room, and I gasped. There were no lockers for the bodies, like on TV. Just several steel gurneys and a smell of death and chemicals in the air. Two of the gurneys held bodies, covered by sheets. A pair of bare white feet protruded from the sheet of the gurney on the left.
His toe had stopped bleeding, at least.
“It’s him,” I said in a small voice. “I know because he was shot in the foot last night.”
The detective stepped to the head of Connor’s gurney and prepared to lift the sheet. “I’m sorry but we can’t rely on that for the ID.”
“Yes, I understand. Go ahead. I want to see him.”
The breath left my body as he pulled the sheet aside.
Connor looked like himself, his perfect features so familiar, his dark lashes lying against his pale cheeks. He was just tired, I told myself, and pallid, and lying very still. I stepped up beside him and reached for his face, desperate to touch him again, as if my caress could awaken him from this terrible sleep. The detective stopped my hand.
“No contact.”
“Please.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. His body is evidence in the homicide investigation.”
I doubled over in my grief, my hands on my stomach. It was just beginning to sink in that this baby would never know her father.
“He was shot protecting me. I want that known.”
“Of course. We’d like to get your perspective, as soon as you’re ready to be interviewed. Your husband’s, uh—your husband will be released to you after the autopsy. I’m going to cover him again, okay?”
I nodded wordlessly.
“I’m sorry, but I need to ask one more favor. We have a second victim here, a female, who was found deceased from a gunshot wound in the passenger seat of the Suburban. The circumstances of her death are under investigation. We’ve tentatively identified her as Juliet Davis, though I understand that may be an alias. If you could—”
“Yes. Show me.”
He pulled the sheet aside.
“That’s her,” I said. It gave me no pleasure that Juliet had lost her life. It wouldn’t bring Connor back.
“What happened to Steve Kovacs?”
“Shot in a firefight with our officers. In surgery. Not expected to make it.”
We returned to the conference room. I collapsed into a chair. Someone brought me a glass of water. The detectives and Liz talked around me, but I had trouble understanding what they were saying. Eventually, it was agreed I’d go home with Liz and return tomorrow for a full debriefing, after I’d had a chance to rest.
Somebody lent me a coat, a red puffer jacket from the lost and found. I followed Liz out to the parking lot. It was starting to snow in sharp, icy crystals that stung my cheeks and made me cold deep in the bone. She cleared a box of tissues and a stuffed animal off the passenger seat of her minivan and threw them in the back. I sank down and breathed deeply. I’d ridden in Liz’s car a few times before. It still smelled like Goldfish crackers and sports equipment. Life went on for some people, but mine would never be the same. Being with Connor was a dream that I never quite believed in. And now it was over, before it had really begun.
Liz started the car and turned up the heat. Just then, the baby gave me a hard kick, and I remembered that I wasn’t alone. That I had her. And that part of him would live on in her. My hand flew to my midsection. The wonder of the moment must have shined in my eyes, because Liz turned to me with a sad smile.
“When are you due?” she asked.
43
One year later
Some things are too good to be true. Connor was like that. He was fireworks against the night sky—spectacular and beautiful and gone much too soon. Yet, he’d left me a legacy that would last.
My daughter slept in the baby carrier, snuggled against my chest, as I walked into the conference room and shook hands with my lawyer.
“I’m so glad you brought her. Can I see?”
I turned sideways so Meg’s face was visible. Her thumb was in her mouth, her sooty lashes forming perfect half-moons against the velvet of her cheeks.
“Beautiful,” she said.
“She has her daddy’s eyes.”
“I remember when we first met, and you told me you were expecting.”
“Ugh, in that jail cell? I’d rather not think about it.”
“You’ve been through a lot, Tabitha. I know you don’t have the appetite for a fight, but you can still change your mind. It’s a lot to give up for her. Are you sure?”
I’d come to my lawyer’s office today to sign a settlement agreement. At the time of his death, Connor was the legal heir to Nina Levitt’s fortune, and as Connor’s heir, I’d stepped into that position. But the estate was still subject to the lawsuit by Nina’s sister, Kara Baxter, who’d argued in court that Connor shouldn’t inherit because he was responsible for Nina’s death. I knew that was a lie. And I couldn’t allow his name to be publicly sullied. So, I’d hired Suzanne Cohen again, to prove Connor’s innocence in court for all the world to see. With the recording from that awful night, we had the evidence to win the case outright. Kara Baxter’s lawyers knew that. They’d begged us to settle for half the estate. But that just didn’t feel right to me. I saw no reason why I should get half of Nina’s vast fortune. Not only didn’t I know Nina, but I’d slept with the poor woman’s husband. I felt guilty about that to this day, so how could I take her money? But neither did I see why Kara should get it. The two of them had been estranged for decades, and Kara had willfully lied about Connor and me, smearing us in the press and setting off our troubles.
I had my lawyer propose a deal where Nina’s fortune went to charity, except that Kara would get five million in exchange for dropping the lawsuit and making a public statement acknowledging Connor’s innocence. That seemed like a fair price to pay for my daughter to grow up knowing that her father had been a good man. Financially, we would be fine. We already were. Connor had three million dollars in life insurance from his executive position at Levitt Global, paid in full, so I knew that our future was secure.
“We have everything we could ever need. Let’s do this,” I said.
I signed the papers. Five million would be wired to Kara Baxter. Another five million was held aside as a settlement to Gloria for the pain and suffering she’d endured at the hands of Edward Levitt. The remainder was allocated to the Nina Levitt Foundation, dedicated to education and the arts.
Now, I had to go on with the difficult task of rebuilding my life, if only for my daughter’s sake. I’d bought a house in Lakeside, about ten minutes from the restaurant. The house was modest, but the neighborhood was excellent, with wonderful schools for when Meg was older. I had a new Toyota RAV4 hybrid that got good safety ratings. And I was in the process of buying the Baldwin Grill, which had been put up for sale by its owners and might otherwise have shut down. Liz would continue to manage the restaurant, and Matt would bartend. But the chef had left, and I’d hired Liz’s husband’s cousin to replace him—the guy in the truck who’d rescued me that awful day. Alex owned an organic farm and had been to culinary school. He had a vision of turning the place into a farm-to-table destination, and I was interested in being part of that.
By giving up any claim to Nina Levitt’s fortune, I’d put that strange, glittering, awful time behind me. I was making a life
that felt right, except for one awful, yawning absence. Connor had died to protect me and our daughter. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get over him, or even that I wanted to. If I did, it wouldn’t happen for a long time. For now, I sometimes felt his presence around me, and saw him when I looked into my daughter’s eyes. He was a good man. Not a perfect man, but he loved me. And I loved him, dearly. Our daughter is the legacy of that.
Also by Michele Campbell
It’s Always the Husband
She Was the Quiet One
A Stranger on the Beach
About the Author
A graduate of Harvard University and Stanford Law School, MICHELE CAMPBELL worked at a prestigious Manhattan law firm before spending eight years fighting crime as a federal prosecutor in New York City. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Also by Michele Campbell
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by St. Martin’s Press, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
THE WIFE WHO KNEW TOO MUCH. Copyright © 2020 by Michele Rebecca Martinez Campbell.
All rights reserved. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design: Jonathan Bush
Jacket photograph of woman © Igor Djordjevic / EyeEm/Getty Images
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Campbell, Michele, 1962- author.
Title: The wife who knew too much / Michele Campbell.
Description: First edition. | New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press, 2020.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020006773 | ISBN 9781250202550 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250202567 (ebook) | ISBN 9781250272898 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability)
Subjects: GSAFD: Suspense fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3613.A78648 W54 2020 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020006773
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First Edition: 2020