by N L Hinkens
Bridget spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I don't … I don’t know what to think. I didn't even know he was having an affair with Jen to begin—“
Maria let out a snort. “If your husband was having an affair, I can tell you it wasn’t with Jen Carson.”
Bridget’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean?”
Maria placed a hand on her ample hip. “I’ve worked for the Carsons for over fifteen years. Jen confided in me. Keith was unfaithful to her several times, but his latest affair was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. She’d made up her mind to leave him, and she told him so a couple of weeks ago. As she’d predicted, he was beside himself with rage. He threatened to kill her, and not for the first time.” She leaned against the dryer and lowered her voice a tad. “Jen told me she thought Keith was having her followed.”
Bridget blinked uncertainly at her. She wasn’t about to throw Quinn under the bus and tell Maria he’d been following his mother. “Did you inform the police about the threats?”
Maria reached for a towel and folded the corners together with impeccable precision in a single flick of her wrist. “I did, but Quinn told them it was his mother who was having the affair and threatened his dad. Keith turned that boy against his mother a long time ago.” She shook her head sadly. “Quinn was furious with her.”
Bridget digested the news in silence for a moment or two. Keith had been the obvious suspect from the start. The spouse always was. But it didn't change what she’d seen—what Maria didn't know—that Jen Carson’s body had been in the trunk of Steve's car. He’d sworn he hadn't had anything to do with her murder. He’d even suggested someone might be setting him up, but that was a stretch. Isn’t that what guilty people always said? They tried to blame everyone else around them. Keith might very well have hated his wife, and couples on the verge of divorce were often angry at each other. Empty threats were commonplace, but they didn't usually end in murder. Bridget’s thoughts tumbled around in an endless loop of confusion, as she considered first Steve, and then Keith, as Jen’s potential murderer.
“Why are you telling me this, Maria?” she asked, in a hoarse whisper.
The housekeeper’s face softened. “One child has already lost a parent. I would hate for your children to lose a parent too, for no good reason. I don't know if your husband’s guilty or innocent, Mrs. Hartman, but I do know that Keith Carson swore he’d kill his wife if she ever tried to leave him.”
15
Bridget twisted the ends of her hair nervously as she contemplated Maria’s words. More than anything, she wanted to believe her husband was innocent of this horrific crime, that he hadn’t strangled a young woman with his bare hands like the monsters featured on Dateline or Unsolved Mysteries. But, despite the animosity Maria had observed between Keith and his wife, the only evidence so far pointed in Steve’s direction, as Detective Wright had noted.
Bridget wondered what else the housekeeper might have overheard that could prove useful. “Maria, did you ever hear Quinn and Henry arguing about what happened? It's just that I've caught them fighting about it a couple of times now, and I'm curious how much they knew about what was going on.”
Maria pursed her lips. “Can’t say I did, but once when Jack, Quinn’s Grandpa, came to pick him up, I overheard Quinn telling him that his mom was cheating on his dad, and how much he hated her. He was extremely angry, kicking the furniture and everything. His grandfather had his hands full trying to calm him down. It's a crying shame. Like I said before, I blame Quinn’s dad for turning him against Jen.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall above the washing machine and let out a gasp. “I need to get going. I’m babysitting my granddaughter tonight and I can’t be late. It’s my son’s anniversary.”
She threw Bridget an apologetic look as she escorted her to the front door. ”I don’t mean to appear rude by kicking you out. And thanks for taking such good care of Quinn. He's very fond of your family.”
Bridget waved goodbye and walked down the pathway to her car, mulling over everything she’d learned from Maria. It seemed Quinn had been living in an unhappy household, one in which none of the adults in his life paid him much attention at all, with the exception perhaps of his grandfather.
But nothing Maria had said threw much light on whether or not Jen and Steve had actually been having an affair. Maria didn’t seem to think that was the case, but it was possible Jen had finally had her fill of her unfaithful husband’s liaisons and decided it was her turn to have a fling on the side. And who better to have it with than an old friend from high school?
Despite what Quinn had told her, Bridget found it hard to believe that Steve had actually been planning on running away with Jen. He was far too responsible to bail out on his business after becoming a partner and investing so many years into building it up. And, even though he rarely had much time to spend with his kids, she knew he loved them too much to give up on them. Bridget choked back a sob. According to him, he loved her too much to give up on her too. But could she trust him?
When she pulled into her driveway a short time later, she sat in the car for a moment or two wiping away the tears dangling from her eyelashes. She still hadn’t heard anything from Steve since his arrest that morning. She only hoped the lawyer he’d engaged was down at the station working on his case. Maybe he would even manage to get him bailed out tonight. Bridget had no idea how these things worked. She’d never had any dealings with the criminal process before—she’d never even gotten a speeding ticket.
Steeling herself, she climbed out of her car and made her way back inside the house. To her relief, Harper was still sleeping soundly, her chestnut waves fanned out around her flushed forehead. Bridget tucked the blankets in and smoothed a hand over her daughter’s forehead before closing the door gently behind her and going to check on Henry. She found him lounging on his bed scrolling through his phone. Bridget cast a quick glance at the computer screen on his desk, gratified to see that it was dark, and then sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “Did you get all your homework finished?”
Henry gave a disgruntled nod.
“What are you doing now?”
“Nothing.”
Bridget sighed. “I know you’re worried about Dad—”
“Too late for that,” he snapped back.
“What do you mean?”
Henry glared at her. “He’s guilty, Mom! He killed her!”
“Honey, we don’t know that—”
“I do!” he yelled, tossing his phone aside and jumping up. “I know he did it!”
Bridget’s heart jolted in her chest at the flash of anger in his eyes. “What do you mean? How can you possibly know that?”
He screwed up his lips and turned away. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
Bridget placed a concerned hand on his arm. “Henry, if there’s something you know, you need to tell me.”
He kept his gaze averted. “Dad cheated on you, Mom. And I hate him for it. That’s all you need to know.”
“Don’t say that. You know you don’t mean it. Whatever he’s done, your father still loves you very much.” She hesitated, before adding, “And me.”
Henry snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s why he was helping Jen steal the company’s money and running away with her.”
Bridget furrowed her brow. “I don’t know where you heard that, but it’s not true. Dad was only advising Jen on her financial options if she went through with the divorce.”
“That’s not what Quinn’s dad said.”
Bridget grimaced. “Keith was upset that Steve was helping Jen sort out her finances.”
“You just can’t accept it, can you?” Henry scowled and reached for his phone. “I’m going to bed.”
Bridget got to her feet resignedly. “We’ll talk about this in the morning when tempers aren’t so frayed. Goodnight, son.”
She closed the door quietly behind her and padded past Harper’s room back down the hall to th
e kitchen. After pouring herself a glass of water, she sat down at the table and opened up her laptop. The police had confiscated Steve’s desktop computer, laptop, and phone when they’d arrested him, but she could still access his Dropbox folder online. She needed to try and find out exactly what he’d been helping Jen with, and whether or not there was any truth to the rumor that they’d been planning to run off together.
She pulled up the Dropbox URL, typed in Steve’s login information, and began scanning the long list of files looking for anything that wasn't business related. Clicking on a folder marked personal, she held her breath as it opened up to reveal several subfolders. She skipped over the folders labelled photos, miscellaneous and kids, hesitating at the one titled insurance. Why was Steve storing insurance information in a personal file on his Dropbox? She moved her mouse over the icon, but to her frustration the folder was password-protected.
Chewing on her lip, she tried a couple of combinations they commonly used, but to no avail. Next, she typed in all of their birthdays. As a last resort, she keyed in their wedding date. Her jaw dropped when the folder popped open. Bridget stared transfixed at the screen, her eyes scouring the documents contained in the folder. They were listed by date, so she began with her earliest one.
Sender: K_Carson@CarsonConsulting
Don't involve yourself in this. I know Jen has been to see you so don't even bother denying it. I’m sure your wife would be very interested to know what's been going on between you and Jen. I’m warning you now to stay out of my business.
Sender: SteveHartman@BarlettandHartman
Nothing’s going on between Jen and me as you well know. And I’m not involving myself in your business. I'm simply advising Jen as a friend on her options.
Sender: K_Carson@CarsonConsulting
I could make things extremely uncomfortable for you. I’m not going to warn you again.
Sender: SteveHartman@BarlettandHartman
Are you threatening me? Because if that's what this is, I won't hesitate to go to the police. Jen said you threatened to kill her. You can hardly blame her for filing for divorce after everything you’ve done.
Sender: K_Carson@CarsonConsulting
Jen’s been moving assets around. There's a large chunk of company money missing. She couldn’t have pulled this off without help. Maybe you actually think you can have it all, my company and my wife. I won't hesitate to take you down if I find out you're behind this.
Sender: SteveHartman@BarlettandHartman
You're completely paranoid. I’m not interested in your company, or your wife.
Sender: K_Carson@CarsonConsulting
You have a very unhealthy interest in my money and my wife. I know all about it. You’ll live to regret it.
Sender: SteveHartman@BarlettandHartman
What did you do to Jen? Where is she?
Sender: K_Carson@CarsonConsulting
We need to talk things over. Meet me at The Muddy Cup on Main Street and Fifth tomorrow. I’ll text you a time.
Bridget sank back in her chair, her brain whirring to make sense of the series of emails between Steve and Keith. The Muddy Cup. That was the day she’d followed Steve. Had he done something illegal? Had he helped Jen steal money from her husband’s company? It was hard to believe he would risk his own company’s reputation by falsifying another company’s accounting records and hiding assets. One thing was for sure, she’d been right to suspect that Keith was threatening Steve. There was no telling how far he’d pushed him. Especially if Steve had accused him of harming Jen.
Bridget closed up her laptop and began pacing, going over in her mind everything she’d learned. At least Steve had had the sense to keep a copy of the incriminating emails—his insurance folder. He might need that to prove that someone other than himself had a motive to kill Jen. Surely Steve must have told his lawyer by now about the existence of the emails. In and of themselves, they wouldn’t amount to enough evidence to convict Keith of murder, but it would be enough to induce the police to take a closer look at him as a suspect.
Bridget glanced at the clock on the wall. Why hadn’t Steve or his lawyer contacted her yet to let her know what was happening? She reached into the sink for a sponge and began wiping down the counters in an effort to keep calm. When she was done, she retrieved a broom from the mudroom. She was sweeping the crumbs and Cheerios into a dustpan when a tiny clinking sound caught her attention.
Kneeling down, she spotted something gleaming up at her through the debris. Quinn’s house key! He must have dropped it when he was helping clean up the kitchen the other day. Her fingers closed over it. Maria, the Carsons’ housekeeper, only worked in the mornings. Bridget sucked on her bottom lip, toying with a risky idea. She could stop by the house when Keith was at work and Quinn was at school and do a little investigating of her own. Her heart raced as the brazen notion took root. Maybe she’d find the evidence she needed to prove her husband’s innocence and expose the true killer.
16
Bridget was dropping off groceries at her parents’ house the next day when Steve finally called. With trembling fingers, she pressed the phone to her ear, steeling herself for whatever he was about to hit her with.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said, an anguished crack in his voice.
“Are they letting you go?” Bridget asked breathlessly.
“My lawyer’s working on it. The cops can’t keep me here much longer. They haven’t charged me with anything, yet.”
Bridget chewed on her fingernail, debating whether or not to tell him she’d found the emails between him and Keith in his Dropbox folder. They didn’t prove either man’s guilt or innocence. Maybe she should wait and see what Steve had to say for himself first. ”Do the police have any other suspects?”
”I don't know.” He let out an aggrieved breath. “They’re not telling me anything. But I know who killed her.”
Bridget dropped her voice to a confiding whisper, not wanting her parents to overhear the conversation. “Who?”
“Keith, of course. He’d threatened to do it before. Jen told me it was only a matter of time before he took her out. She was afraid for her life; she’d made arrangements to leave town.”
Bridget fell quiet for a moment, wondering if Steve had secretly been planning on leaving with Jen. Of course, he’d hardly admit that to her. And she had no way of proving it—unlike his meeting with Keith which she’d witnessed firsthand. It was time she got some answers on what was going on between the two men. “Why did you meet Keith Carson at that coffee shop the other day?”
There was a charged silence on the other end of the line for a long moment, and then Steve asked. ”How did you know about that?”
“I followed you. I knew you were lying to me about where you were going. What business did you have with Keith Carson?”
Steve exhaled loudly. “It’s not what you think. Jen didn't like the financial advice I gave her. She hired some shady accounting firm to move some assets offshore. Keith found out about it and thought I was behind it. He wanted his company’s money back. I told him I didn’t know where it was, but he didn’t believe me.”
“Did he threaten you, or blackmail you at all? Steve, if you did something, even if you just helped to cover up—“
“I swear to you, I had nothing to do with Jen’s murder! Look, I've got to go. My lawyer’s signaling to me. I was just calling to warn you that Detective Wright’s coming by the house again later on this afternoon. He wants to talk to Henry. If I'm not back by then, you need to sit in on the interview.”
Bridget frowned. “Why does he want to interview Henry?”
“Apparently, the Carsons’ housekeeper told Detective Wright that Quinn and Henry overheard a heated argument between Jen and Keith. The housekeeper claims Keith was threatening Jen, but Quinn says it was the other way around. The police want to hear Henry’s side of the story.“
Bridget grimaced. She wasn’t keen on the idea of dragging Henry into the situation, but what choice
did she have? “All right, I’ll make sure he’s home. He has practice later on this afternoon, so the cops will have to come right after school if they want to talk to him.”
Steve hung up and Bridget slipped her phone back into her purse.
“Everything all right?” her dad inquired, joining her in the kitchen where she was staring into space.
She rubbed her fingertips slowly across her forehead. “I hope so. The police want to interview Henry about an argument he overheard between Jen and Keith.”
“I’m sure it's nothing to worry about,” her dad soothed. “It might even help Steve’s case.”
“I just hope Henry agrees to cooperate. He’s convinced his father and Jen were having an affair.” Her lip trembled. “And he really believes Steve killed her.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Bridget’s dad pulled her into a hug and squeezed her tightly before releasing her. “You should go on home and take care of your family. I’ll make your mom a bite to eat. Let me know how the interview goes.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Bridget slung her purse over her shoulder and headed out to her car, queasy at the thought of her fourteen-year-old son being interviewed by the police. She wondered briefly if she needed to retain a lawyer for him too. She hadn't thought to ask Steve about it. But, if Detective Wright only wanted to ask about an argument Henry had overheard, he’d hardly need counsel for that. If the cops pressed him to make a statement, or appear in court as a witness, she would revisit the issue.
At three o'clock, she picked the kids up from school. Henry was his usual prickly self, while Harper chatted away merrily, almost as though she’d forgotten that her father had been handcuffed and taken away by police the previous day.
