It is time to let your lawyer do the talking.”
“Oh, screw you, Jay,” she said. “If you expect me to sit here and be insulted, then you can just kiss my ass.”
“He’s not insulting you, Betsy,” Ingersoll said. “He’s questioning you in the presence of your lawyer.”
“Well, I want another lawyer, then,” she said. “I am sick to death of you.”
“The Night Hawk regularly writes me letters,” Jesse said. “In every one he brags about what he has done. In this letter he denies it. He has never touched a victim. According to you, he hit you and forced you down and tied you up. In this letter he denies it. He has never sent me a letter that didn’t tell the truth.”
“How do you even know it’s him?” Betsy said.
“I know his voice by now,” Jesse said. “And who else would write, and why?”
Ingersoll stood.
“I’m afraid this meeting is over, Chief Stone,” he said.
“And you’d take his word over mine?” Betsy said. “A school principal?”
“Well, your record there is not unblemished,” Jesse said.
“Enough,” Ingersoll said. “This interview is finished.”
“She has told me you’re not her lawyer,” Jesse said.
“Goddamn it,” Ingersoll said. “I am also her husband.”
“As such, you have no standing to stop the interview,” Jesse said.
“What blemish,” Betsy said.
“The panty-check escapade was a little odd,” Jesse said.
“Betsy,” Ingersoll said.
Betsy was leaning forward toward Jesse, her shoulders hunched, her hands clasped tightly.
“Odd?” she said. “Odd that a dedicated educator would care enough about her charges that she would try to prevent these girls from growing up to be sluts?”
“Betsy,” Ingersoll said. “Please, please, please, please shut up. If not for yourself, then for me.”
“For you?” Betsy said.
“My reputation,” Ingersoll said.
“Your reputation?” Betsy said. “Your reputation. Your reputation is sluts. I sit here and look at that couch and wonder how many little law-school whores you’ve been with there.”
Ingersoll stared at her for a moment.
Then he said, “Fuck this. Hang yourself.” And walked out of the office.
She screamed at him as he left.
“Whoremaster!”
Jesse sat quietly.
Betsy said more quietly, “Whoremaster.”
She seemed to be speaking to herself.
“He why you faked the home invasion?” Jesse said.
“He didn’t even care,” she said thoughtfully. “You know what he said when he learned what happened?”
“Tell me,” Jesse said.
“He said, ‘If those pictures get out, I’ll be laughed out of court.’ ”
There was a dreamy quality to the way she was speaking.
“Did he know it was a fake?”
“No,” she said. “He thought it was real.”
“And he didn’t care,” Jesse said.
“No, he didn’t even want to hear about it. He seemed angry that I’d called the police.”
“That must have been hurtful,” Jesse said.
Betsy nodded absently.
“ ‘Hang yourself,’ ” she murmured.
She seemed to be talking to herself much more than to Jesse.
“Okay,” Betsy said. “I’ll hang us both. See how he likes that.”
Jesse nodded. Betsy took a deep breath.
“He has cheated on me since I’ve known him,” she said.
As she spoke, some tears appeared on her cheeks.
