Chapter 1 04
______ AT 8:45 IN THE MORNING, I found myself in a different but identical-looking room to the one where I had last interviewed Mary Wagner.
The guard escorted her in exactly on time - almost to the second. I could see right away that several days of interrogation had taken a toll.
She wouldn't look at me, and sat stoically while the officer cuffed her to the table.
He then took a position inside the room, next to the door.
Not my first choice, but I didn't argue it. Maybe if there was a second interview, I'd try to loosen things up.
“Good morning, Mary.”
“Hello.”
Her voice was neutral, a minimal show of following the rules. Still no eye contact though.
I wondered if she had served time before. And if she had, for what?
“Let me tell you why I'm here,” I said. “Mary, are you listening to me?”
No response from her. She clenched and unclenched her teeth, staring at a single point on the wall. I sensed that she was listening but trying not to show it.
“You already know that there's a significant amount of evidence against you. And I think you also know that there are still some doubts about your children.”
She finally looked up, and her eyes burned into my skull.
“Then there's nothing to talk about.”
“Actually, there is.”
I pulled out my pen and laid a blank piece of paper on the table. “I thought you might like to write a letter to Brendan, Ashley, and Adam.”
Mary, Mary
Chapter 105
MARY CHANGED IN A BEAT, just the way I'd seen her do before. She looked up at me again, her eyes and mouth noticeably softer. A familiar vulnerability showed across her features. When she was like this, it was hard not to feel something for Mary Wagner, no matter what she had done.
“I'm not allowed to remove your handcuffs,” I said, “but you can tell me what you'd like to say I'll write it for you, word for word.”
“Is this a trick?” she asked, and she was practically pleading for it not to be. “This is some kind of trick, isn't it?”
I had to choose my words carefully “No trick. It's just a chance for you to say whatever you want to say to your kids.”
“Are the police going to read it? Will you tell me? I want to know if they are.”
Her responses fascinated me, a mix of high emotion and control.
“All of your conversations in here are recorded,” I reminded her. “You don't have to do this if you don't want to. It's up to you. Your choice, Mary”
“You came to my house.”
“Yes, I did.”
“I liked you.”
“Mary I like you, too.”
“Are you on my side?”
“Yes. I am on your side.”
“The side ofjustice, right?”
“I hope so, Mary.”
She looked around the room, either weighing her options or searching for the right words, I didn't know which. Then she turned back. Her eyes locked onto the piece of paper between us.
“Dear Brendan,” she said in a whisper.
“Just Brendan?”
