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.
“I didn’t think the police would do an effective enough job. That’s why I bailed you out. Because I knew I could.”
She tapped her coat pocket.
“That information was very detailed, and should hold up in a court of law. Especially the mention of the memory loss, a very helpful addition. Along with my testimony, which will fill the gaps in your story, it should be more than enough to get you convicted.”
Cassie stared at her in horror. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t utter anything in her own defense. She was completely blindsided by what Trish had just done.
“By the way,” Trish continued, “as you know, the money in this home is mine. So the diamond necklace belongs to me. I’m sure it will play a part in the evidence. As you said, diamonds are forever—supposedly.”
“Why?” Cassie got out in a breathy, terrified voice, but Trish continued.
“Now, let me explain what’s going to happen next.”
Next?
