‘It did send when it was supposed to send,’ said Ren. ‘So, it’s a proven fact that you were gone for forty minutes. And thirty minutes later, you discovered that your daughter and her sitter were gone.’
‘I … that might sound bad,’ said Mark. ‘But I had nothing to do with this. I don’t know what’s going on here.’
‘Mr Whaley,’ said Ren. ‘The reason your wife was texting her sister was … because you were gone so long. We’ve talked to her, we’ve gone through some of her correspondence …’ Ren paused. ‘Did you know that your wife thinks you’re having an affair?’
‘I didn’t know that — not until last night.’
‘But you didn’t think to mention that?’ said Ren.
‘Because I’m not having an affair!’ said Mark. ‘I didn’t want you going down a route that would lead to a dead end. I would never have an affair. I’ve never cheated on anyone … if I didn’t have affairs when I was a raving alcoholic, I’m not going to start now. I love my wife.’
‘Are you saying, for the record, that you are not having an affair?’
‘Yes,’ said Mark. ‘I am not having an affair. Never have, never will.’
‘Your wife said that you spend a lot of time at the office.’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Mark, ‘but I’m in the den at home more. Why is she saying all these things? I don’t get it. Why now? This is just going to distract everyone.’
Mark Whaley stared at her. ‘So you don’t believe a word I’m saying.’
‘It’s standard practice to ask for a polygraph,’ said Ren.
‘Uh … I … well, go ahead, then. I’ve got nothing to hide.’
‘You are willing to take a polygraph …’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Mark. ‘Absolutely.’
She stood up. ‘Thank you.’
He nodded.
‘You’ve been stuck here for hours,’ said Ren. ‘Would you like to get a coffee in the break room?’
Mark nodded. ‘That would be great. Thank you.’
19
Paul Louderback walked down the hallway toward Ren, his face red from the cold, his hair in tufts. His navy ski jacket was hanging open over a black fleece. Ren smiled at him.
She turned to Mark Whaley. ‘Could you hold on there for just one moment?’
‘No problem,’ said Mark.
She walked over to Paul. ‘So, how did the search go?’
‘We had to abandon it for now,’ said Paul. ‘Snow is falling thick and fast. We had eighty volunteers show up — we searched a two-mile radius. We’re still waiting to hear back from some of the owners of the vacant holiday homes nearby for permission to search their properties. We’re hoping to get back out there at eight a.m. tomorrow, but the forecast is not promising — ten inches of snow are expected.’
‘Shit.’
‘Where are you two headed?’ said Paul.
‘To the break room, just so he can stretch his legs, and grab a decent coffee. The walls of that interview room must be closing in on him. They’re closing in on me …’
‘OK — catch you later.’
Ren led Mark Whaley to the break room. She knocked on the door. There was no-one inside. Mark took a seat at the table. The television was playing silently in the corner. Ren turned around to the machine to make coffee. She reached out to hand a mug to Mark Whaley. He didn’t move. The images on the television screen had changed, and a crimson strip across the bottom was detailing his pain:
Mark Whaley reached for the remote control, his hand shaking. He struggled to find the volume button. Ren took the remote control gently from him, and turned up the volume. Mark looked around. ‘Thank you,’ he said. Then he watched, tears streaming down his face.
Detective Owens walked into the room. Ren handed him Mark Whaley’s coffee. She nodded toward him. ‘Can you keep an eye on him?’ she said quietly.
Ren went down to Bob’s office. The television screen was now showing the photo of a child who had disappeared from a motel in Park County two years earlier and had never been found.
‘Any connection?’ said Ren.
‘Nah,’ said Bob. ‘My money’s on the mother for that one. Everyone’s money’s on her. And that’s without the public knowing some of the shit I know. Do you know something? In her second interview, an investigator asked her what she would like most in the world — bearing in mind her five-year-old kid is missing — and she says “a red Ferrari”.’
‘You are shitting me,’ said Ren.
‘That’s what you’re dealing with. How’s Whaley?’ said Bob.
‘He’s just been watching this, so not good, I’m guessing,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve left him with Owens.’
‘What next?’ said Bob.
‘I wanted to let you know that he’s agreed to a polygraph. We can have someone here from Denver right away.’ Ren pointed to the television. ‘Ooh — look,’ she said, ‘another Repuritan bites the dust. Or the tight ass of a hooker …’
‘Mississippi Congressman, Shep Collier …’ said Bob. ‘This will be good.’
‘And there we have it,’ said Ren, reading the scrolling text at the bottom of the screen, ‘the press conference that will address the prostitution claims …’
Congressman Shep Collier took the podium.
‘Check out The Good Wife,’ said Ren.
Shep Collier’s wife was standing two steps to her husband’s right, and one step back. She had brown hair, swept off her round face. She was full-figured, dressed in a lilac and mauve pants suit. She looked like a woman who never wore a skirt because she didn’t like her legs. She looked like the woman in the grocery store who would pick up something you had dropped and hand it to you with a smile. She looked like the neighbor who would make you a casserole and leave it on your doorstep with a note. Right now, she was the woman who the women of America were rooting for.
‘Thanks for clearing that up …’ said Ren.
‘What about at the moment of being caught?’ said Ren. ‘Or at the moment of … the money shot.’
Shep Collier turned to his wife.
‘Now, that is one ashen-faced man,’ said Ren. ‘Yes, asshole, you have, indeed, been burned.’
On screen, Shep Collier had his eyes on his notes.
Collier laid his hands flat on the podium.
