initials at the bottom of your picture? That means the concierge identified you as a woman he saw in the lobby last Wednesday.”
It was a bluff, but Adrienne didn’t need to know that.
“Obviously there’s some mistake. I use the Internet here at home. Maybe this person just recognized me from the neighborhood.”
“We thought that might be the case,” Ellie said. “But then we learned more about James Grisco. We know about your past, Adrienne. You didn’t grow up in Chico. You grew up in Buffalo, New York, and your boyfriend there was James Grisco. He killed your stepfather, Wayne Cooper, the man who raped you.”
She held her composure for multiple seconds, but then her lower lip began to tremble. Ellie wondered whether it was out of fear that the world she had so carefully constructed was about to crumble, or if this woman was really just that good.
“I–I didn’t even recognize him that night. When Detective Howard told me the name of the man who broke into our house, I just froze. Maybe I should have said something right then and there, but I panicked. Before I knew what I was doing, I said I didn’t know who he was. David must have found out about my past. He must have hired Grisco just to add another layer to the madness.”
“But, see, that’s the thing. We haven’t been able to find any connection at all between David Bolt and James Grisco, let alone evidence that Bolt hired Grisco. But we did find out about that phone call you made to the prison up in Buffalo, right after Bolt posted the second threat on your website.” Ellie set a single page of the Langstons’ phone records on the table. “You assumed Grisco had found you after all these years. You thought he was the one harassing you online, but, Adrienne, you were actually the one who brought him back into your life. He might never have found you if you hadn’t made that phone call.”
Rogan laid yet another sheet of paper on the coffee table, this one her bank statement with the transaction at issue highlighted in yellow. “A ninety-nine-hundred-dollar withdrawal from an account in your name, right before Grisco paid cash to a landlord in Queens.”
“I’ve never had my own money before. I took out some cash to splurge.”
“So you have receipts for whatever purchases you might have made?” Ellie asked.
“No, I mean-it was just an extra facial or massage here and there. It all adds up.”
“That’s a lot of spa time,” Rogan said. “We think it was Grisco who found out how quickly the expenses add up. He went away a long time ago, and at a young age. He probably thought ten grand was a lot of money, but before he knew it, he was broke again. Did he come back for more? Blackmailers usually do.”
When the shoe box full of maggots showed up at the Langstons’ building, Adrienne had been the one to insist that her precinct check it for fingerprints. Their theory was that her initial ten thousand dollars bought her that Adidas shoe box, filled with whatever incriminating documents Grisco was blackmailing her with. She then used the weathered box to set him up for stalking her, setting the stage for the shooting in East Hampton.
“What Jimmy Grisco did back then was insane. Wayne said he’d kill me if I ever told anyone. It took all of my strength to tell my mother, and instead of believing me, she called me a jealous bitch. I went to Jimmy because I had nowhere else to go. I told him what my stepfather was doing to me. I had no idea he’d go after him. I’ll admit it: part of me was glad, but I had nothing to do with it.”
“And then Grisco showed up in New York City after his release.”
“I know how it looks, and that’s why I didn’t say anything. But I’m telling you: David Bolt is the one who did this. What could Grisco have even blackmailed me with? My husband already knew about my past. Maybe he didn’t know the details, but he knows everything that matters. I’m the high school dropout who married up, and all his friends know it. Who cares?”
“Grisco obviously thought you cared. Why would he have come to New York?”
“You know, I just can’t win with you people. Fine, believe what you want, but I’m done trying to explain myself to you.”
Rogan rose from his place on the sofa and waited for Ellie to do the same. They had known going in that this woman wouldn’t break easily. She had been lying to them from the very beginning. A few more threads of fiction would be no trouble for her to spin.
But they had also known going in that they wouldn’t be leaving empty-handed. They let her lead the way from the living room. She saw Rogan reach for his cuffs once Adrienne had entered the narrow hallway heading to the front door.
“Adrienne Langston, also known as Adrienne Mitchell and Adrienne Cooper, you are under arrest for the murder of James Grisco.” As Ellie read Adrienne her rights, Rogan handcuffed her arms behind her back. It had taken some negotiating, but Max had persuaded the Suffolk County district attorney that any plan Adrienne had to kill Grisco would have originated in Manhattan, giving the New York County DA’s office concurrent jurisdiction. The arrest warrant had been signed just that morning.
Ellie had reached the final sentence of the Miranda recitation when she heard keys in the front door.
She placed her hand on her Glock, then relaxed it when she saw Ramona in the doorway, Casey standing behind her. The girl’s face initially brightened, until she realized the full implications of what she was seeing.
“Mom? Mom! What are you doing? Let her go.”
“It’s okay, Ramona. It’s okay. It’s okay. Just call your father.”
Ramona ran to her mother, pulling at her T-shirt as Rogan and Ellie marched Adrienne past Ramona and toward the front door. Ellie held out an arm to create distance, but Ramona reached around her, grabbing again at Adrienne’s T-shirt. Casey did his best to pull Ramona away, but she punched her fists against his forearm.
Even in her handcuffs, Adrienne tried arching toward her stepdaughter. “Please. Please just let me hug her. She’s scared.”
Ramona kept screaming, “Mom,” and “Don’t take her,” over and over again.
As they pulled Adrienne into the elevator, Ellie looked back at the apartment door. Ramona’s arms were outstretched toward her mother, but she was letting Casey hold her back now.
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed the resemblance earlier. The yearbook picture from 1995 back in Buffalo looked nothing like Adrienne Langston. It had been nearly twenty years. Appearances change. The woman next to her in handcuffs had lost all of that teenage angst and awkwardness.
And yet the picture should have been familiar. It didn’t look like Adrienne, but it looked a hell of a lot like Ramona.
When they had found the phone number of a family law attorney in the Langstons’ caller ID, they had assumed George was considering a divorce. Now Ellie understood that the client hadn’t been George, but Adrienne. The representation wasn’t new, but began sixteen years ago. And the subject matter wasn’t divorce, but adoption.
O nce they had their car’s latest occupant secured in the backseat, Ellie latched her own seat belt up front and made a phone call she was eager for Adrienne to overhear.
“Double M, it’s Ellie Hatcher. You get those cookies I dropped off?” She had delivered Michael Ma’s nutter- butters as promised. She didn’t want to lose her best contact in the crime lab.
“Just polished off the last one an hour ago.”
“I’ll whip you up a new batch if you can do me one more favor. Look for evidence collection on Julia Whitmire. You’ll see a DNA swab for a known acquaintance named Ramona Langston.”
In the rearview mirror, Ellie could see Adrienne looking out the window, pretending not to listen as Park Avenue sailed by.
“What do you need me to compare it against?”
“I’ll have a sample to you within an hour. But I’m not looking for a match. I need you to tell me if I’ve found the girl’s biological mother.”
And then Ellie saw it-a crack in Adrienne Langston’s confident veneer. It was the tiniest movement, somewhere between a blink and a flinch. But it was there.
She knew why James Grisco had been buying coffee across the street from Ramona’s school. And she knew why Adrienne had killed him.
PART VI
