Page 50 of The Wife

He paused on the other end of the line. “The only time that family let me do one thing for them was to help them get a birth certificate for Spencer—that’s the son. I found a doctor willing to look at the police reports and say it was a home birth in Albany, father unknown, so Franklin’s name wouldn’t be anywhere near the baby’s. They did thank me, but it wasn’t enough to earn their forgiveness.”

Corrine wondered which cases would continue to haunt her, years from now. She considered telling Hendricks not to kick himself, that every cop inevitably makes a wrong call. But she had no idea whether Hendricks was a good cop. Maybe he deserved to be blamed for what Angela went through.

She thanked him again for the information and started the car engine.

He offered her one more piece of advice. “If I had to guess, she’s in denial. She built an entirely new life for herself and probably wants to think it’s all going to be okay. If it starts looking dire, go to the mom. Ginny Mullen. Angela may think she’s part of some other world now, but when push comes to shove, she trusts her mother more than anyone.”

Eight minutes later, Corrine stood at Angela Powell’s door.

32

I checked my phone again for updates. Nothing.

Have you heard anything?I sent the text to Colin and watched the ellipses on the screen as he typed his response. How could a text message take so long?

They transported him to SVU in Harlem instead of the 6th Precinct. By the time Olivia got there, they were taking him back downtown for processing.

Sowhat does that mean?I hit enter.

Dots, followed byThat he won’t get in front of a court until tomorrow. Sorry—at a client dinner and can’t leave. Will call you ASAP.Sosorry, A! Hang in there.

Two hours later, I was still alone. The house was so quiet, I was starting to regret turning down my mother’s offer to come into the city for the night. I didn’t want her to hear about Jason’s arrest on the news, the way she’d heard everything else so far, but I should have known it wouldn’t be a quick phone call. Of course she immediately asked about Spencer, so I had to tell her that I had sent him to camp, which led to an argument about why I hadn’t sent him to her instead, or at least told her that her grandchild was going to be gone for weeks. Now, I would have happily continued that conversation, simply to have another person in the room with me.

I jerked when I heard a dull thump at the door. That hideous knocker was gone, so whoever was on our porch was intent on letting me know they were here.

I walked gingerly to the front door so I could check the peephole in silence.

I recognized the woman standing there as the detective who had read Jason his rights while a uniformed officer had placed him in handcuffs.

“Call our lawyer,” I yelled through the door.

“You really want to talk about this through your door? There’s people walking by on the street.”

I unlocked the bolts and opened the door. If I had met this woman in a different context, my immediate reaction to her might have been a positive one. She had a heart-shaped face that seemed to rest in a natural smile. She had dark brown freckles and her only makeup was a little blush and some pink lip gloss. She stood with her feet a comfortable distance apart, making no effort to hide the extra pounds straining against the buttons of the crisp blue shirt beneath her blazer.

But tonight, she was the woman who had arrested my husband and then made sure to drag him around the city long enough that he couldn’t make it home for the night. In her left hand was some kind of document.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” I said, “and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t yell implied threats for my neighbors to hear. If you’re here with papers, you should go through Olivia Randall.”

She held up her free hand. “I know you’ve got no reason to trust me, but I’m actually here to help you, Angela. I’m Corrine. Corrine Duncan.” She extended the same hand for a shake, but I didn’t accept it.

“I never told you to call me by my first name.”

“Mrs. Powell. It’s Powell now, right? Not Mullen?”

I felt my knees give way beneath me.

The detective moved backward until she was one step down on our stoop. “The last thing I want is for you to be collateral damage because of something your husband’s done.”

“He didn’t do anything.” In the nearly twelve years since I came home, not a day had passed that I hadn’t feared exposure, but I realized now that my worries had faded over time. Now they were raging in a way I hadn’t felt since I first ventured outside my parents’ house after going back to Springs.

“Obviously there’s another side to that story,” the detective said. “The district attorney’s office agreed to charges. The judge signed an arrest warrant. Your husband looked me straight in the eye and told me he never touched the complainant in this case, and yet we have DNA evidence proving otherwise. I’m assuming he lied to you, too.”

“I have spousal privilege,” I said. “I don’t have to talk to you.”

“So you have a lawyer?”

“I told you before: Olivia Randall. I’m going to call her right now,” I said, turning to retrieve my phone from the coffee table in the living room.

---