Page 89 of His Loving Wife

I only sleep a few hours a night. The apartment we’ve rented has two bedrooms. I sleep on the couch; it makes my frequent patrols of the apartment less disruptive, but the kids are aware of how little I sleep. They know I’m in a constant state of defense.

I haven’t had the choice to stop working, although I’m the first to admit I’m not in the best place to fulfill my responsibilities as I once did. Our financial obligations outweigh my mental health at the moment. Andrew wasted a big portion of our savings in the months he lied about quitting his job, purchasing our time at that godforsaken vacation home. Until the sale of the house goes through, my salary is our only income. I’m hoping we can make it through the end of the school year, keep the kids in a familiar town, then we can see about starting over somewhere new. Maybe move closer to Mom.

Aster has been a surprising support in recent months. She’s used her background studying psychology to help me make sense of what Andrew cooked up with his friends. She’s mentioned, more than once, that maybe we could join forces. I could use my writing skills and experience combined with her criminal expertise. We might be able to put out a book that’s even more successful than the one she’d originally pitched. I could finally carry out my dream of writing, although this wasn’t what I had in mind. Besides, it wouldn’t just be my story I’m telling. Noah and Willow are part of this. It’s our story.

All of this runs through my mind in a matter of seconds, but I don’t share all this with Marsh. She’s smart enough to know the complexities of our predicament without me having to break it down for her.

I smile. “I’m getting there.”

She nods. “You are all so very lucky. Usually, the type of men who commit these crimes give off very few warning signs. It’s not until afterward that people start remembering red flags.”

“That’s exactly how I feel. Looking back, I can see Andrew wasn’t right. He was clearly up to something. The way he started hiding things from me. The way he tried to cut us off from those around us. His quitting his job. But in the moment, none of it felt dangerous. It just felt like we were going through life.” I look down, playing with the edge of my napkin. “He wasn’t in a healthy mindset, but it was that damn group that put him over the edge.”

It’s interesting how certain crimes gain media attention, while others remain little more than whispers. I rarely hear people talk about Dan’s murder, the well-meaning husband and father who stumbled into a dangerous situation and paid with his life, but people are all about the Second Chances Sect.

That’s their name now, and I actually feel sorry for the Second Chances organization. They’ve tried their best to distance themselves from the media spectacle, but it’s impossible with an alliterative name like that tacked onto every headline. After intense investigation, it’s clear Second Chances had no involvement with what Vincent and some of the other participants were doing. Like so many other groups before, Second Chances started off with good intentions, to be a sounding board for men with mental health issues—it was only a few radical members who took those same teachings and manipulated them into something darker.

Clearly, Vincent was the leader. He was a man overwhelmed by his wife’s diagnosis and his daughters’ increasing volatility. He found solace in another woman and began envisioning a life where he could simply walk away. Of course, that’s only a vision. In reality, there’s divorce and alimony and resentment—an increasing laundry list of complications he preferred not to deal with. Instead, he convinced himself that murdering his family was for their benefit, ignoring that it was only him who went striding away into the sunset.

I like to think he got what he deserved. After we maneuvered the raft onto shore, we ran for help, pounding on the doors of nearby neighbors. The police were called. Once the storm settled, they sent out crews looking for Vincent, Andrew and the remnants of the rental boat. Vincent’s body was found the following day. His cause of death was drowning, although trauma to the body suggested sharks had toyed with him a bit. I didn’t want to know whether it was before or after his death.

In the early weeks, the media seemed fascinated with Vincent’s mistress, Trixie. It’s hard to say how much or little she knew about Vincent’s actions. Did she know he had murdered his family for her? Or, like so many others, did she make the mistake of believing everything he told her? She’s gone into hiding now, and in some ways, I envy her. I wish I could run away and pretend none of this ever happened.

Police were able to access the chat logs between Vincent and the other Second Chances members. They determined Cal Rogers was definitely influenced by Vincent, that even when he had second thoughts about murdering his family, Vincent urged him to go through with it, but there’s no evidence whether Vincent helped him carry out his actions physically. He spent weeks preaching to Cal Rogers that this was the only way for him to take back control of his family. He spent the same amount of time communicating with Andrew.

The messages also helped investigators find Trent, the person who impersonated Detective Barnes. He apparently had plans to kill his own family, although he was likely to take Vincent’s route and remain alive. It’s believed his actions were meant as a form of revenge against his estranged wife. If we hadn’t survived that night at sea, another family could have been lost. Trent was arrested and found hanging from a bed sheet in his jail cell a week later.

Even with all this information available to me, I still can’t figure out why Andrew spiraled the way he did. Why he believed there was no other way to take back the control he felt he’d lost. I wonder if, like Vincent and Trent, his plan was to start over after getting us out of the way. Deep down, I don’t believe that. I think, like Cal Rogers, he always intended to leave this world by our sides. In his own twisted way, he thought he was protecting us.

I picture his face during the final moments on the boat, the storm raging around us, our children clinging to one another. I believe Andrew knew there was no way to repair the damage he’d caused, which is why he stayed behind. He’s right. Even if he’d made it to shore, our marriage would be over.

I only wish I could have seen how he was struggling sooner. I wish I could have had the chance to save him before it was too late.

“I have another reason I wanted to meet with you,” Detective Marsh says, bringing my thoughts back to the present. “Paul Gunter.”

A familiar shiver climbs my spine. “What about him?”

“As you know, they’ve pushed back his trial. Looks like it’s given him time to think. He’s going to plead.”

“Plead?”

“He’s accepting responsibility for all charges.”

“What’s the catch?”

“He’ll still be serving time, but he’ll be in a mental health facility instead of prison. It seems he’s been taking advantage of counseling sessions and taking medication.”

“So, he won’t be going to prison?”

“He’ll be getting help. As long as you sign off on it.”

“Me?”

“Part of the deal means you have to agree to the terms. If you’d rather he serve time, he will. Either place, he won’t be released for a long time.”

She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a piece of paper.

“His lawyer gave me this and asked me to pass it along. He’s still forbidden to contact you directly, but this has gone through all the proper protocols. I thought you might want to give it a read before you make your decision.”

---