Page 21 of Shattered Secrets
“Miss Beckett,” the female officer says again, pulling up a chair and sitting beside my bed. “I need to ask some questions.”
I nod and watch as she takes out a pad and pen and prepares to write my answers. The policeman standing next to her has stubble. Ethan had stubble, too. I can never touch his face again.
“How long were you and Mr. Summers married?”
“A little over two years.”
“Was your relationship ever violent?”
I close my eyes. She’s judging me. I hear it in the tone of her voice. “Not at first. It started a few months after the marriage,” I explain, “He would throw objects at me in moments of anger, then the hitting started.”
“What about rape?”
I blink at the intrusive question and nod.
“Is this yes?” she asks.
“Yes, there were times he raped me.” I try to keep my head up, even though my voice is shaking. I remind myself that I have nothing to be ashamed of.
“And you never filed a report with the police?”
“I tried, but Michael had documents saying I was mentally incompetent. He became my legal guardian, so they didn’t take me seriously.”
“About the documents...” She flips back through her notebook, looking for something. “Mr. Wolf claimed that they were fake?”
“Mr. Wolf?”
“Yes, Ethan Wolf. This is the third person who was in the cabin. You know him, correct?”
I nod.
“He called the police the day before the incident, claimed that your husband kidnapped you and that all the documents were fake. The officers who visited your home in San Francisco found nothing suspicious, and therefore the complaint was closed.” She peers into my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
If they had kept checking, perhaps Ethan wouldn’t have been hurt. He could have been alive now. “Yes, they were fake. I have never been to these doctors.”
“It says here that you were staying in New York for a few months?”
I nod again.
“Can you explain to me the sequence of events? How did you get to New York and then from New York back here?”
“I ran away to New York a few months ago because I was afraid of Michael. I believed he was going to kill me. But he tracked me down in New York too.” I stop to take a breath. “He killed my friend!” My voice breaks as I remember poor Robin. She wasn’t nice to me, but she didn’t deserve to die. No one deserved to die but him.
The detective looks up from her notebook. “Killed your friend?”
“Yes. Robin Moyes, who worked with me at Lunis. It’s a bar in New York. He admitted it to me. She told him where I was and asked him for money. He staged her suicide. She didn’t kill herself. He killed her. He’s a murderer.”
“Do you have proof?”
I shake my head. “No. But he told me that he did.”
She exchanges a look with the police officer next to her, and he starts typing into his phone. “We’ll have to check it out.”
I nod.
“What is the relationship between you and Ethan Wolf?” She raises her eyes, staring at me.
I glance at my hands, clenched tight on my lap. What can I tell her? That he’s the love of my life? My lover? How can I define our relationship?
