It's Always the Husband

“Maybe you planted it there before you took the pictures. Maybe you didn’t. Either way, it means nothing. Tim has a defense a mile wide, and besides, he has an alibi for the time when Kate went missing.”

He did, since Jenny would say he was with her, even though that was not true.

“I’m sure he has an alibi,” Robbie said. “But the last thing you want is for Tim to be put in the position of getting arrested and having to defend himself. That would be a nightmare for you and your family. It would be much better if this piece of evidence never sees the light of day. And for that, yes, you need my help. You need me to go against procedure and suppress evidence, which is not something I take lightly. I’d consider doing it for the good of this town, but then I would need you to put the town first as well, and move against Rizzo even if the timing doesn’t seem convenient right now.”

They were at an impasse. Jenny couldn’t predict what Robbie would do if she said no. She had no choice but to give him what he wanted, or else he could make big trouble for Tim. But Jenny would make damn sure that she and her family were fully protected in return.

“I want to be clear where you stand, Rob. You agree that Tim had nothing to do with Kate Eastman’s death,” Jenny said.

“Of course. No argument with that.”

“All right,” Jenny said with a sigh. “Here’s what I propose. I will do everything in my power starting first thing tomorrow morning to get Owen Rizzo fired and make you chief of police. I won’t stop till I succeed, even if it means getting the college involved to pressure the town council. But I want a few things in return. I want that hat back right now. I want the pictures of it deleted from your phone. And I want us to agree that we stop this witch hunt pronto. Kate Eastman killed herself, period. Griff Rothenberg needs to be released. Unless they find a murder weapon in Ethan Saxman’s car, which I highly doubt, we should leave him out of this, too, and not risk another failed investigation. Kate’s death was a suicide. The sooner we can get the ME to rule it one, the better for this town, and for everyone involved.”

“Agreed.”

“Good. Now, hand me your phone so I can delete those pictures.”

Robbie took out his phone and scrolled through his photos. He handed the phone to Jenny, and her heart sank. The hat, stuck on the dilapidated fence, looked so natural, and so incriminating. She could imagine exactly how the wind took it off Tim’s head and deposited it there. Pictures could be doctored, yes, but these looked genuine, and with a sick feeling in her stomach, Jenny faced the possibility that her husband had murdered her old friend. She deleted the photos, and gave the phone back. Then she took the plastic evidence envelope with the hat inside, and shoved it into her handbag.

“I hope this unfortunate piece of business won’t impact our friendship,” Robbie said, “since I plan on us working together for many years to come.”

“I’ll get over it. I appreciate you coming to me first, so that we could work out a satisfactory arrangement.”

“Friends?” he asked, extending his hand.

“Friends,” she said, shaking it.

“Have a good night,” Robbie said, and got out of the minivan.

Jenny watched him walk back to his car and drive away. Once he was gone, she took the sealed plastic evidence envelope from her handbag and, using the sharp tip of a pen, ripped it open savagely. She held the cap to her face, and breathed in her husband’s scent. Jenny had known Tim Healy her whole life. She’d been married to him for sixteen years. She knew that Tim had never been the same after suffering a head injury on that awful night. He was unpredictable at times, even angry, but she never would have thought him capable of hurting Kate. Jenny knew Tim’s face better than she knew her own. She knew when he’d had a tough day at work, when he was sad, when a migraine was coming on (he’d suffered from them ever since that night), and when he was feeling especially in love with her or the kids. She knew what he did all day, whom he saw, where he went—or so she thought. But people could fool you pretty easily, even people you loved. All they had to do was lie, or choose not to tell the whole truth. Jenny should know. She’d lied to Tim for years about Lucas’s death, though maybe what she’d learned tonight was that she hadn’t gotten away with it.

It was nearly nine by the time she got home. The kids were upstairs getting ready for bed. A scrawled note on the kitchen table in Tim’s messy handwriting said “pizza in oven.” Suddenly she was starving. She grabbed the foil-covered packet out of the oven with her bare hand, and stood at the stove, wolfing down a slice, as Tim walked in.

“Hey, babe,” he said. “How’d your meeting go?”

Jenny wiped her mouth with a napkin. For the first time since last Friday, Tim sounded relaxed, normal, like his old self. Things between them were just beginning to feel right again. Jenny didn’t want to risk that, and yet she couldn’t ignore the terrible suspicion in her heart. She had to know.

“My meeting was … strange,” she said.

“Strange, how?”

She walked over to the table, and pulled his cap out of her handbag.

“Robbie Womack gave me this. He found it at the old railroad bridge, stuck on the fence where the No Trespassing sign is.”

Jenny collapsed into the chair as if she’d used her last ounce of energy showing him the hat. Tim came and sat down across from her. He picked it up and looked at it like the hat was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

“What did Robbie say?” Tim asked finally.

“That he wouldn’t tell anyone. That he understood the cap being there didn’t mean anything.”

Tim nodded. “That’s good.”

She took his hand and looked into his eyes. “What does it mean, Tim?”

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been working up my courage to tell you this, but it’s hard.”

“Go on.”

“Last week, I ran into Aubrey at Shecky’s.”

“Aubrey?”

He nodded. “It was Lucas’s birthday that day. Aubrey walked in, we got to talking, and at one point she asked if I knew the truth about Lucas’s death. And then she told me. She told me the thing you’ve been keeping from me for twenty-two years, Jen. That Kate killed him, deliberately.”

Jenny looked down at the table. Tears gathered in her eyes. “It’s true,” she whispered. “I lied. I guess you know that now. I’m so, so sorry, Tim. And I want us to talk about that. But first I have to ask. What happened after Aubrey told you this?”

“Aubrey said that she could get Kate to apologize. I should meet them at the parking lot near the old railroad bridge. I thought finally, after all these years, Kate’s coming clean.”

That goddamned Aubrey. This was all her doing. Aubrey had been looking to get back at Kate and Jenny both. A wave of pity for her poor husband swept over Jenny. Tim was no match for Aubrey, or for any one of the three of them. Tim was an innocent compared to them, a lamb among wolves. She should have protected him better.

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