Chapter 19
DAY 4
"Dr. Lucy Quist, we'd like you to come with us."
That was the first thing I heard when Detectives Stacy and Russel showed up at my house early in the morning.
"On what basis?" I asked, keeping my voice even.
"The murder of your husband. You're a prime suspect, and we have questions."
I looked at Stacy's face, steady, resolute. It surprised me. The last time we met, she had been a mess. But now, there was fire in her eyes. That familiar twinge of dread curled in my stomach. My instincts never fail me.
I turned and saw some of my staff standing in the hallway, watching in hushed concern. Their wide-eyed stares made my insides twist.
"I'll get dressed. And I'm calling my lawyer," I said, already heading upstairs.
My mind spiraled. What had they found? What linked me to Gerald's death?
By the time I came back down, the detectives were still waiting at the door. Good. That meant they were being cautious, respectful, even.
I walked past them and stood by the police car, silently demanding the door be opened. Russel obliged, and I slid into the backseat with practiced calm. I had called my lawyer and notified the Commissioner. As far as I was concerned, this was just a formality.
The drive to the station was quiet. The silence didn't bother me, but it was heavy. Charged.
I studied Russel as he drove. His bulky frame, his stoic demeanor. A man like him was dangerous, unreadable. Beside him, Stacy leaned against the window, her furrowed brows deep in thought. She looked tired but focused.
When we arrived, Russel opened the door for me. We skipped the holding rooms and went straight to their office. A small relief. They were giving me the treatment I deserved.
The office was one of four cubicles encased in glass. It was cluttered, cables tangling with paper files, computers humming faintly on the long table. Clearly, they were working overtime.
Stacy returned with a tray, placing a bottle of water in front of me. Russel stood quietly in the corner, his gaze heavy. We locked eyes for a moment before I looked away.
"You didn't bring me here for a chat," I said, breaking the silence.
"Was there a problem in your marriage?" Russel asked.
"Every marriage has problems."
"Was he abusive?"
I froze.
The memory was sharp, Gerald, drunk and furious, turning me into a punching bag. Then forcing himself on me. I remembered lying there, numb, broken, staring at the ceiling.
No one had ever asked me that question before.
"He had a temper," I said quietly, avoiding Stacy's eyes. Her expression had shifted, subtle shock. Russel finally sat down across from me, leaning in.
"We'll begin recording now," he said. I nodded.
Stacy placed her phone on the table and hit record.
"We went through Gerald's call logs. You usually called him at 8 p.m. every day. But the night he died, you called at 7:30 p.m., just after your stepson left the office. Why the change?"
"I had a meeting at 8. So I called early."
"He died exactly at 8. Your call lasted five minutes. You could've still called later."
Because I had to be sure he died on schedule. I smiled inwardly.
"Does it matter what time I call? My patients don't work on the clock," I said smoothly. "Ask Stacy. Her niece was in my office at 6 a.m. once. I'm sure she told you."
"She did," Stacy said tightly.
Russel nodded, glancing at the notes in front of him.
"Do you want the killer caught?" he asked.
"Of course. He killed someone. He should be caught."
"Well," he said, leaning back, arms folded, "he's been caught."
The air shifted. He was playing me, testing what I knew. I glanced outside the glass walls. The Chief of Police was watching. The Commissioner stood beside him.
Something was wrong.
"Is there something I should know?" I asked. The Commissioner refused to meet my eyes.
"I'm not answering anything until my lawyer gets here."
Russel nodded and stopped the recording. Then he left the room.
I was alone with Stacy.
"You must be really good at your job," she said quietly. "I used to wonder why you were the way you are. Now I get it. You were never taken seriously growing up. Always had to prove yourself, claw for recognition."
"What are you implying?" I asked coldly.
"You made it to step nine, then stopped, thinking step ten would conquer itself. But you missed it."
She stood inches from my face, bending to meet my eyes. I smiled, unbothered.
"What makes you so sure?"
"You'll see."
The door opened. The Commissioner entered, face grim.
"Leave us," he said to Stacy. She saluted and exited.
He stood facing the wall, hands on his waist. Then sighed and turned to me. His eyes held something I hadn't seen in a long time, fear.
"Where's my lawyer?" I asked. "I called him over an hour ago."
"You really messed up, Lucy. What were you thinking?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"They know everything. All of it. And they're not going to cover it up this time. You killed people."
Outside, more officers had gathered. One whispered something into Russel's ear. I grabbed the bottle of water, opened it, and drank my throat dry with panic.
"You said you'd take care of it," I said quietly.
He scoffed.
"They showed up at my house at 1 a.m., Lucy. Threatened to leak everything. You think this ends quietly?"
"That's your mess to clean. You handed me Cole. You hid it from the public. You fix it. Or I go public."
"You think the Minister will let you do that?" he laughed bitterly. "You ready for what he wants? I could retire, sure. But you?"
I stared at him, furious. But I knew if he was here in person, then they had everything.
"There's a way out," he offered. "You'll do two years. Lose your license. But your assets stay intact. And there'll be 20 million waiting for you."
I scoffed.
"Make it 50."
He banged the table once. "Done."
He made a call. Minutes later, my lawyer walked in with a document. I didn't even look at him. I just read, signed, and handed it back.
"Now we're clear," the Commissioner said, sitting again. "You're severed from the government. No links, no history. Your story? Gerald's death only. Cole's obsession is on him. Your office has already been cleaned out. All data gone."
I nodded.
"Your little hero game ends here. You'll be released for lack of evidence. But step out of line, and you're on your own."
"I was trying to help," I muttered. "You did nothing. For all you know, you could've been next."
He gave me a long look. "You're crazy." Then he left.
I threw the bottle across the room and screamed, long and loud. It echoed around the glass. Then I fixed my hair, smoothed my blouse, and sat back down.
Stacy rushed in.
I smiled. "Get me another bottle. Looks like I'll be here a while."
She stared in shock. I gestured to the shattered one on the floor. She said nothing and left.
My mind was blank. No room for second thoughts. I had made my choice.
Russel returned and sat across from me again.
"David was a miscalculation, wasn't he?" he asked. "You thought he was just another abuser. But you didn't know what family banter looked like."
I didn't answer. Couldn't. His gaze burned through me.
"He was trying. Trying to bond with Jamie. He was a good man, Lucy. And you killed him. One innocent blood stains the whole mission."
My jaw clenched. Still, I said nothing.
"You always take the easy way out. Maybe that's why no one ever stuck around."
He stood and walked away.
I met Stacy's teary gaze through the glass, but quickly looked away. I took another sip of water, staring at my hands.
Three hours passed.
Two female officers finally entered. I stood and walked between them, toward the holding cells.
Just then, Cole was brought in cuffed, flanked by guards.
As he passed me, he stopped. Leaned in.
He whispered something in my ear.
I froze.
My breath caught. My limbs went numb. For the first time in a long time, I was terrified.
He smirked.
And walked away.