Chapter 9 - The Wife Before Me
Andrew had told me his first marriage ended because his wife was irresponsible and dishonest.
I knew her as a name on a divorce decree: Caroline Marsh.
He said she had moved overseas, and he made it clear that asking about her was disrespectful.
Gabriel found that Caroline had never left the country.
She lived ninety miles away, worked at a public library, and had changed her name after the divorce.
She agreed to meet us at a community center, with her own counsel present.
Caroline looked ordinary, which somehow made the meeting more terrible.
There were no dramatic scars, no theatrical bitterness.
Only a woman who kept her chair close to the exit.
“He didn't start with the money,” she told me.
“He started by telling me who I could trust.”
She described canceled visits, intercepted calls, and arguments that ended with her apologizing for things she had not done.
Then one afternoon she found an account opened using her identity.
When she challenged Andrew, he accused her of stealing from his family.
“I tried to report it,” she said.
“Victor Sloane told me I had misunderstood the records.”
She had recorded that conversation, but the file disappeared after someone broke into her apartment.
“What happened to your complaint?” I asked.
“My attorney was told it had been referred for review.”
Caroline's hands trembled.
“Three weeks later, Andrew offered me a divorce agreement I couldn't afford to refuse.”
She had signed because she wanted her life back.
I wanted to ask why she hadn't warned me, but I knew how cruel the question would sound.
Caroline looked at my wedding ring, which I had removed and placed in my pocket.
“I saw your engagement announcement,” she said.
“I wrote a letter, but it came back unopened.”
“Andrew said you were dangerous.”
“I know.”
She reached into her bag and gave me a copy of the envelope.
It was addressed to the apartment where I lived before the wedding.
In the corner, written across the front in Andrew's handwriting, were the words RETURN TO SENDER.
Caroline had not abandoned me to his lies.
He had made sure her warning never arrived.
Before leaving, she remembered one more detail.
“His mother keeps a green ledger,” she said.
“Not in a safe. Somewhere she thinks nobody would ever search.”
At the Callahan estate, Eleanor was pacing beside the kitchen refrigerator.
Her longtime housekeeper, Ada Brooks, watched her lift a sealed package from beneath the vegetable drawer.
It was wrapped in wax paper.
Inside was a slim green book.
Eleanor pressed it against her chest.
Then she heard the front gate open.
May you like
A process server had arrived with a subpoena bearing her name.
