Chapter 44

The dining roomtable is buried under mountains of paper. Half-empty cups of coffee, sweet tea, and no-longer fizzy water litter the remaining space. Maisy’s dirty hair is piled on the top of her head in a loose bun. She reaches for the nearest glass, eyes its contents with suspicion, and decides to get a fresh drink.

As she walks past Jordana on her way to the kitchen, she takes a sniff.

“Did you just smell me?”

“You smell how I look,” Maisy informs her. “As soon as the episode is in the can, we’re cleaning the dining room and then ourselves. This state is unacceptable.”

“This state is crunch time,” Jordana counters. “You should see the conference rooms at the law firm when they have a big filing. They look way worse than this.”

“Even so.”

Jordana jabs a button on her laptop and pulls her headphones off her head. “Anyway, we’re done.”

“We’re done?”

“Locked and loaded.”

The final episode of the second season of The Farley Files will hit mobile phones, computers, and streaming devices at seven o’clock the next morning—perfectly timed for listening to during the morning commute and while getting the kids out the door for school. Now all that’s left to do is wait.

Well, Maisy has one more task. But that’s for her to do alone.

Jordana has grabbed a trash bag and is making her way around the table. Maisy takes it from her.

“Go home. Shower. Sleep. I’ll take care of this.”

“But you just said?—”

“You’ve been awake for thirty hours. I’ve changed my mind. Plus, you smell like a gerbil.”

Jordana yawns. “You’re the boss.”

“Nice work,” Maisy tells her. “I’d hug you, but?—”

“Yeah, yeah, I smell like a gerbil. I don’t know how to break this to you, but you’re not exactly fresh as a daisy either.”

One hourand eleven minutes later, Maisy is fresh as a daisy. She’s showered, coiffed, and made up using the techniques she’s learned from Jordana and YouTube makeup tutorials. Dressed in a crisp pink dress and matching blazer, she breezes through security and checks in at the visitation booth at the Allegheny County Jail fifteen minutes early for her appointment.

A guard leads Rich Marino into the other side of the booth. She studies him through the glass. He’s aged during the past week. His skin is sallow and his eyes are rimmed with red. But when he picks up the phone and gestures for her to do the same, his voice is full of bravado.

“Changed your mind, huh?”

“Nope.”

His eyes widen in surprise, then, a beat later, narrow in anger. She doesn’t bother to suppress her smile.

“You don’t want to interview me?”

“Sure don’t.”

“Your loss. True Crime TV was here this morning. And your old television station sent over a lovely young woman. Summer something or other. She could pass for your daughter.”

She laughs. He’s so obviously trying to get under her skin that she’d have to be a child to take his bait.

But she does say, “The Farley Files focuses on the victims of crimes, not the perpetrators. That’s why I’ll be airing an interview with Andre Newport’s aunt, but not with you.”

His face darkens. “But you interviewed Heather, didn’t you?”

This is why she’s here sitting in this faintly sticky molded plastic chair and trying to touch as few surfaces as possible.

So she pauses to savor the moment before she says, “You should really listen tomorrow. If they allow that in here. One of the guests is going to explain how Frank killed Andre. Frank, not Chloe.”

“There’s no way someone can say that without exhuming his body to autopsy it. And last I heard, the police can’t find it.” He tips his chair back on two legs and gives her a smug smile.

“Wrong on both counts, Rich. My expert is confident he knows the cause of death, and he has the chops to back up his opinion. And Frank and Brett are out at Dead Man’s Hollow with the police right now showing them where to dig.”

His jaw hinges open and he gapes at her for a long moment.

She has one final parting shot to make before she gets out of this cesspool of misery. “I know you consider yourself a white knight because you thought you were protecting Heather. But she and her sisters consider you a monster because you didn’t give a single thought to Andre Newport. As a father, you should try to imagine the heartbreak you caused his family. If you can’t, Rich, there’s no hope for you.”

She returns the phone to the receiver and walks out of the box without a backward glance.