Chapter 27

I spent the rest of the evening doing frantic searches across social media and the forum trying to figure out who the woman was, staying up late into the night and nearly sleeping through my alarm in the morning, only to have her identity revealed upon the start of testimony. Her name was Alexis Hutchington and she was a longtime friend of William and the Thompson family.

The bright lights of the courthouse only emphasized her beauty. Her skin was smooth, devoid of the creases that had already started to plague my own forehead. I wondered if she did Botox. Though her friendship with William probably meant that my suspicions of an affair between her and Mark were misguided, I was still wary of Alexis.

"How would you describe your relationship with William?" the defense attorney asked.

Alexis fiddled with the necklace at her throat. Even at a distance, I could tell that her manicure was perfect.

"We've been friends since we were ten or eleven, somewhere around there," she said.

I experienced an aching jealousy that she'd met versions of William that I'd never know. For better or for worse, the William that I knew would always be a man accused of serial murder, the kind of identity that was impossible to escape.

"How did you and William meet?"

"Our parents are friends. Our dads played golf together. The two of us would always sneak off together during parties."

I imagined the two of them finding hiding places in the kind of mansion that I'd only ever seen on television. Later, as teenagers, they would abscond with liquor, getting drunk before they were legally allowed. My own high school friends were too well-behaved for such behavior. I didn't even know where to get ahold of alcohol if I wanted it. Those poor little rich kids, having to entertain themselves while their parents threw parties.

"Tell us about your friendship as adults."

"We see—saw—each other every couple of weeks. I recently went through a bad breakup and William was very supportive of me during that time."

What did she mean by "supportive"? Had William comforted her while she cried? Brought her ice cream and watched the 2005 version of Pride Prejudice the way that Meghan used to for me? Or was it a different kind of comfort? One where the two of them made love and agreed that if they weren't married by the time that they were forty, they would marry each other. I wished that Bentley was at the trial so that I could question him. Maybe he knew things about their friendship that Alexis was unwilling to admit on the stand.

"Did you ever hear him mention the names of Anna Leigh, Kimberly, Jill, or Emma?" the defense attorney asked.

Alexis swallowed.

"He mentioned Emma before they went on a date together. He was excited. Not any of the other names, no."

"What did he tell you about Emma specifically?"

"He told me that he was excited for the date. William has always been very focused on his career and I think that's made dating difficult for him. He said that Emma was smart. They had great conversations."

"Did you ever get the sense that he was going to harm Emma?"

"No, no. Of course not. I didn't think—I never thought—that William would harm anyone. He's always cared so much about other people."

I looked at the back of William's head as he gazed at his longtime friend.

If William had killed those other women, what had stopped him from killing Alexis? I was no killer, but looking at the woman on the stand, she seemed a perfect kind of victim—beautiful and easy for him to access. Maybe he cared for her too much or not enough for her to die. I couldn't decide whether to be jealous of her because of her closeness with William or relieved that she was still living as proof that William could spend time with a woman without needing her to die.

I comforted myself with the fact that I was the one that William was writing letters to, the one that he'd asked to be his girlfriend. No matter what Alexis knew or had experienced, I had something she didn't and I liked that. I took the packet of letters out of my purse and held them close to me like a woman grabbing her boyfriend's arm in a public space in order to stake her claim.