CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"That's pretty disturbing," Sean says.

He doesn't seem so enthusiastic about the discovery, though.

We're talking on my balcony. It's eight o'clock now, and Catherine and the children still haven't come home. For a brief moment, I'm worried, but Catherine calls Sophie around seven to say that there's no need to wait up for them, and when she does, I hear Sophie talk briefly to the children, so I know that she hasn't absconded with them or, God forbid, harmed them.

I suppose I must allow for the possibility that she truly cares for them. Still, there's no mistaking what I saw on that security footage.

Except that Sean then voices his reason for his lack of enthusiasm. "I'm not saying that Catherine is for sure not the murderer, but , I've looked some more into her relationship with Hugo. It turns out that they have some history."

"Doesn't that support my suspicion?"

"Not necessarily. They were romantically involved for three months before Catherine met Frederick, but they kept the relationship private. I've uncovered correspondence between them that suggests that she broke off the relationship because she had fallen in love with Frederick and didn't feel the same for Hugo."

"Well, that's nice, but it's twenty years later, and she's disappeared in the direction of her husband's dead body and rekindled that romance within minutes of his death."

"I'm not denying that. But I've uncovered plenty of correspondence over the years where Hugo begs for her to take him back, and she consistently refuses. Even during the past few years, when she admits to no longer loving Frederick, she is firm in her belief that it would be wrong to cheat on him."

"But she doesn't believe it's wrong to hop into bed with Hugo the very night her husband is discovered dead? If you're trying to convince me that she's innocent, Sean, you've done a very poor job of it."

"I'm not trying to convince you that she's innocent. But I'm saying that she could have merely decided to finally give in after years of wishing she could."

"And perhaps she's enabled that by murdering Frederick."

"Perhaps, but… call it a hunch. I think we might be chasing a red herring."

I sigh. "What do you think, then?"

"I don't know. What I do know is that asking you to stay out of this is a waste of my time, since you've now been so bold as to look through security camera footage in Catherine Jensen's bedroom for God's sake. So, since I can't convince you to stop, I'll convince you to keep looking instead."

"Looking for what?"

"Anything. Anything that might indicate that someone had a motive to want Frederick dead."

"Well, I've found out his wife was romantically involved with another man and was quite possibly at the scene of the crime," I reply drily. "Does that count?"

"Of course it does, and I'll take this information into consideration and keep looking. But consider something too, Mary. You went to me, not Dubois. If you were absolutely certain that she was the killer, you'd have gone straight to him with this information, right?"

My lips thin. Reluctantly, I admit, "Right."

"But you didn't. That means you know this evidence is damning, but you're not convinced it's enough to prove that she's your murderer. So you didn't give Dubois this information because you don't want to risk him arresting Catherine until you're sure she's the right person. Does that sound correct?"

I sigh. "Yes."

"Very well. So let's dispel all doubts. I get that my doubts are thin, and I'm sure yours are as well, but my hunches have served me well over the years. I assume you can say the same thing."

"Yes."

"Okay. So keep looking while staying as safe as you can convince yourself to be. Better yet, just let the police handle the whole thing, but you won't, so my first piece of advice stands."

"For now," I agree, "but I won't be convinced of Catherine's innocence based on a hunch. If I don't find better evidence soon, I will go to the police with this."

"And this case will finally close, and I can get back to looking for your sister. Which was the reason you hired me in the first place."

I feel a pang at that and decide I don't want to talk to Sean any more right now. "I'll call you later."

I hang up before he can respond and heave a sigh. I don't appreciate him making me feel guilty for putting our investigation into Annie on hold. I understand his point, but it's just not fair of him to expect me to turn a blind eye to the injustice these children have suffered. Their father was taken from them, and I will do what I can to find their killer.

Why you? I can hear him ask. Why does it have to be you?

"Because I won't rest until justice is found," I say out loud. "I won't stop until the killer is punished for the crime."

I remain where I am for a while, looking out over the darkening night. Then I walk inside and head downstairs. It's still early in the night, but the servants have all retired. Catherine and the children are still out. I've found what I can from Catherine's room, so I head to Frederick's study instead. If the bedrooms are the secret boxes of wealthy women, then studies are the secret boxes of wealthy men. I found as much from Johnathan Ashford's study as I did from Cecilia Ashford's bedroom.

I should be careful about comparing the cases too much. They have their similarities, of course, but they have many crucial differences as well. Perhaps that is the reason I don't go to the police with the footage of Catherine yet. I believe that she murdered her husband, but I wonder if I believe that only because Cecilia Ashford murdered hers.

Sean is right. I need more.

I open Frederick's desktop, but unlike Cecilia's bedroom computer, his is password protected. I call Sean, and he answers, "Have you called to apologize?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm sorry you're an insufferable fool. I need your help with something."

"How like a woman to call a man a fool then ask for his help."

"Save it for the pub. I'm trying to crack into Frederick's computer."

"Seriously? How did you get in the first time?"

"Not the bedroom computer. The one in the study."

Sean sighs. "You're asking me to crack into a system over the phone?"

"To help me crack into it."

He groans, and I can imagine him rubbing his temples. "I'll do what I can, but I think you might have to give up on this idea. Have you tried his birthday yet?"

I type the numbers in, and the computer opens to the desktop. I blink in surprise. "Surely it's not usually this easy."

"You'd be surprised. All right. Was there anything else?"

"Well, you're here, so you might as well remain on the line."

"Might as well," he says drily.

I open the internet browser. The home page is his email account. The inbox is full of business emails. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"What are you looking at now?" Sean asks.

"Emails."

"You won't find anything in the main inboxes. You'll be looking for a password-protected folder in the archived messages. It'll be labeled something innocuous like spam or miscellaneous."

I open the archived messages and peruse the folders. There is a miscellaneous folder, but it's not password protected, and when I scan the emails, I see only old financial reports.

I try spam, and when it asks for a password, my heart races. "It's asking for a password."

"Hmm… Let's try… oh-four-oh-four-twenty-three."

"What's that?"

"That's the date Veronica Baines started working for Jensen Wealth Management."

I lift my eyebrow and type in the numbers. The folder opens, and I see a single email thread between Veronica Baines and Frederick Jensen. I pump my fist in excitement. "Sean, you brilliant fool."

"An oxymoronic badge I will wear with pride," he says wryly. "I can't see the screen, so tell me what we have. Is it juicy?"

I read the emails, starting with the most recent and working backwards. "Oh yes," I reply, "Very juicy."

The first email I read—the last sent between them—is from Veronica to Frederick. It's an image of an airline ticket. Above the image is the phrase, See you soon, love, followed by a heart emoji.

Things get considerably worse from there. I read this story backwards, but if I were to arrange it chronologically, I would summarize it by saying that Veronica and Frederick begin an emotional affair almost immediately after she began working for Jensen Wealth Management. After about six months, that emotional affair becomes physical, as evidenced by a number of pictures I would rather have not seen. Sean rather enthusiastically asks me to forward him copies of these emails, and I choose to believe it's because he wants them as evidence.

Beginning nine weeks before Frederick's death, he tries to put an end to the affair. This is when things become sobering.

Veronica takes it badly. Very badly. At first, it is simple name-calling and degradation, but when Frederick threatens to fire her, she emails him dozens of pictures and videos of their time together and threatens to tell Catherine about the affair. He threatens to ruin her, and she threatens to, and I quote, "Allow you to live just long enough to regret the day you ever met me."

Because humans are inexplicable creatures, Veronica sends an apology email three days later, and four days after that—a week before Frederick's death—Frederick forgives her, apologizes for getting cold feet, and says he wants to be with her for the rest of his life.

"See, this is some solid evidence," Sean says. "This is an actual, tangible threat. I think we should—"

The sound of shouting causes me to flinch. "Hush, Sean."

"What?" he says, concerned. "What is it?"

"Just hush."

I hear the shouting come closer and recognize the voice as Olivia's. I curse inwardly. I know she has a habit of coming to her father's study. If she catches me here, I won't be able to defend my presence. She already suspects me of snooping.

"I have to go."

"Shit. Is everything okay?"

"For now, yes," I say, quickly closing the emails and shutting down the computer, "but if I'm still in this room in thirty seconds, it won't be. I'll call you later."

"All right. Be safe."

I hang up and rush from the room without being caught. When I know I'm safe, my mind returns to the evidence I've just uncovered.

I'm not yet convinced that Catherine is innocent, but there's no doubt that Veronica is at least as viable a suspect as she. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Perhaps Frederick got cold feet again while Veronica was out here. Perhaps Veronica made good on her threat to let him live just long enough to regret the day he met her.