I grab my phone and call Martin.
* * *
It takes all day, but Martin finally gets Genevieve released on bail. They arrested her after finding what they claim is the murder weapon. A rock from Genevieve’s garden. There aren’t any clear prints on it, just partial, but there is a smidge of Harrison’s blood and hair from when it struck him in the head. And since the rock is from her garden, they felt it was enough to bring her in officially.
It wasn’t.
And Martin made sure everyone was aware of that when she went before the judge. It’s amazing how quickly high-profile cases get handled when the authorities want them to be.
A condition of Genevieve’s bail was a modified house arrest, so she’s wearing an ankle monitor to ensure she doesn’t go anywhere she’s not supposed to. She gets a 5-mile radius from home. She walks sluggishly toward the house, shaking her left leg every so often to situate the monitor.
“It’s going to be okay,” I remind her. She doesn’t respond. I know she’s shocked and upset. I don’t blame her. We get in the house, and I open a bottle of wine to pour her a glass. Hoping it will calm her a bit. “There’s no proof, Genevieve.”
She spins to face me. “What does it matter? They still arrested me. Everyone thinks I did it. I can’t prove I didn’t. The police know we slept together last night, that part was obvious. Which just lends to their belief I’m guilty. Can you just see the headlines: ‘Genevieve Daniels kills husband to be with ex-lover,’ or ‘Genevieve Daniels has ex-lover help with investigation when she’s the suspect.’
I hang my head in shame, knowing I was instrumental in that. “I’m sorry. That was my fault.”
“I wanted it just as much as you did,” she says. “There’s no one to blame.”
“We figure out how to access the surveillance videos and get them submitted, it’s a no brainer, babe. Al is working on the access now.”
“I hope he knows what he’s doing.”
“Al’s a woman, baby. No one’s better than her.”
“Oh.”
I know that look. I’ve talked about Al quite a bit and even flirted with her a little over the phone in front of Genevieve. I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s jealous.
“Genevieve, Al’s not, uh, anyone I mess with. I mean we have, but wedon’t, we’re just friends, okay?”
“You slept with her?”
“I’ve slept with a lot of women in the past four years.”
“Oh, my god, I can’t do this.” She sinks to the ground and buries her head between her knees.
“Did you think I just stopped having sex because you weren’t available?” Part of me means to piss her off when I say that. “It sure as fuck didn’t stop you.” And that.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“No.”
“I didn’t have a choice!” she screams.
“You absolutely had a choice.”
“You were gone.”
“It was my job!” I yell.
She buries her face in her hands and sobs.
“You knew I would come back, Genevieve. I always did.”
“I made a mistake,” she cries. “A stupid, stupid mistake.”
I sit on the floor next to her and pull her into my lap. “Shhh. It’s okay.”
