Chapter 39 - The Husband I Buried

Now

My phone rang as I was pulling on a jacket.

Unknown caller.

They took their time letting her make her call.

‘Mackenzie?’ Rebecca’s voice was thin, controlled to the point of breaking. ‘They arrested me.’

‘Where are you?’ I asked.

‘County. Intake just finished. They—’ She swallowed. ‘They said I can make one call and recommended I call my lawyer.’

‘I’m on my way,’ I said. ‘Do not talk to anyone else. Not a word.’

‘I didn’t,’ she said quickly. ‘I asked for you.’

‘Good,’ I replied. ‘I’ll be there in twenty.’

I hung up and grabbed my keys.

*

The county jail squatted low and unlovely against a slate-gray sky, concrete softened only by a chain-link perimeter and a flag snapping in the wind. Inside, everything smelled faintly of disinfectant and metal.

I showed my bar card and signed the log. The officer behind the glass studied me, then nodded toward a row of plastic chairs.

‘Attorney visit,’ she said. ‘She’s in holding. We’ll bring her through.’

I waited.

When Rebecca appeared, escorted by a female officer, she looked smaller than she had in the café. No makeup. Hair pulled back with an elastic that had seen better days. She looked like a different woman. She sighed when she saw me – relieved.

They led us into a narrow interview room. No window. A bolted table. Two chairs. A camera dome in the corner. The officer closed the door. ‘You’ve got thirty minutes,’ she said. ‘Knock when you’re done.’

Rebecca sat as soon as the door shut. I didn’t.

‘Did they read you your rights?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Did you answer any questions?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I told them I wanted my lawyer.’

I nodded and sat. ‘Good. Like we discussed before, you say nothing without me present. They might try to get you to talk. If that happens, you don’t make eye contact. You just ask for me.’

Her hands were shaking. She folded them together and tucked them under the table like she was ashamed of them. ‘What are they charging me with?’ she asked.

‘Arson resulting in death,’ I said. ‘They’ll call it homicide, but don’t let that worry you.’

Her breath caught. ‘They said they found something,’ she whispered. ‘They wouldn’t tell me what.’

‘That’s normal,’ I said. ‘They might’ve found something they think is of importance when they executed the warrant, but that doesn’t mean it is. Or that they can use it in court.’ I paused. ‘They’re going to hold you overnight. You’ll be arraigned in the morning.’ Then I remembered it was Saturday so there could be delays over the weekend. ‘Or Monday. I’ll be there. We’ll argue bail.’

‘I can’t stay here,’ she said, panic leaking through the composure. ‘I can’t—’

‘You can,’ I said. ‘And you will. This is temporary. What matters is what you don’t do.’

She swallowed hard.

‘Rebecca, why do you think they detained you?’

She looked down at the table. ‘I don’t know. I told you what happened.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But I’m asking if there’s something you didn’t tell me.’

Her jaw tightened. ‘I panicked,’ she said. ‘I left. I didn’t call for help. I’ve already told you that.’ She looked increasingly anxious. ‘I don’t know what else you want me to say.’

‘I want to make sure I’m not walking in blind,’ I said. ‘Because once we’re in front of a judge, your credibility matters. If it looks like you lied to me, they’ll assume you’re lying to them.’

Her eyes flicked up. ‘Are you saying you don’t believe me?’

‘I’m saying belief doesn’t keep people out of jail,’ I said gently. ‘Facts do.’

She leaned back, crossing her arms, a defensive posture I’d seen a hundred times before. ‘There is nothing else,’ she said. ‘I didn’t light the fire.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Then this is how it’s going to work.’

I laid it out simply. Bail strategy. No contact with anyone but me. No calls, no messages, no passing notes. If anyone tried to talk – guards, other inmates, investigators – she says one sentence and one sentence only: ‘I’m represented by counsel.’

Rebecca nodded, repeating it under her breath like a mantra.

The officer knocked on the door. ‘Time,’ she said.

I stood. Rebecca did too, but hesitating, like she wanted to say something else.

She didn’t get a chance. The officer opened the door, ushering her out of the room. As they led her away, Rebecca looked back once, fear and something else flickering across her face.

I needed to find out exactly what the police thought they had – and why they’d decided to move now – but if I asked here, I’d just get the runaround.

I was halfway down the corridor when my phone buzzed.

Carl.

I answered the phone and walked out the doors, straight to my car. ‘You must’ve heard me thinking about you,’ I joked.

‘I’m flattered,’ he said, laughing.

I updated him on my meeting with Rebecca.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘I was wondering when she’d call.’

‘I was just about to call and see if you figured out why they moved now.’

‘Off the record,’ he started, code for he didn’t have it in any official terms yet, ‘it was because of the blood they found.’

‘What blood?’

‘There was trace blood at the scene,’ Carl said. ‘Not enough to notice initially. Not part of the burn pattern. It was recovered from a surface that didn’t get fully destroyed.’

My grip tightened on the phone.

‘They ran it against Brad,’ he said. ‘No match.’

‘And Rebecca?’ I asked.

‘No match there either.’

I leaned against the wall, the concrete cool through my coat.

‘Then whose was it?’ I asked.

Carl exhaled. ‘They don’t know yet. That’s the problem.’

‘That’s not enough for an arrest,’ I said. ‘Maybe that’s their guy.’

‘That’s what I said too,’ Carl commiserated, ‘but the counterargument was that with everything else, it was enough. Someone else was in the house? The chances of her not knowing about it if she was there are low.’

‘Which means, they think she lied about what happened.’

‘Exactly.’

‘What was the DA’s theory?’ I asked.

‘That Rebecca didn’t act alone,’ Carl said. ‘Or that she knows more than she’s saying.’

‘Or,’ I said quietly, ‘that someone else was hurt.’

‘Yes,’ Carl agreed. ‘And that’s why they acted.’

I closed my eyes.

‘Do they have a profile?’ I asked.

‘Partial,’ Carl said. ‘Not enough markers yet. But once it hits CODIS—’

‘They’ll know,’ I finished.

‘Yes.’

I stood there for a moment longer, letting the implications line up.

Brad might not have been alone when he died.

And Rebecca wasn’t the only one who left that house marked. Whatever really happened that night, it wasn’t just arson. It was interrupted.

I made a quick call. A friend of mine who worked in forensics.

‘Meg,’ I said. ‘How are you?’

We got the small talk over with and I cut to the chase.

‘I have a favor to ask,’ I said. ‘An arson case that resulted in the death of a white male, in his thirties.’

She took the details and promised to check it out. ‘If it’s there, I should be able to get it to you by tomorrow morning.’

Even if I couldn’t use it in court, I could use it to figure out just how impossible Rebecca Ryan was going to be to defend.