The Sleeping Beauty Killer

54

The following morning, Casey was staring at a copy of that same document. Her grip was so tight at the corners of the page that Laurie could see her knuckles turning white.

They were filming from a set in the studio. Unsurprisingly, the Raleigh family had refused to let Casey enter the country house. Even Cipriani had been reluctant to open its doors to her. Sotheby’s declined, as had Casey’s graduate school. She was a woman without roots.

Today, that worked in Laurie’s favor. Laurie didn’t want Casey to be on her own turf. In fact, Laurie had canceled this morning’s interviews with Angela and Paula, asking Casey to come to the studio alone since her mother and cousin weren’t “fully supportive” of her decision to participate in the show.

Now that questioning was under way, Casey was trying to keep her cool, but the page was beginning to shake in her hands. She dropped it on the table as if it burned.

“It looks like some kind of police report,” she said, finally answering Ryan’s question.

“Have you seen it before? It wasn’t among the many documents you provided to the studio when we agreed to investigate your case.”

“I’m really not sure. I’m not a lawyer, Mr. Nichols.”

“No, but you’ve had fifteen years to work on your own defense. You set out to prove that you were wrongfully convicted, and essentially treated that as your full-time job from a prison cell.”

“I gave you everything I had. Maybe my lawyer didn’t give me all the records. Or I probably narrowed things down over the years so I could focus on the most important parts.”

Laurie wasn’t buying it. Last night, she and Ryan had compared the defense attorney’s records to the files Casey had given them. It was clear that Casey had selectively edited the file to make it look as if Janice Marwood hadn’t fought on her behalf. She had also pulled this sheet of paper from the police’s evidence inventory.

Ryan picked up the page and handed it to Casey again. “Can you please read the second entry on that list?”

“It says ‘outdoor trash can.’ ”

“And then there are several items listed beneath that heading, correct? Please read the sixth item on the list.”

Casey opened her mouth to answer, and then caught herself. She pretended to count each item, as if she had no idea which entry was at issue. “You mean this one? It says ‘plastic garbage bag, contents: shards of broken crystal.’ ”

Exactly what the missing picture frame would have been if shattered to pieces.

Laurie’s first phone call the previous night had been to Hunter’s housekeeper, Elaine Jenson. She asked Elaine whether she remembered picking up any broken glass when she’d cleaned that day at the country house. She did not. On the rare occasions when she broke something while cleaning, she always set aside the pieces in case the homeowner wanted to try to repair or replace the broken item. She was also vigilant about recycling glass. According to Elaine, any trash bag containing broken glass or crystal must have been carried out by either Hunter or Casey.

Her second call had been to Lieutenant McIntosh of the Connecticut State Police. He chuckled when she asked him about the garbage bag. “Figured that one out, did you?”

“You knew?” she asked.

“Not for sure, not until you asked me about that missing photograph. We wondered when we found that bag in the garbage if perhaps something had been thrown during a fight or broken during a struggle. But the prosecution said it was too speculative to argue at trial. Then you come to my office telling me that his favorite crystal picture frame was missing from the house. I’m willing to bet that’s what we found in the garbage. Breaking his favorite memento in some kind of temper tantrum.”

“Why didn’t you mention this when I asked about the missing frame?”

“Because once your show aired, I was going to use that to let the air out of Casey’s tires. Can’t help you too much, after all. Like I said, we got the right person. For what it’s worth, I hinted at it. Said it might’ve been broken. That was a professional courtesy to your dad. And now you’ve figured it out.”

“Do you still have the bag’s contents? Can we prove to a certainty that it was a picture frame?”

“Nah. We keep the big, bad stuff like DNA nowadays, but a bag of garbage we never used as evidence? That’s long gone. We thought it was a vase or something, but we never tried to piece it all together. Didn’t seem to matter at the time.”

It mattered now. Laurie remembered Grace’s reaction when she first heard about the missing photograph: She probably threw it at him when they were fighting, cleaned up the shards, and buried the picture in the woods before calling 911. Ryan had reached the same conclusion: For all we know, the frame got broken during an argument and Casey managed to clean it up before calling the police.

This had to be why Casey had called her two nights ago, trying to convince her not to mention the missing picture frame during the production. Casey was afraid that the police would connect the dots.

Laurie had looked in Casey’s eyes and believed she was innocent. How could she have been so wrong?

Ryan had predicted that Casey would storm out of the studio the second he confronted her with the evidence log, but she didn’t budge from her seat, even when Ryan continued to tear into her. “Isn’t it true that that bag contained the remnants of the picture frame you broke during a violent fight with Hunter? The picture that meant so very much to him? Or did it break when you chased him into the bedroom, firing shots at him?”

“No. It wasn’t the picture frame!”

“In fact, didn’t you even call our producer at her home two nights ago, asking her not to mention that picture frame?”

“That was for a totally different reason. It was strategy. You’re twisting everything around!”

Casey was nearly screaming by the end of her response, pounding a fist against the table for emphasis.

Laurie felt herself flinch, but Ryan remained completely calm. “Then make it simple, Casey. This was your last day with Hunter. You must have replayed it in your head a million times. Just tell us what was broken that day. What were those shards the police found in the trash can behind the house?”

“It was a vase.”

“And how did it get broken?”

“Things break. It happens.”

“Let me be honest, Casey. If you were my client and gave an answer like that, I wouldn’t put you on the stand, because any jury would see that you’re not being honest. You remember more than you’re saying.”

“Fine, I broke it. I saw that picture of him with Gabrielle Lawson in the Chatter column. I got so angry that I threw the paper on the counter, knocking over a vase. I was immediately ashamed. I cleaned it up and took the garbage outside, hoping Hunter wouldn’t notice.”

“Why were you ashamed?”

“Because as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get my jealousy in check. I can’t believe I ever doubted his devotion to me, even for a fleeting moment.”

“That wasn’t the only time you felt jealous, was it? We’ve heard from others that you often spoke up publicly if you thought Hunter was being too cozy with other women.”

“It wasn’t always easy to be with a man who was so beloved. He was a hero. His family was practically royalty. By comparison, I was the tacky little commoner who had wheedled my way into the fold. It didn’t help matters that the one serious girlfriend he had before me was a demure socialite-my exact opposite. When I would see him posing next to those kind of women, it wasn’t just jealousy. It really hurt my feelings. But Hunter saw all of it as an expected part of the social scene.”

“And how did you see it?”

“As a matter of respect.”

Laurie felt Jerry and Grace staring at her, urgently wanting to talk about what was happening in front of them. Until today, Casey had presented her relationship with Hunter as a perfect fairy tale. Now they were seeing a different side of the story.

Laurie shook her head subtly, signaling for them to keep their poker faces.

“Hunter didn’t respect you?” Ryan asked sympathetically. His cocky, smart-alec demeanor was completely in check. His tone was perfect.

“He did, but-he didn’t understand. He was born the most important person in the room. No one ever judged him. He didn’t know what it was like to be me. To have all those women assessing me, wondering how I was so lucky to be chosen by him.”

“It sounds like this is a topic that came up repeatedly. Is it fair to say that you argued about it?”

“Of course. But not in the way my trial depicted. These were arguments like any normal couple would have. He was learning to be less flirtatious. I was getting less jealous as I became more confident in our relationship. And that’s why I was so disappointed in myself for overreacting to that photograph of Gabrielle and him.”

“So why didn’t you tell us this?” Ryan asked. “Why did you remove this page of the police inventory from the documents you gave us? And why did you make it sound like your defense lawyer had done nothing on your behalf?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was guilty.”

The silence that followed spoke volumes. Casey’s eyes desperately searched Ryan’s for a reaction, and then looked past the camera to Laurie. “You still believe me, don’t you?”

Laurie’s face must have answered her question, because Casey immediately broke down in tears. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

The elevator doors had barely closed when they all let out a collective sigh of relief. They couldn’t have asked for much more.

“I knew she did it,” Grace said, holding up a fist in triumph.

“That is going to be the best scene we have ever aired,” Jerry declared. “It’s just too bad she already served her sentence. It felt like police should swarm in and haul her away.”

Ryan waited until Jerry and Grace headed back to their offices to deliver his verdict. He leaned in close and said dryly, “If I were a lesser man, I’d be tempted to say ‘I told you so.’ ”

“Good thing you’re modest,” Laurie said. “And it’s a good thing I’m a confident enough woman to admit a mistake. You were right: Casey’s guilty.”

Once she was alone, Laurie called Alex. Listening to his outgoing message, she realized how much she missed hearing his voice.

“Alex, it’s Laurie. Can we please talk? You can tell Mark Templeton we won’t be bothering him anymore. I’m sorry things got so out of control yesterday.” She tried to find the right words. “Let’s talk. Please call when you have a chance.”

For the rest of the afternoon, she watched her screen, waiting for the phone to ring.