Our Wicked Lies Gledé Kabongo (summer reading list .txt) 📖

She and Kat had exchanged vicious parting shots. What was the saying? Be nice to those closest to you because you never know when you’ll see them for the last time. Alicia never thought that catchphrase would ever apply to her, but if she’d learned anything lately, it was the unpredictability of life. One minute she was a happily married woman; the next, she’d found out it was all an illusion, a mirage. The two people closest to her were puppeteers and she their unsuspecting puppet.

“Mrs. Gray, did Mrs. Deluca confide in you about any personal problems? For example, was she depressed, scared or nervous?” McBride’s question jolted Alicia from her miserable musings.

“Please call me Alicia. You think Kat committed suicide?”

Alicia hated to admit it, but that seemed unlikely. Kat loved living too much. Plus, drawing from Kat’s attitude at their last meeting, the woman had thought she was winning, that Eliot was hers. Why would she suddenly throw all that away?

“Just a routine question. As we said, we don’t yet have a cause of death, so we can’t rule out anything.”

“She was having issues with her son, Maxim, as Eliot mentioned. She worked a lot, and he resented the time she spent away from home. He made no secret of it, but Kat was handling it. And no, I’ve never known her to suffer from depression, nor was she suicidal.”

“People are good at hiding the truth, especially from close friends and family.”

You’re telling me.

“My wife already answered your question to the best of her ability,” Eliot cut in. “She was not Katalina’s shrink!”

Alicia ignored Eliot’s outburst as she recalled her conversation with Richard. Would Richard share the details with the police but omit that he’d thought about killing both Kat and Eliot? Alicia hadn’t told Eliot about that when they’d been planning their strategy earlier, which in hindsight, was a mistake. Despite the fact that she loathed him for what he’d done to her, she didn’t want him blindsided. As much as it pained her to say it, she might need him.

“You’re right, Mr. Gray,” McBride said calmly. “But women talk. We were just wondering whether Mrs. DeLuca confided in your wife about her state of mind.”

Alicia had as much as she could take, and her eyes brimmed with tears.

The detectives picked up on her distress and assured her that the interview was winding down for now, but that they had a few follow-up questions.

Eliot held her hand. She stiffened. It took a colossal effort not to brush off his touch, especially in front of people trained to observe body language. The feel of his fingers on hers was like holding on to toxic waste.

“Before we go, Alicia, can you answer one last question?” McBride asked. “Where were you at the time of Mrs. DeLuca’s death?”

“I was here at home. A friend texted me saying something was going on at Kat’s house.” She explained the text exchange between her and Rina, emphasizing that it was because of Rina that she ended up at the DeLucases. Alicia made a mental note to warn Rina, especially since Alicia had asked her to hack Faith’s email. Detectives had a way of extracting information from people, and the last thing Alicia needed was her friend getting into trouble for doing her a solid. Illegal as it was.

“What time did you receive the text?”

Alicia dug her phone from her pocket, glad for the opportunity to let go of Eliot’s hand. She scrolled through her text messages until she found the right one. “Rina texted me around ten twenty, Tuesday morning.”

They asked for Rina’s full name and address and said they’d be in touch with further questions.

After the detectives left, she got up from the sofa and walked toward the fireplace. The framed photo of her mother, Margaux, sat on the mantle. Alicia stared into her mother’s eyes. She needed her mother’s strength to see her through this crisis. What would Margaux Thomas do?

Alicia picked up the frame and turned around to face Eliot. “There’s something else.”

“Okay. What’s on your mind?”

“Richard knows.”

“What?”

She slid her thumb back and forth over the photo for an extra dose of courage.

“Richard found out you were having an affair with his wife. He’s known for a while. Had her followed. He found out about the secret apartment.”

Boom! With that damning revelation, his entire body went limp as though his bones were made of Jell-o.

The grandfather clock on the wall, one of the few possessions of her mother’s Alicia had left, ticked loudly. The aroma of sweet orange oil drifted from two stone diffusers she’d strategically placed around the room. She welcomed the warm, energizing mist. She’d read somewhere that sweet-orange aromatherapy reduced anxiety.

When he still hadn’t said a word, she pushed. “Humiliating, isn’t it? Richard sat in this very house not too long ago—he knew then that you were sleeping with his wife. I was the odd one out that night. All three of you were in on your dirty little secret.”

“I never meant for it to come to this.”

“That’s all you have to say in your defense?” She took one step closer. He was still seated. Standing gave her a psychological advantage. “What did you think would happen, Eliot? That no one would ever find out? Or maybe one day you would just tell me that it’s over, abandon me and the girls for Kat? That’s what she wanted. She was crystal clear in her emails to me. What did you promise her?”

“Nothing. I made no promises.”

“She went through an awful lot of trouble to convince me otherwise. Why would she work so hard to create the impression that we were over?”

“I don’t know.”

Alicia promised herself she wouldn’t ask this next question, but she had to know, needed to know. “Did you love her?”

“It was complicated.”

“It’s not. A simple yes or no will do.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Meaning what?”

“No one can ever replace you in my heart. In my life.”

She folded her arms and glared at him.