No, this time, I was going to be very careful. I’d stay close to you and, when the time was right, find a way for us to be truly alone.

46 RICHARDS

46

RICHARDS

Sunday, March 20, 2022

10:00 a.m.

As I stood in front of Marisa’s apartment building, I wondered if I’d lost my fucking mind. I’d let her call go to voice mail, telling myself I didn’t want to deal with her or be reminded of a high-profile case that I’d never been able to solve. I’d less than a week to go. I would leave the job, and my life would move on. Time for fishing off Florida’s Gulf Coast. Let the younger guys take a crack at Clare’s case.

But Marisa’s words played over and over in my head, and concentrating on anything else was a shit show. Out of the car, I lit a cigarette. I’d promised myself I’d quit the smoking as soon as I retired, and technically, I still had six days and five remaining packs to finish.

I inhaled, letting the smoke trail up as I stared at Marisa’s window. The lights were on. She was up and about.

Every fucking time I looked at her face, I saw her mirror image lying on the medical examiner’s table. Pale, drawn, slack jawed. I remembered how the pathologist’s blade had slid over Clare’s chest and around her breasts as the doctor made his Y-incision. I’d felt such rage and sadness and to this day still carried some of it.

Both Clare and Marisa looked so much like their mother. Elizabeth Stockton had been found by the family’s housekeeper while the girls were at school and the husband on a business trip. Elizabeth had been lying in a bathroom, naked in a tub filled with cool water. Her body was cold and still. The housekeeper had called the cops, and I’d arrived within an hour of the first responder.

I’d been aware that young children lived in the house, so I’d sent the housekeeper to intercept the girls at school while we tried to track down the father. The housekeeper had taken the girls for ice cream or a trip to the mall. I don’t remember, but she bought us enough time to clear out the body and for the father to finally arrive home that night.

From all accounts, the Stocktons hadn’t had a good marriage. Neighbors reported verbal fights and slamming doors. A few were surprised that Elizabeth had killed herself. She’d sworn she’d keep her marriage together for the sake of the children, whom I believed she was slowly poisoning. And then, just like that, she took a handful of pills and died.