Chapter 7 “We were both there”
1515 Words
David didn’t go to the funeral.
He told himself it was because the police wouldn’t clear him to leave town. They still had questions about the shooting, about the folder full of photos and emails, about why his father had been killed twelve hours after telling David about Marcus Blackwell.
But the truth was uglier.
He couldn’t stand in that church and watch Ann cry over a man she’d helped get killed. Because David was sure of it now. His father hadn’t died because of a random intruder. He’d died because he’d told David the truth, with Ann standing three feet away. And Ann had lied to the police about what she saw.
So he skipped the funeral and started digging.
---
He started with Marcus Blackwell.
Judge Marcus Blackwell had an office at the courthouse, a house in the hills, and a reputation for being untouchable. Fourteen years on the bench. No scandals. No missteps.
Until Lena.
David spent two days watching the courthouse. He parked across the street with cold coffee in the cup holder and a camera in his lap. He photographed Marcus arriving, leaving, laughing with clerks, shaking hands with attorneys.
He looked clean. He looked normal.
But David had seen the photos in his father’s folder. Marcus’s hand on Lena’s arm. Not gently. Possessively.
On the third day, Marcus left the courthouse at 4 p.m. and didn’t go home. He drove to a private club downtown. The kind of place with no sign on the door.
David followed him in.
The club was dark, leather and low light. Marcus took a booth in the back. Alone. He ordered whiskey and sat there for twenty minutes, staring at his phone.
Then he got a text. His face changed. Just a flicker, but David caught it. Fear.
Marcus left cash on the table and walked out fast.
David followed him.
Marcus drove across town to a part of the city David hadn’t been to since law school. Old buildings, cracked sidewalks, a streetlight buzzing on the corner. He parked in front of a brownstone that looked abandoned.
He didn’t knock. He used a key.
David waited ten minutes, then crossed the street.
The door was unlocked.
Inside, the air smelled like dust and old paper. The brownstone was empty except for a table, two chairs, and boxes stacked in the corner. On the table, a laptop, open.
David didn’t touch it.
On the wall, pinned with pushpins, were photos.
Lena.
Dozens of them. Lena leaving the house. Lena at the grocery store. Lena walking to St. Raphael’s. Lena crying in her car.
And mixed in, documents. Printed emails. Bank statements. A copy of Lena’s medical record from June.
At the bottom of the stack, a handwritten note.
You’ll do what I say, or I’ll tell him everything. And David will hate you more than you can imagine.
The handwriting wasn’t Marcus’s. It was sharper, more controlled.
David knew that handwriting.
Ann’s.
---
He went home and pulled out the divorce papers again.
Lena’s signature. Clean, precise.
He flipped to the date. June 14.
The same day as the first photo on Marcus’s wall. Lena leaving the hotel.
David called Ann.
She answered on the third ring. Her voice was careful. “David? Where are you? The police—”
“Did you introduce Lena to Marcus Blackwell?”
The line went quiet.
“Ann,” David said, and his voice dropped. “Did you introduce them?”
Another pause. Then, barely audible: “Yes.”
David closed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because I thought it would help,” Ann said, and now she was crying. “Because Lena was drowning, David. After the miscarriage, after you left for Chicago, she couldn’t get out of bed. She wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t talk to me. Marcus said he knew a doctor, a therapist—”
“So you introduced her to a married judge.”
“I introduced her to a friend,” Ann snapped. “I didn’t know he’d—”
“He got her pregnant,” David said.
“I didn’t know that would happen!” Ann’s voice broke. “I swear to you, David, I didn’t know. I thought they were just talking.”
“But you knew in June,” David said. “You knew she was pregnant, and you knew it wasn’t mine, and you still didn’t tell me.”
“Because Lena begged me not to,” Ann said. “She said if you found out, you’d leave her. And then Marcus started calling. He started threatening her. He said if she told you, he’d ruin us. He’d tell everyone the Williams firm was corrupt. He’d take everything.”
“And Dad found out,” David said.
“Yes,” Ann whispered. “And he tried to stop it. He tried to pay Marcus off. But Marcus wanted more. He wanted Lena to terminate the pregnancy. He said if she didn’t, he’d go to the press.”
“So Dad told me,” David said. “And then Dad died.”
Ann didn’t answer.
David heard it in the silence. Guilt. Not grief. Guilt.
“Were you lying to the police too?” he asked. His voice was low now. “When you told them you didn’t see the shooter’s face?”
Ann set something down on her end. A teacup, maybe. It clattered. “We were both in that study, David. You saw what I saw.”
“Exactly,” David said. “We were both there. Three feet from Dad when he went down. So don’t tell me you didn’t see anything.”
For a second, her mask cracked. Panic flickered in her voice. Then it was gone. “It happened fast. The window was open, he came from the garden, and then there was a gun—”
“I saw the cufflink,” David cut in. “On the shooter’s wrist. The letter M. Right before he ran.”
Ann went quiet.
“You saw it too,” David pressed. “You just didn’t tell the police. Because it was Marcus, wasn’t it? Or because you didn’t want them looking at him.”
“That’s insane,” Ann whispered. “Marcus wouldn’t—”
“He would,” David said. “Because you set this up. You introduced Lena to him. You told him when she was alone, when Dad was out, when I was in court. You kept him close.”
“I was trying to help her!” Ann’s voice cracked. “After the miscarriage, she wouldn’t get out of bed. Marcus said he knew a doctor—”
“He got her pregnant,” David said. “And then he started threatening her. And when Dad tried to stop it, Dad ended up with a bullet in his chest while you and I stood right there.”
Ann shook her head, even though he couldn’t see it. Tears started in her voice. “David, I didn’t pull the trigger—”
“I know,” David said. “But you know who did. And you’re protecting him.”
She didn’t answer. Just breathed, fast and uneven.
David turned to leave. At the door, he stopped. “If you tell Marcus I was at the brownstone, I’ll burn all of you down. Including you.”
He hung up.
---
David didn’t go back to the house.
He drove back to the brownstone. The door was still unlocked. The photos were still on the wall.
But now there was something else.
A new photo, pinned up in the center.
Lena, standing outside the Williams house, holding a suitcase.
Taken this morning.
On the back, in Ann’s handwriting: She’s running again. Don’t let her.
David took the photo off the wall.
He understood now.
Ann hadn’t just introduced Lena to Marcus. She’d kept him close. She’d fed him information. She’d helped him blackmail Lena. And when Richard tried to stop it, Ann had let him die.
Because if Richard told David the truth, Ann would lose everything. Her reputation. Her control. Her son.
David folded the photo and put it in his pocket.
Then he called the only number he had for Lena.
It rang once. Twice. Then picked up.
“David?” Lena’s voice was small, scared. “How did you—”
“I know Ann introduced you to Marcus,” David said. “I know she helped him blackmail you. I know my father died because of it.”
Lena didn’t answer. He could hear her breathing, fast and uneven.
“Lena,” David said, and his voice cracked. “Where are you?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
The line went dead.
David stared at the phone.
Then he got in his car and started driving.
Because if Ann was tracking Lena, and Marcus was tracking Lena, then David was going to find her first.
And when he did, she was going to tell him everything.
Even if it destroyed them both.
- Writer
