After Her (30 page)

“What is
this
?” I ask in a hoarse voice that sounds like I'm speaking with a swollen tongue.

“The Lynchs have made national news again,” she says. “Only now,
you’re
the headline.”

The screen staring back is an article on CNN’s main webpage with a headline that reads:

Recent Murder sparks new scandal for Orange County’s most eccentric couple

Below the headline is a familiar picture of Vivian and me from the gala. Her arm wraps around my waist, making us appear friendlier than we actually are. On her face is a phony, platinum smile. On my face is a look of whiplash, caught off guard by the sudden flash of a camera I had no idea was there. That spontaneous photo opt she ambushed me at the gala with is now a CNN exclusive with an article that reads:

High society has conjured a new mystery. The murder of nineteen-year-old college sophomore, Sasha Hawthorne, has reopened old wounds and created new ones. Socialite Vivian Lynch and her amorous husband Adrian are no strangers to scandal, but the implication of a third player has garnered the interest of many. Cassandra Tate (seen pictured above), also a sophomore at Northham University, is considered by many “the third Lynch spouse” after reports of her seen coming and going from the Lynch manor on several occasions. Not much is known about the reclusive young woman, just that she and Vivian reportedly have “a very close relationship” and that she and Adrian—as some have said—are “even closer.” Though the Lynchs are known for their eccentricity, the nature of this odd relationship with the young student leaves a bad taste in the mouths of many and generates suspicions about the young woman’s motives. With Adrian Lynch’s previous murder conviction of a former mistress in mind, is Miss Tate his new target? Was she the intended victim when Miss Hawthorne was killed? Was she an oblivious bystander or a willing accomplice?

After I read the article, Karen looks at me and my body goes numb.

“Well?” she says. “What am I to think after reading something like that?”

I repeatedly shake my head in protest. With no actual words to defend my position, my reaction feels ineffective.

“It’s not true,” I say. “Nothing in that article is true.”

“Really?” she replies indifferently. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What else do you want?”

She shrugs. “The truth would nice.”

“This is a smear campaign!” I ask. “Someone is submitting these phony articles to implement me in something I had nothing to do with! How many more of these articles are on the internet?”

She exhales a small sigh before speaking.

“You really want me to answer that question?” Her voice exposes some suppressed aggravation. I can’t tell if it’s me she most frustrated with or the situation itself. I sit, rocking back and forth in my chair, trying to find the proper words. I trace patterns with my fingers atop the table to busy myself from the pressure weighing like a dumbbell in the pit of my stomach.

“You won’t believe me no matter what I tell you, will you?” I ask.

“You never know until you try,” she replies. “My only interest is in solving this case. I don’t give a damn about your sexual liaisons with Adrian. I’ll leave that topic for the media to scrutinize.”

“I can’t believe this,” I say as the words from that article haunt me. “Are they all talking about me?”

“This is one of a few articles I found on the internet after the gala, “she says. “It looks like Vivian knew many reporters. Unfortunately, for you, most of them were at the party. I’m not trying to ruin your reputation or make you out to be the villain. I assumed that you had already seen these publications. I'm sorry you had to find out about them like this, but maybe it’s a good thing.”

“How is any of this…
good
?” I ask, my hands clenching the table’s edge. “If my parents read those articles—if this ends up on television I won’t be able to look my father in the eye. My mother is going to have a meltdown.”

Karen blinks slowly, somewhat unfazed by my outburst. Amidst this cool exterior is the mask of a meticulous woman, readying her troops and prepping for battle. She looks at me while rubbing her chin and composing a response.

“If you start by telling me the truth, I will work diligently to help clear your name,” she replies after clearing her throat. “You know how the media is. They’re sharks. They smell fresh blood and come running. Right now, you’re the wounded party. You are the scapegoat. They aren’t looking at the Lynchs. They expect this kind of behavior from
them
, but you are fresh meat. The only way to feed them is by standing up for yourself.”

I look at her and feel an unfamiliar sense of liberation. For the first time, I see an exit, an escape away from the Lynchs. I can taste it. It’s so pungent that I’d like to savor the sensation.  

“Alright,” I say. “I know how it looks, but I swear it’s not what you think it is.”

“So tell me what it really is.” Her eyes pierce me. I stand my ground, refusing to blink or turn away from her glare.

“The truth is…that I'm not sleeping with Adrian Lynch, but you’re right. I was with him the night Sasha died. I got a little high. He was a little drunk. We kissed and that’s all. I didn’t want tell you because I know his reputation with women and I didn’t want everyone thinking the worst.”

She gives me an indifferent look and shakes her head. “I don’t buy it. Keeping something
that
minor a secret to prevent humiliation? Come on Cassandra. You’re have to do better than that.”

“I'm telling you the truth!”

“Not all of it,” she replies. “I’m willing to keep this off the record, but you have to cooperate with me.”

“Tell me about the toxicology report,” I say. “You mentioned it over the phone? Sasha’s Dad told me that there were drugs in her system. What kind?”

“Rohypnol.”

“Isn’t that…the rape drug?” I ask. “Does that mean that Sasha was—”

“There were no signs of sexual assault or genital trauma,” she interjects. “That’s what we found the strangest. Someone drugged her and yet she was fully clothed with only a single blow to the head. It makes no sense.”

“I don’t understand. Who the hell drugs a woman for fun?” I ask and just as the words leave my mouth, a single name falls onto my lips. I gape at her, cool in the face, devoid of all body warmth.

“Cassandra?” she asks with an intuitive cock of her left brow. “What’s wrong?”

“Adrian,” I say.

Her eyes narrow. “What about him?”

I open my mouth and I'm quickly reminded of something. I close my mouth.

“Cassandra?”

“There’s something I have to say, but I...legally can’t,” I say.

“Excuse me?”

It’s time I lay it all out, expose the Lynchs for what they are. My abdomen clenches tight, burying the words beneath a wave of unwanted emotions. I glance at the glass wall, wondering if Vivian has eyes and ears everywhere.

“You need to protect me,” I say. “You need to use whatever police manpower you have to protect me from Vivian Lynch.”

“I thought we were talking about her husband.”

“This is more complex than you think,” I say. “If I tell you, you have to keep that woman away from me.”

She glances over at the table then brings her eyes back to me as if she’s deliberating about something that she hasn’t informed me of.

“Tell me what you know and I’ll see what I can do to help,” she says.

I inhale, wishing I could literally swallow the words.

“I’m under contract as Vivian Lynch’s intern,” I blurt.

“Under…contract?”

“She made me sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

“People with nondisclosure agreements usually have something to hide,” she says.

“Yeah, I know.”

“People that sign them, also have something to hide.”

“You’re turning this on me?” I say. “I’m cooperating with you and you’re still condemning me?”

She shrugs. “Tell me more about this ‘agreement’ and I might change my mind.”

“I didn’t exactly sign it willingly. She tried to kill herself when I wouldn’t. What else was I supposed to do?”

Karen sighs and rolls her eyes. While leaning against the back of her chair to stretch her arms over her head, she drops her eyes to meet mine. “Listen, Cassandra. This isn’t all on you.

I didn’t mean to make it seem like you were the sole suspect. In fact, my focus was already on the Lynchs.”

“What?”

“Those people have been generating scandal for the last twenty years, “she says. “Since I was a rookie at the academy, I’ve been following their escapades over the last decade. At the academy, they were celebrities. Everyone knew who they were.”

“If you suspected them, then why put me through hell? Why not go after them as hard as you’ve come down on me?”

“Because they have access to lawyers. I'm not fond of lawyers. They get in the way.”

“So instead you go after me?” I say. “The working-class, college sophomore who can’t afford a lawyer?”

“I went after you as an informant,” she amends. “You aren’t just some unsuspecting young woman, Cassandra. You have managed to do what no one else has ever managed to accomplish. You’re a fixture in the Lynch marriage. They trust you. Vivian clearly adores you. Adrian, from what I can tell, is enamored with you.”

“What’s your point?” I ask.

“Vivian and Adrian Lynch are smart. They know how to lie better than you,” she says. “You can get in where we can’t.”

“You want to me spy on them for you? What do I have to do? Wear a wire?”

“No,” she says. “This can’t be an official assignment. I'm not allowed to involve civilians in ongoing murder cases, but I admit that I'm a little desperate right now. I don’t know what those people are guilty of, but I know they’re hiding something. Vivian gave me some odd vibes. Adrian was very overprotective of you. I suggest you use your connection to them to find out what happened to Sasha.”

“What do you know about Adrian’s murder trial?” I ask. “Anytime I ask him about it, he gets defensive. It’s been ten years and yet he’s still really defensive about a crime he’s already served time for.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, entwining her fingers atop the table. “That’s what initially drew me to them. After interrogating them at the party, I used some personal resources to dig up files on the old case.”

“And?” I say, willing her to say more.

“And, I found nothing,” she says. “It was oddest thing.
Nothing
from that ten-year old case is available.”

“That’s impossible. I-I mean—high-profile murder cases don’t just disappear from public record.”

“Well, this case did,” she says. “Everything I tried to find has inexplicably been redacted. I looked up many archives and dug through public
and
private police files. I couldn’t even find a strand of DNA from that case. I underestimated the Lynchs and the things that they can buy with their money, but I see it now.”

“Yeah well, welcome to the club,” I mutter. “You figured out what I’ve known all along.”

She sighs, accepting defeat in a cloud of sudden futility.

“My boss is on my ass about dropping this whole thing. He urged me to leave it alone. Maybe he’s right. I have no real proof to back up my suspicions. If I do anything without his approval, I could lose my job. I don’t want to ask, Cassandra. Closing the case on Sasha could depend on what you do next.”

“You want me to worm my way back into their lives so I can spy on them?”

“I doubt it’d be much of an effort on your part,” she says with a laugh. “Vivian may be a hard nut to crack, but we both know what it would take for Adrian to open up.”

The insinuation is heavy in her voice, much like that same one I’d seen in her eyes a few minutes earlier. I sense nothing noble about what she’s suggesting, but it’s obvious what she won’t say aloud.

“Are you suggesting that I seduce Adrian into telling me the truth?” I ask.

She doesn’t deny or confirm my theory with anything, verbal or otherwise. I suspect bugs hidden somewhere in the room, somewhere nearby. Listening ears are definitely present. I just don’t know where. She offers me a roundabout look, the kind that says more without saying anything at all. 

“What kind of a cop are you, anyway?” I ask. “This sounds kind of crooked.”

“I'm the kind of cop that wants to solve your best friend’s murder,” she replies with a halfhearted smirk that does nothing to convince me of her sincerity. “We are at an impasse here. No witnesses saw what happened to Sasha. No one heard a damn thing. I find it hard to believe that out of four-hundred people, no one saw anything. If I were the paranoid type, I’d suspect the Lynchs of witness tampering.”

“I knew Vivian didn’t like Sasha, but I didn’t think she’d actually hurt her,” I say. “I didn’t think she’d go this far.”

“I heard that you two were best friends since childhood. Would she do the same for you if
you
were victim instead? Would she do everything in her power to make sure that your murder was solved?”