mean to kill her. He couldn’t have.
But the police believe in polygraphs. They will believe that her husband is guilty, if they ever find out about the test. The lawyer had turned to her, outside of his office, and assured her in a low voice that the police will never learn that he failed the test. The information is privileged.
Maybe she wants them to know.
It was a strange, surreal moment.
She’s the only one, besides Patrick and his lawyer – and the examiner – who knows. It’s such a heavy burden to bear. But she knows she can’t tell anyone. She must keep it to herself.
And now, she must decide what to do.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
PATRICK STANDS UP straight and walks towards the building that houses the Sheriff’s Office. He arranges his face into an expression of resolution. He is an innocent man, unfairly treated, doing as his attorney is advising him to do.
‘Ready?’ Lange says, beside him.
As they walk up the steps, Patrick thinks back to the last time he went up these same steps, the morning that Lindsey died. It was winter then. He can’t believe he’s back here. He feels sick to his stomach. He was sick that day. He threw up in the snow.
They are expecting him. He is taken into an interrogation room, Lange close beside him. The sheriff and a uniformed police officer are there. This is all just a formality. It’s what comes after that is terrifying him. The nights spent in jail. The trial. He’s projecting into the future, barely able to pay attention to what’s happening in the here and now. He hears his attorney explain that, on his advice, he will not be taking a polygraph, as they are unreliable and inadmissible in any event. Patrick sits up straighter then and meets the sheriff’s eyes firmly, unwilling to look guilty. He sees the sheriff’s knowing smirk and realizes then that the sheriff assumes from this that he’s already taken one and failed. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Suddenly his situation seems much worse. The sheriff sitting across from him already thinks he’s guilty.
‘We’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right with you,’ the sheriff says.
‘He’ll make a statement, but that’s it. Patrick?’ The attorney sits back and waits for him to say his piece. They’d discussed this – what he was to say – in the car on the way up.
Patrick clears his throat and speaks in a firm voice, with conviction. ‘I did not intend to kill my wife. It was an accident. I didn’t know that the exhaust pipe was plugged, or that she was in any danger.’
‘Anything else you’d like to add?’ the sheriff asks after a moment.
Patrick shoots a nervous glance at Lange.
‘No, I think that’s it,’ the attorney says smoothly.
The sheriff stands up and says, ‘Patrick Kilgour, you are under arrest for the murder of Lindsey Kilgour on January 10, 2009 …’ Patrick’s mind goes blank and he doesn’t hear the rest. Then someone is nudging him. ‘Please stand up.’
Patrick stumbles to his feet, blood rushing from his head.
‘Hands behind your back, please,’ the uniformed police officer says quietly.
Patrick puts his hands behind his back, feels the cuffs go on. And just like that, he’s arrested for murder. He’s going to jail.
Stephanie appreciates the anonymity of the plane ride home without her notorious husband by her side. He’s handsome, recognizable; on her own, she’s able to pass as a tired, ordinary woman. No one bothers her or looks at her twice, not the way they had when they’d travelled back from the inquest. Patrick had attracted a few curious looks, and because of that, she had too. She knew what people were thinking when they looked at her: Who could possibly marry someone who had murdered his first wife?
They’d read the newspapers, seen the coverage on TV and assumed he was guilty. And now she knows something they don’t. She knows he failed the polygraph. Now she wants to scream, I didn’t know about any of it. I didn’t know!
She wants to weep against the window of the aeroplane, but she doesn’t allow herself. She will weep tonight, at home, alone, after the twins are asleep. She will let it all out in a way she had never felt able to do when Patrick was in the house. Perhaps it will be cathartic, and then maybe she will finally be able to sleep. And to think clearly about her situation.
She’s