Laurie made a mental note that certain political views might run in Casey’s family.
“He enjoyed it as a hobby,” Casey explained, “the way other men play golf.”
“What was your reaction when the police found a handgun under the sofa where you claimed to have been sleeping?” Laurie asked.
“I was surprised. Hunter generally kept all the guns locked in a safe, except for one that he kept in his nightstand. When I told the police it was Hunter’s newest gun, it never dawned on me that they would think I was the one who used it to kill him.”
According to the trial summaries Laurie had reviewed yesterday, Casey told the police she had never had a chance to fire the new weapon. She thought Hunter might have taken it to the range when he first bought it, but she swore that she had “definitely” never touched it herself. But then police found her fingerprints on the gun, and gunshot residue on her hands.
Paula jumped in again. “When the police asked to test for GSR, they told Casey it was to eliminate her as a suspect. You tell me: Is that fair? They led her to believe they were on her side, but they were after her the whole time.”
“Of course I agreed to the test. I was willing to do anything to help. You have no idea how horrifying it is to know that I was there that night. I was right there while someone chased him from the living room to the bedroom, firing shots. I was on the sofa, asleep, while someone murdered the only man I ever loved. I will always wonder whether he yelled to me for help.” Her voice broke again.
Paula let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know why we have to dredge this all up again. We can’t turn back time. If we could, I’d force you to take that plea bargain. Instead, you went with the jury. And then your incompetent lawyer basically locked you up herself by arguing that you were out of your mind that night. If Casey wanted to be convicted of manslaughter, she could have pled guilty in the first place and gotten a better sentence.”
Casey held up a palm. “Mom, of all people, I’m the one who knows what price I paid for going to trial.”
Laurie ran through the five names of alternative suspects Casey had given her: her ex-boyfriend, Jason Gardner; Gabrielle Lawson, the socialite who’d been pursuing Hunter; Andrew Raleigh, who was jealous of his older brother; Mark Templeton, the foundation’s chief financial officer; and Mary Jane Finder, the personal assistant Hunter may have been investigating. “Is there anyone we’re missing?” she asked.
“That’s everyone I could think of,” Casey confirmed. “Any one of them could have slipped a drug into my drink, then left the gala after we did and driven up to Connecticut, confident that I’d be passed out by the time they arrived.”
“But what if you hadn’t been?” Laurie asked. From what she had heard about Rohypnol, its effects varied widely. The killer could not have known with any certainty that Casey would be completely unconscious.
“I’ve thought about that,” Casey said. “On the one hand, I hate the fact that I wasn’t awake to help Hunter. But I have to assume that whoever shot him would have done the same to me if I’d shown any sign of consciousness.”
Paula looked at her daughter imploringly. She begged her. “You’re jumping into this much too fast. Naming names on a television show? Have you thought about how these people will respond? They’ll try to destroy you. Any hope you have of turning over a new leaf will be over.”
“Mom, I’m already destroyed, and I don’t need a new leaf. I don’t want to start over as some other person. I want my life back. I want to walk through a mall without you looking around at every other customer, wondering if they recognize me.”
Without explanation, Casey suddenly rose from the sofa, disappeared momentarily down the hallway, and returned with a photograph. “I’ve spent two days poring over every piece of my file in a new light. I can’t believe I never saw it before, but I think being out of that cell, in a new place, opened my eyes. I’ve had fifteen years to figure out a way to prove someone else came into the house that night, and I think I finally have it.”
14
Four hours later, Laurie checked her watch once again from the backseat of the SUV. Usually, she loved the fact that Fisher Blake Studios was located in Rockefeller Center with a view of the iconic skating rink. But today, midtown traffic was at an absolute standstill. Livid at the thought of keeping Brett waiting, she finally hopped out three blocks from the building and practically jogged to it. It was three fifty-five when she stepped from the elevator on the sixteenth floor. She was out of breath, but she was here.
She spotted Jerry and Grace lurking outside her office door. Grace, as usual, had a full face of expertly applied makeup. She wore a V-neck purple sweater dress that hugged her curves but was long enough to skim the top of her thigh-high black boots. For Grace, the outfit was practically demure. Tall, thin Jerry towered over her, looking dapper in what Laurie knew he liked to call his “skinny suit.”
They both perked up at the sight of her.
“What are you two conspiring about?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Jerry said wryly.
“The only conspiracy I know about was the traffic that tried to keep me from my four o’clock with Brett.”
“Not only with Brett,” Grace said teasingly.
“Will you please just tell me what’s going on?” Laurie demanded.
Jerry spoke first. “We saw Brett’s secretary meet Ryan Nichols at reception fifteen minutes ago. He’s our new host, isn’t he? His résumé is perfect.”
Grace pretended to fan herself. “Not just his résumé. I mean, we’ll all miss Alex, but that man is fine.”
Great. Laurie hadn’t even met Ryan Nichols, but he already had the support of not only Brett, but now Grace and Jerry. And he had arrived fifteen minutes before their meeting was scheduled to begin.
She entered Brett’s office and found him seated next to Ryan Nichols on the sofa. She noticed a bottle of champagne on the coffee table and three glasses. Brett never asked her to sit on the couch for meetings, and the only time he’d offered her champagne was after their first special had dominated its time slot in the ratings. She resisted the urge to apologize for interrupting their “bromance.”
Ryan stood to greet her. Grace hadn’t been exaggerating about his good looks. He had sandy blond hair and wide green eyes. His smile revealed perfect teeth. His handshake was so firm that it was almost painful. “It’s great to finally meet you, Laurie. I’m so excited to be joining the team. Brett was just telling me that you’re in the process of choosing our next case. I’m so grateful to be jumping in on the ground floor.”
The team? Jumping in? More like jumping the gun, she thought.
She tried to sound equally enthusiastic, but knew she was never a good liar. “Yes, Brett and I have a lot of decisions to make about the show’s direction, both the next case and the new host. But I’m so appreciative that you’re interested. With your background, your time must be in very high demand.”
Ryan looked to Brett with a confused expression.
“Laurie, I’m sorry if I wasn’t clearer when we spoke earlier. Ryan is your new host, so you can cross that off your to-do list.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“You know,” Ryan said, “I need to find the men’s room. Do you think Dana would mind pointing the way? I’ll learn my way around in no time.”
Brett nodded, and Ryan shut the door on his way out.
“Are you trying to sabotage this?” Brett sneered. “That was embarrassing.”
“I didn’t mean to create a situation, Brett, but I had no idea that you’d already made this decision without any input from me. I thought Under Suspicion was my show.”