The Serial Killer's Wife (18 page)

“It was Eddie’s idea I buy the house. He contacted me through Mark Webster. He said he would rather have somebody he knew, a friend, buy and move into this place than a complete stranger who would do God knows what with it.”
 

Elizabeth had to look away from him. She didn’t like the idea at all that Foreman was here because her husband had asked him to be. Just like in her previous life, where Eddie had manipulated her, here now Eddie had manipulated Foreman.
 

Todd said, “So you agreed, just like that?”
 

“Of course not. I had a place of my own, had just paid off the mortgage a few years before. I was happy. But then Sheila and I started seeing each other.”
 

Elizabeth looked up sharply. “You and Sheila dated?”
 

He stared back at her for a very long time before answering. “Yes, we did.”
 

A thousand more questions flooded Elizabeth’s mind—Elizabeth now remembering the way the new Mrs. Rodgers had tightened her jaw at even the mention of Foreman or Sheila—but before she could ask anything else, Todd spoke.
 

“So how much did Eddie sell you the house for?”
 

“A dollar.”
 

“A dollar,” Elizabeth repeated flatly.
 

Foreman nodded. “For the house and for everything in it. He just made me promise that I wouldn’t throw any of it out in case ... well, you know, in case you ever came back.”
 

Elizabeth found herself with her arms crossed again. She didn’t like it down here. She didn’t like being back in this house at all. And now, with what Foreman had just told her, which was what Eddie had told him, that he should keep everything in case she ever returned ...
 

Shivering, Elizabeth said, “Let’s go back upstairs. Being down here is really starting to give me the creeps.”

CHAPTER 35

T
ODD
ASKED
FOREMAN
if he had a computer with a working Internet connection. When Elizabeth gave him a questioning look, he said, “Isn’t it strange that the FBI is already involved? That probably means there’s news of you. I just want to see how bad it is.”
 

Foreman led him to the study at the end of the hall—what had once been Eddie’s study—and then when Elizabeth said she wanted to get some fresh air, Foreman walked with her out to the back deck.
 

But the moment they were outside she remembered the deck they were now standing on, how it had been one of Eddie’s few pet projects when they had first bought the house. How when it came to “man things”—hunting, sports, cars—he had very little interest, and would instead rather read a nonfiction book about one of the World Wars. But the idea of building a deck, one grand enough that it boasted a railing and even had slots where Elizabeth could put flowers, well, that was something he was determined to do. And he did do it, though it took nearly two years, and once it was done he insisted they sit out here late at night with all the lights off in the house and stare up at the sky and watch the stars, hoping to maybe spot one falling.
 

Despite the surprisingly warm temperature, Elizabeth crossed her arms and hugged her elbows.
 

“You need to call that FBI agent,” Foreman said.
 

“I already told you that’s not an option.”
 

“How do you think this is going to turn out? Honestly, when you stop and really think about it, do you see this having a happy ending?”
 

“I have a plan.”
 

“And what’s that?”
 

“Like I told you, I need to get in contact with Mark Webster.”
 

“And what is he going to do?”
 

“Hopefully get me in to see Eddie. When Eddie finds out what’s happened, he’ll tell me where to find his ...” But she shook her head, refusing to say the word.
 

“Do you actually believe that? Do you actually believe that your serial killer husband is going to give a shit about you?”
 

“Not me, no. But his son? I think so, yes.”
 

Foreman shook his head. “You’re wasting your time. Mark Webster won’t help you.”
 

“How do you know?”
 

“You were his key witness. The defense had nobody else to put up there to talk on Eddie’s behalf.”
 

“Even if I had stayed, I would have refused to speak on Eddie’s behalf.”
 

“Listen, the long and the short of it is Mark Webster was pretty ticked when you up and vanished. There he was, a young up and coming lawyer with a national case, and his only witness disappeared. He wasn’t happy. I very highly doubt he will help you now.”
 

Elizabeth’s arms were still across her chest, and she hugged herself even more. In a soft voice she said, “Could you talk to him for me?”
 

“It won’t work.”
 

“Please.”
 

Foreman sighed. “He’s not even in the area anymore. Last I heard, a law firm up in Manhattan hired him.”
 

Elizabeth didn’t like where this conversation was headed. The entire ride here, she had had ideas, thoughts, theories on how this could all turn out. Everything that had seemed so simple just hours ago was now so very complex, and while Foreman was the one telling her the reality of the situation, she knew she had been fooling herself all along.
 

Staring past Foreman at the house next door, she said, “Do the Greers still live there?”
 

Foreman obviously knew what she meant, but he still turned to glance at the house anyway. “No, they moved out two years ago. A young couple lives there now, named Padron.”
 

“What about the Rafalowskis?”
 

“They’re still next door. In fact, they’re probably home right now. We shouldn’t be standing out here in case one of them sees you.”
 

“Think they’d recognize me?”
 

“I can’t imagine they wouldn’t.”
 

“So I haven’t managed to change my appearance at all?”
 

Foreman hesitated a beat. “You look just like the Elizabeth Piccioni I knew.”
 

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. “What happened between you and Sheila?”
 

Something changed in Foreman’s face. It was an almost imperceptible change, the sides of his mouth tensing for just an instant as he clenched his teeth, and then it was gone.
 

“Never mind,” Elizabeth said. “It’s none of my business.”
 

Michael Foreman was a widower. His wife, Janice, had been a beautiful and petite woman who, from every picture Elizabeth had ever seen, looked like she didn’t even know what a frown was. She had died of a sudden aneurism nearly a decade ago. Foreman was devastated. From what Elizabeth had heard he had spent days in his house crying before, one day, he went into work like nothing had happened. Ever since then he had not dated or even gone on any social outing with a person of the opposite sex, as if even the idea of dating (or being with someone who might consider it a date) would be a direct slap in the face of Janice’s memory.
 

But now Foreman looked nervous. No, strike that; he looked
extremely
nervous, like a kid on his first date walking up the porch steps, almost ready to ring the doorbell, preparing in his mind what he would say and do even though he knew that when it eventually happened none of it would go according to plan.
 

He cleared his throat. “A lot changed after you left. Your disappearance, we knew it would be a big deal, but not as big as it became. The police and FBI came to me and Sheila and everyone else who was close to you, asking us if we had any idea where you had gone. They knew someone had helped you and they more or less threatened that if they found out it was us we’d go to jail. And then that Applegate guy came out with his theory on how you were actually in cahoots with Eddie on the murders, and ...”
 

“Did you believe him?”
 

“What? No, of course not. But like I said, the whole thing was a mess. And Sheila and I, the secret we had, it was growing so big inside us, like a balloon ready to pop. We couldn’t just stop thinking about it. So we started meeting for coffee, speculating about where you had gone. Then ...”
 

He was that nervous boy again, standing at the door, having just rung the doorbell, his palms sweating and his knees wobbly.
 

Elizabeth said, “What happened?”
 

He took a breath. “We had an affair. It was brief, lasted only a couple of weeks. Her husband found out. As you can imagine, he was furious. Even so, it looked like he was going to forgive her until he found out she was pregnant.”
 

Elizabeth closed her eyes. Didn’t know what to say. Sheila had been her best friend and she had had no idea, no idea at all about any of this, and it now made more sense why Sheila acted the way she did with her earlier.
 

“Wait,” she said. “Why would Bill not just assume it was his?”
 

“Because after the twins he’d gotten a vasectomy.”
 

“Oh.”
 

Foreman nodded again. “From what Sheila told me, they had a big fight. Bill wanted her to get an abortion. She refused. He said he wanted a divorce. She said that was fine with her, she was in love with me anyway.”
 

“She really said that?”
 

“That’s what she told me.”
 

Elizabeth was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea of Michael Foreman and Sheila Rodgers not just being a couple but being intimate. Sheila at least ten years younger than Foreman, both nice enough people but completely different personalities. Sheila more forward, more direct, and Foreman, well, he was patient, the kind of person to let the cards lay where they may, which was strange because he also happened to be a very successful lawyer.
 

“Sheila gave up custody of the kids. She moved out and came to live with me. We ...” He paused. “You know I haven’t been with anyone since Janice’s death. I had promised myself I never would. Yes, I know some people think that’s foolish, but it was just something I had promised myself and something I intended to keep. But Sheila ... I was in love with her. There was something about her that I just couldn’t get out of my head. So she came to live with me and for several months we were very happy, even when the divorce went through and was finalized. We were together, and she was pregnant, and then ...”
 

A breeze picked up, rustling the few leaves still in trees, the oak in the backyard suddenly reminding Elizabeth about Eddie, how he had said it would someday make a great tree in which to put a tree house for their son, didn’t she agree?
 

“And then?” Elizabeth prompted.
 

“Our baby died four months after being born. He was a boy. We named him Bruce, after my father. He died of SIDS.”
 

Elizabeth’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh my God.”
 

Foreman shrugged, now staring out at the backyard. “Do you remember the Greenwood Cemetery, the one along the highway toward that Walmart? There’s this section near the back, hidden by trees, they call it the Baby Lot. That’s where we buried him.”
 

Elizabeth reached out and touched his arm. “Michael, I am so sorry.”
 

He waved her off. “It’s not your fault.”
 

No, she thought, maybe not, but in a way it was and she thought both Foreman and Sheila knew it.
 

Foreman wiped at his eyes. “Anyway, afterward, Sheila and I, went our separate ways. In fact, we haven’t seen each other in over a year.”
 

“She’s changed a lot.”
 

“Has she? She won’t talk to me anymore.”
 

“Is she still teaching?”
 

“As far as I know she’s still at the middle school.”
 

“What did Sheila think about living in this house?”
 

“She got used to it. It was your brother who thought it was weird.”
 

Hearing mention of her brother made Elizabeth’s body go tense. Besides her mother, Jim was the only family she had, and she had left him behind without even a goodbye.
 

“He came here?”
 

Foreman nodded. “He went through all the containers down in the basement piece by piece. He said he was just curious to see what was left of you.”
 

“When did this happen?”
 

“About a year after you had left. He had just come back from Africa. Well, officially.”
 

“Officially?”
 

“The Peace Corps had allowed him a week off after”—Foreman cleared his throat—“your mom died.”
 

Elizabeth closed her eyes. She said softly, “When did she die?”
 

Foreman didn’t answer.
 

She opened her eyes, turned to him. “When?”
 

“Less than four months after you left.”
 

A tear fell down her face, followed by another, then another. Elizabeth went to wipe them away but stopped. If she owed her mother anything, it was to shed some tears.
 

All this time she knew her mother had died—she had to have, the cancer was just too bad—but she had never learned the exact date. She had forced herself not to look online every day, searching for her mother’s obituary, for fear that her mother’s death would bring her back home. Elizabeth just prayed that when her mother went it would be quickly and without much pain, and that, when she eventually saw her mother again in whatever afterlife there was, her mother would understand and forgive her for abandoning her like she did.