The Couple Next Door

“Yes, you have done very well,” Rasbach agrees. “Impressive. It can’t have been easy. Is it expensive? To start a company like that?”

“It depends. I started out very small, just me and a couple of clients. I was the only designer in the beginning—I worked from home and put in very long hours. My plan was to build the business gradually.”

“Go on,” Rasbach says.

“The company became very successful, very quickly. It grew fast. I needed to hire more designers to keep up with demand, and to take the business to the next level. So I expanded. The time was right. There were bigger costs then. Equipment, staff, office space. You need money to grow.”

“And where did that money come from, to expand your business?” the detective asks.

Marco looks at him, annoyed. “I don’t see why it matters to you, but I got a loan from my in-laws, Anne’s parents.”

“I see.”

“What do you see?” Marco says irritably. He has to remain calm. He can’t afford to get ruffled. Rasbach is probably doing this just to piss him off.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” the detective says mildly. “How much money did you get from your wife’s parents?”

“Are you asking me, or do you know already?” Marco says.

“I don’t know. I’m asking.”

“Five hundred thousand,” Marco says.

“That’s a lot of money.”

“Yes, it is,” Marco agrees. Rasbach is baiting him. He can’t rise to it.

“And has the business been profitable?”

“For the most part. We have good years and not-so-good years, like anybody else.”

“What about this year? Would you say it’s been a good year or a not-so-good year?”

“It’s been a rather shitty year, since you ask,” Marco says.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rasbach says. And waits.

“We’ve had some setbacks,” Marco says finally. “But I’m confident things will get on track. Business is always up and down. You can’t just throw in the towel when you have a bad year. You have to tough it out.”

Rasbach nods thoughtfully. “How would you describe your relationship with your wife’s parents?”

Marco knows that the detective has seen him and his father-in-law in the same room. There is no point in lying.

“We don’t like each other.”

“And yet they still loaned you five hundred thousand dollars?” The detective’s eyebrows have gone up.

“Her mother and father together loaned it to us. They have the money. They love their daughter. They want her to have a good life. My business plan was sound. It was a solid business investment for them. And an investment in their daughter’s future. It’s been a satisfactory arrangement for all concerned.”

“But isn’t it the case that your business desperately needs a cash infusion?” Rasbach asks.

“Every business these days could use a cash infusion,” Marco says, almost bitterly.

“Are you on the verge of losing the company you’ve worked so hard to build?” Rasbach says, leaning forward slightly.

“I don’t think so, no,” Marco says. He is not going to let himself be intimidated.

“You don’t think so?”

“No.”

Marco wonders where the detective has gotten his information. His business is in trouble. But as far as he knows, they didn’t have a warrant to go through his business or bank records. Is Rasbach guessing? Who has he spoken to?

“Does your wife know about your business troubles?”

“Not entirely.” Marco squirms in his seat.

“What do you mean?” the detective asks.

“She knows that business hasn’t been great lately,” Marco admits. “I haven’t burdened her with the details.”

“Why’s that?”

“We have a new baby, for Christ’s sake!” Marco snaps, raising his voice. “She’s been depressed, as you know. Why would I tell her the business is in trouble?” He runs his hand through his hair, which falls back haphazardly into his eyes.

“I understand,” Rasbach says. “Have you approached your in-laws for help?”

Marco sidesteps the question. “I think things will turn around.”

Rasbach lets it go. “Let’s talk about your wife for a moment,” he says. “You say that she’s been depressed. You told me earlier that she was diagnosed with postpartum depression by her doctor. Her psychiatrist. A doctor . . .” He consults his notes. “Lumsden.” He lifts his eyes. “Who is currently away.”

“Yes, you know that,” Marco says. “How many times do we have to go over this?”

“Can you describe her symptoms for me?”

Marco moves restlessly in the uncomfortable metal chair. He feels like a worm pinned to a board. “As I’ve told you before, she was sad, crying a lot, listless. She seemed overwhelmed at times. She wasn’t getting enough sleep. Cora’s a pretty fussy baby.” When he says this, he remembers that she is gone and has to pause a moment to regain his self-control. “I suggested she get someone to help her with the baby, so that she could take a nap during the day, but she wouldn’t. I think she felt she should be able to manage on her own, without help.”

“Your wife has a history of mental illness?”

Marco looks up, startled. “What? No. She has a bit of a history of depression, like a million other people.” His voice is firm. “Mental illness, no.” Marco doesn’t like what the detective is suggesting. He braces himself for what’s coming next.

“Postpartum depression is considered a mental illness, but let’s not quibble.” Rasbach leans back in his chair and looks at Marco as if to say, Can we speak frankly? “Did you ever worry that Anne might harm the baby? Or harm herself?”

“No, never.”

“Even though you looked up postpartum psychosis on the Internet?”

So they have been through his computer. They’ve seen what he’s looked at, the stories about women murdering their children. Marco can feel the sweat break out in tiny beads on his forehead. He moves around in his chair. “No. I told you about that. . . . When Anne was diagnosed, I wanted to know more about it, so I did some searches on postpartum depression. You know what it’s like on the Internet, one thing leads to another. You follow the links. I was just curious. I didn’t read those stories about women who went crazy and killed their kids because I was worried about Anne. No way.”

Rasbach stares at him without saying anything.

“Look, if I was worried that Anne might harm our baby, I wouldn’t have left her home alone with the baby all day, would I?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

The gloves have come off. Rasbach looks at him, waiting.

Marco glares back. “Are you going to charge us with something?” Marco asks.

“No, not at this time,” the detective says. “You’re free to go.”

Marco stands up slowly, pushing his chair back. He wants to run the hell out of there, but he’s going to take his time, he’s going to look like he’s in control, even if it isn’t true.

“Just one more thing,” Rasbach says. “Do you know anyone with an electric car, or possibly a hybrid?”

Marco hesitates. “I don’t think so,” he says.

“That’s all,” the detective says, rising from his chair. “Thanks for coming in.”

Marco wants to get right in Rasbach’s face and snarl, Why don’t you do your goddamned job and find our baby? But instead he strides, too quickly, out of the room. Once outside the door, he realizes he doesn’t know where Anne is. He cannot leave without her. Rasbach comes up behind him.

“If you’d like to wait for your wife, we shouldn’t be too long,” he says, and goes down the corridor and opens a door into another room, where, Marco presumes, his wife sits waiting.

THIRTEEN

Anne sits in the cool interview room and shivers. She is wearing jeans and only a thin T-shirt. The room is over-air-conditioned. The woman officer stands by the door, discreetly watching her. They told Anne that she’s here voluntarily, that she’s free to go at any time, but it feels like she’s a prisoner.

Anne wonders what is going on in the other room, where they’re interviewing Marco. It is a stratagem, to separate them. It makes her nervous and unsure of herself. The police obviously suspect them. They are going to try to set Anne and Marco against each other.