Page 5 of If She Stayed
Kate had aged since Diana last saw her, the day Allen testified at Diana's trial.Her dark hair showed threads of silver now, and there were lines around her eyes that spoke of the years that had passed.But she still moved with the same confident precision that Diana remembered, still carried herself like someone accustomed to being in control of her environment.
Diana had followed news reports about Kate's return to FBI work, her high-profile cases, her surprising pregnancy, and subsequent retirement.The media had dubbed Kate the "Miracle Mom" when Michael was born, playing up the human-interest angle of a woman giving birth in her late fifties.Diana had watched those interviews from her prison cell, memorizing every detail about Kate's new life.
She'd also researched Allen extensively.After his testimony sent her to prison, he'd continued working at the insurance company for another three years before transitioning to teaching.He'd bought the house on Maple Street four years ago, during the period when Kate was apparently retired from FBI work.Public records showed that he'd added Kate to the deed eighteen months ago, around the time Michael was born.
Suddenly, as she was cleaning, she saw a slight break in the monotony over on Kate’s back porch.Even from this distance, Diana could tell it was a phone call.She watched Kate reach to her right for her phone, sitting on the edge of the lawn chair she was occupying.Kate's posture changed as she answered, becoming more alert, more focused.She stood up from her chair and walked to the edge of the deck, looking out at Michael while she spoke.
Diana paused in her dusting, watching the conversation unfold.Kate was clearly receiving information that interested her professionally.Her free hand gestured as she spoke.After about five minutes, Kate ended the call and stood at the deck railing for another moment, apparently thinking through whatever she'd just learned.
Then Kate walked down into the yard, scooped up Michael from his position beside the toy truck, and headed toward the house.Even from this distance, Diana could see the shift in Kate's demeanor.Whatever the phone call had been about, it had activated something in Kate that had been dormant during her domestic afternoon.
Diana returned to her cleaning, but part of her attention remained focused on the house next door.She'd spent enough time studying Kate's patterns to recognize when something had disrupted the normal routine.The phone call had clearly been work-related, which meant Kate might be leaving the house soon for some kind of investigation.
This was exactly the kind of intelligence Diana had been gathering for weeks.She needed to understand Kate's schedule, her commitments, her vulnerabilities.The revenge she'd planned on Allen required perfect timing and complete knowledge of their lives.Diana had learned patience during her years in prison, but she'd also learned that successful plans required meticulous preparation.
She moved to the Hendersons’ guest bedroom, which offered a different angle on Kate's property.From here, she could see the driveway and front entrance, useful for monitoring comings and goings.Diana had already documented the times Allen typically left for work, Kate's occasional trips to the grocery store, and the occasional jogs each of them took.
The house cleaning job was a perfect cover for her surveillance.The Hendersons traveled at least twice a month, leaving Diana alone in the house for hours at a time.She could observe without being observed, take notes without attracting attention.To the neighborhood, she was simply another service worker, invisible and unmemorable.
Diana had crafted "Diane Walsh" carefully.She'd gained fifteen pounds since her release, changed her hair color from auburn to brown, and adopted a slightly different style of dress.She wore glasses now, clear lenses that altered the shape of her face just enough to avoid recognition.Her voice was softer, her mannerisms more deferential.She'd become the kind of woman people forgot five minutes after meeting her.
But underneath the careful disguise, Diana's anger burned with the same intensity it had maintained throughout her imprisonment.Allen Goldman had destroyed her life with his testimony and had built a new, beautiful life with Kate Wise in the aftermath.They had their perfect family, their comfortable house, their bright future together.Diana had spent nearly ten years in a cell, watching her marriage dissolve, losing contact with her children, becoming a stranger to the life she'd once lived.
Now it was time to balance the scales.
Diana finished cleaning the guest bedroom and gathered her supplies.She would return on Friday for the Hendersons' regular weekly cleaning, which would give her another opportunity to observe Kate's family.By then, she might have more information about whatever work situation Kate had been discussing on the phone.
As she loaded her cleaning caddy into the back of her aging Honda Civic, Diana glanced once more at Kate's house.The afternoon sun was casting long shadows across their yard, and she could see movement through the kitchen window where Kate was presumably explaining her departure to Allen.
He’ll be there, all alone, she thought.You could just kill him now and be done with it.
It was tempting, yes.But it would be too quick.
Soon, Diana thought.Very soon… Allen and Kate would understand what it felt like to have everything they cared about taken away.And if all went to plan, Allen would have no idea who was responsible until the very last moment.
CHAPTER FOUR
Harold Carlisle looked like a man who hadn’t slept in days.When Kate and DeMarco found him in the cardiac observation unit at Richmond General Hospital, he was sitting upright in the narrow bed, staring at his hands with the kind of hollow expression that Kate had seen too often in her career.The monitor beside his bed showed a steady but elevated heart rate, and his gray hair stuck up at odd angles as if he'd been running his fingers through it repeatedly.He looked confused and out of sorts, as if he had just woken up on a strange, new planet and was trying to make sense of everything.
"Mr.Carlisle?"Kate said softly, approaching the bed."I'm Agent Wise with the FBI, and this is Agent DeMarco.We're investigating your wife's death.Are you feeling well enough to answer a few questions?"
Harold looked up at them with red-rimmed eyes that seemed to have trouble focusing.He was probably in his mid-sixties, with the kind of lean build that suggested he'd been active before grief and shock had hollowed him out.His hospital gown hung loosely on his frame, and Kate noticed his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the water cup on his bedside table.
"I keep thinking I'm going to wake up," Harold said, his voice barely above a whisper."That this is all some kind of nightmare.Margaret was supposed to outlive me.I was… I was supposed to go first.”
DeMarco pulled two chairs closer to the bed while Kate studied Harold's face.The man was clearly in shock, but there was something else there, too.A deeper kind of despair that went beyond the immediate trauma of finding his wife's body.
"We're very sorry for your loss," Kate said, settling into her chair.She waited a beat or two and then said, in the most caring voice she could muster: "Can you tell us about yesterday evening?What time did you get home from work?"
Harold's hands shook as he set down the water cup."I work the late shift at the grocery store twice a week.I usually clock out around ten thirty or eleven, just depending on what’s going on at the store.This time, I think it was right at eleven when I left.I got to the house around eleven- fifteen, I think."
"And that's when you found Margaret?"DeMarco asked gently.
Harold nodded, then seemed to fold in on himself."The front door was unlocked, which was strange.Margaret always locked up after dark.I called her name when I came in, but she didn't answer.I thought maybe she'd fallen asleep reading in the library."His voice broke slightly."She spent most of her evenings in there with her books."
Kate watched Harold struggle to continue.The man was clearly fighting to maintain some semblance of composure, but the effort was costing him.She'd interviewed countless grieving family members over the years, and Harold's devastation appeared genuine.More than that, there was an additional layer of anguish that suggested Margaret's death had compounded some existing pain.
"I saw her in her chair, and at first I thought she really had just fallen asleep," Harold went on."The way she was sitting looked so peaceful."Harold's voice became even quieter, and she could see his eyes focusing on something far away—perhaps the memory itself."But then I got closer and I could see the blood.On her head, on the chair.And that candlestick on the floor.I tried to check for a pulse, but I already knew."He stopped talking and covered his face with his hands.
