The Serial Killer's Wife (37 page)

“Two agents went to speak with your husband first thing this morning. They told him what happened and how you and your son are safe and he confessed everything.” Julia paused. “He did all this for you and your son, you realize. He loves you both that much.”
 

Before Elizabeth could respond, there was a knock at the door and one of the FBI agents stuck his head in and gave Julia a look. Julia signaled to him that she would be right out, and his head disappeared and the door closed.
 

“How much trouble are you in?” Elizabeth asked.
 

“A lot.”
 

“Will you be fired?”
 

Julia Hogan ignored the question. She said, “The reason I came in here to begin with was to tell you that the press is outside. They would like you to give a statement. You don’t have to, but—”
 

“No,” Elizabeth said, swinging her feet off the bed. “I want to. Now what do you think I should wear?”

•
   
•
   
•

H
ER
STATEMENT
TO
the press was, she liked to think, short and sweet. She went to stand behind the mini-lectern that had been set up with microphones sticking out like a bizarre bouquet, each with the call letters of the affiliates. She had not changed out of her jeans and wore one of the shirts the hospital had provided. She hadn’t taken a shower and she knew her hair was a mess but she didn’t care. She felt that her harried look would give her words more impact.
 

“Right now I don’t have much to say about this matter,” she told the cameras and the men and women standing behind those cameras and everyone else who was watching what was transmitted through those cameras. “In the next day or so I’m sure the FBI will release their official statement. All I can say right now is that it appears my husband, Edward Piccioni, did not murder any of the women he was convicted of murdering five years ago.”
 

This started a rumble among the reporters, and she raised a hand for silence.
 

“The real killers were identified late last night. They are now both dead. There were two of them. It’s a long story and I’m sure the FBI will tell you everything. Actually, speaking of the FBI, I would not be standing here now if it were not for two special agents. These agents both went above and beyond to protect my son and me and help bring these men to justice. Unfortunately, one of the agents was killed in the line of duty. He was a brave man. The other agent was injured. She seems to be okay now and hopefully soon she will be back on her feet and back on the job that she does so well. They are both your heroes. Thank you for your time. That is all.”

•
   
•
   
•

B
ACK
IN
THE
hospital room, Matthew was awake and eating breakfast, a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and milk and a plastic cup of apple juice. Julia Hogan sat in the chair next to the bed.
 

“What did you think about that?” Elizabeth asked.
 

“You’re crazy.”
 

“That should guarantee you at least keep your job. From what I understand, public opinion is a very strong thing.” She stared down at her son, then glanced at Julia again. “Now what about my husband?”
 

“Honestly, I don’t know.”
 

“If what Jim said was true, and I now believe it is, then Eddie had nothing to do with those murders.”
 

“He was still an accomplice.”
 

“By force.”
 

“That doesn’t mean anything and you know it. Look, the matter is being investigated as we speak.”
 

“Do you trust there will be a fair outcome?”
 

“I certainly hope so.”
 

Elizabeth stared down at her son again. Matthew chewed his cereal, his gaze directed up at the TV that Julia had now changed to cartoons. He noticed her watching him and smiled at her.
 

“So you’re still an agent, right?”
 

“Nobody has told me differently.”
 

“I need you to do me two favors. If you wouldn’t mind.”
 

“That depends. What are they?”
 

Elizabeth told her.
 

Julia Hogan said, “The second one makes sense, but are you positive about the first?”
 

Elizabeth thought about it for a moment. “I guess I won’t know until I confront her about it, will I?”

•
   
•
   
•

L
EAVING
THE
HOSPITAL
was easier than Elizabeth had thought it would be. Julia Hogan made some calls and then told Elizabeth they had the okay. Elizabeth didn’t want to leave Matthew alone but didn’t want to take him either. Not to the first place she needed to go, and certainly not to the second place. The nurse who had been checking on them since they first arrived agreed to keep an eye on Matthew. Julia talked to one of the cops in the building and asked him to stand guard outside the door.
 

Despite the bandage on her leg, Julia drove. Neither woman spoke the entire way except when Elizabeth told her to turn here or there. Finally they came to the townhouses. Elizabeth directed Julia to which townhouse and then they were parked and Elizabeth went up the steps and knocked on the door.
 

Baldy did not answer the door this time. Now it was Sheila, still dressed in her school outfit, the nice slacks and shirt. When she saw Elizabeth her hand went to her mouth.
 

“Oh my God. I saw the news. Are you okay?”
 

“I’ve been better.”
 

“I can’t believe it. It’s awful.”
 

Elizabeth only nodded.
 

Sheila’s gaze momentarily slid past Elizabeth to Julia Hogan in the parked car. “What are you doing here?”
 

“Michael’s dead.”
 

“I know. You told me last night.”
 

“He was murdered.”
 

“I—” Sheila cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
 

“A lot of people were murdered because of what my brother wanted.”
 

“Wait.” Frowning now. “Your brother?”
 

“If they never would have been able to track me down, none of this would have ever happened. Or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself.”
 

Sheila’s gaze shifted past her again for a second before shifting back. “I don’t think I’m following.”
 

“I never told anybody where I ended up. Nobody knew.”
 

“Okay,” Sheila said slowly. “Liz, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
 

“Nobody knew where I was. I never told anyone. Not even you.”
 

“I know. You had just sent me a message. You never said where you were.”
 

“Right,” Elizabeth said, nodding slowly, watching Sheila’s eyes, this woman who had once been her very best friend, who with Foreman had helped her escape her old life and start a new one. “I never did say where I was. But you figured it out easily enough, didn’t you?”
 

Sheila opened her mouth but that was it. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even frown or make any kind of face. After a very long moment, she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
 

“You knew exactly where I was, or at least the general vicinity, and you posted my location on Clarence Applegate’s message board.”
 

Sheila pushed her lips together so tight they almost disappeared. The uncertain look she’d been giving Elizabeth had turned into a glare.
 

“You don’t have any proof,” she said in a soft voice. “You can’t have me arrested.”
 

“Who said I was going to have you arrested? You committed no crime. You simply betrayed me.”
 

“Betrayed
you,” Sheila snorted. “If anything,
you
were the one who betrayed
me
. We were best friends. We trusted each other. And you ... you got to do something people only dream about. You got to start a new life. But what about me? I’ve lived in the same town my entire life. I’ve been teaching at the same goddamn school for fifteen years. My life is going nowhere.”
 

“So, what, you resent me for leaving?”
 

“You could have stayed. You could have faced everything. But no, you ran away.”
 

“What do you want me to say? I was a coward. I never should have left. I never should have put you or Michael in that position.”
 

“Michael and I getting together was a mistake. We were completely wrong for each other. But then we had our son and I ... I thought maybe things would be okay. But then our son died. Our son died and three weeks later I get your message telling me that everything is great and you’re safe and all that blah blah fucking blah. It literally made me sick. I was furious at you for what happened. If it hadn’t been for you, Michael and I would not have gotten together, and if we hadn’t gotten together, we never would have had our child. Christ, Elizabeth, I lost custody of my own children because of what happened. And then ... and then you tell me that you’re fine, that you’re motherfucking fine, and what am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to react? I was pissed—I was fucking pissed—and so yes, I tracked your ISP number and then went on Clarence Applegate’s board and posted your location. The day after I did it, I regretted it and tried to take it down but he wouldn’t allow it. So I tried to forget the entire thing. There now, are you happy? I confessed. Have them handcuff me and throw me in jail. I don’t give a shit. My life fucking sucks anyway so you would be doing me a favor.”
 

A moment passed, and Elizabeth said, “To get what I needed to save my son, I had to dig up your child’s grave. When I was done we refilled the hole, but you might want to have someone take a look at it and have it redone. I’m sorry for your loss.”
 

And she turned her back on Sheila and walked away.

•
   
•
   
•

“S
O
HOW
’
D
IT
go?” Julia Hogan asked once Elizabeth was back in the car.
 

Elizabeth stared through the windshield at Sheila still standing in the doorway of her townhouse. She clipped in her seatbelt and leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
 

“It’s over with,” she said. “Now please take me to see my husband.”

EPILOGUE:

SIX MONTHS LATER

E
DWARD
PICCIONI
WAS
released from Graterford Prison on a bright crisp Wednesday afternoon in March. There was no preamble to his release, no press waiting outside with microphones in hand, not even a freelance photographer standing with a camera wrapped around his neck and his hands bundled in his pockets to keep warm. Only Elizabeth and Matthew waited outside, watching the entrance tentatively.
 

The reason for the lack of turnout was all thanks to an agreement between the prison and the FBI. Her husband’s official release was not scheduled for another two weeks. Then the prison parking lot was guaranteed to be a circus of news vans and reporters and cameramen jostling for the best shot and opening question. But the FBI had talked with the warden and the warden agreed to release Eddie two weeks beforehand. Only a few people knew the extent of this change in procedure, for fear that someone might leak it to the press and cause an even crazier circus than the one they no doubt already had planned.
 

Over the past six months Elizabeth had gone to see her husband exactly thirty-nine times. She took Matthew with her only nine of those times. She wished she could have taken him more—she knew Eddie wanted to see him as much as possible, and Matthew had quickly warmed up to the father he had never known existed—but she didn’t like taking her son into the prison. Eddie understood, and didn’t blame her. Besides, he said, he had the rest of his life to spend with his son.
 

At 12:47 p.m. Eddie emerged from the entrance doors. He squinted into the light. All he had on were jeans, a gray Champion sweatshirt, and a pair of Reebok sneakers she’d purchased the week before.
 

Despite the three dozen or so cars parked in the lot, he spotted hers at once. She and Matthew were already stepping out of the car when he started toward them. Matthew reached him first. He ran into his father’s open arms and allowed Eddie to pick him up. Elizabeth stood smiling, tears in her eyes. Finally Eddie set Matthew down and turned to her. She stepped into his embrace. She held him tighter than she had ever held him before, kissed his cheek, kissed his lips, and ignored the tears threatening to form in her eyes.
 

They stood together in the parking lot for at least a minute, just holding each other, before Eddie said, “Ready to go?”
 

Her head on his shoulder, she nodded.