A Perfect Husband by Aphrodite Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

Michael had hired the workers to paint the area. She was grateful for that. She felt a fresh coat of new paint was probably a good way to handle the horrific stairway.
    But much to her surprise, the workers weren’t there to paint at all. As Candace looked on in disbelief, the men started setting up a photography shoot. They were working on backlighting. Candace couldn’t understand it. She thought it was the strangest thing in the world.
    Moments later, Michael explained that, unfortunately, the photography had to be done. Because the police were trying to frame him, it had been suggested that Michael take photos of the scene. Michael said he really couldn’t rely on whatever the police had done the night of Kathleen’s death. The police were being obnoxious; they had been out to get him from day one. Michael felt their work efforts would certainly be slanted; the police work would be heavily one-sided. Michael needed to protect himself.
    Candace didn’t quite like the idea of her sister’s death scene being preserved and photographed, but she realized that Michael was innocent. If he felt he needed to do certain things, if he felt the police were harassing him, it might make sense that he have his own set of photos. She figured that Michael’s brother Bill, an attorney, might have suggested it, just as a precaution.
    As soon as the photos were taken, Candace was happy to see that the stairwell was being boarded up. Candace felt there was no need for any of the other people in Kathleen’s life—certainly not her daughters—to ever have to look at something like that.
    As it was, the police presence around the house was unnerving. The yellow tape was causing extra grief for the family. Things were hard enough on them already, with Kathleen gone so suddenly.
    With all the drama going on in that house—amid the police, the tears, and the media beginning to call—at least the blood wouldn’t be visible any longer.

Seven
    It had been a typical winter day in New York, December 9, 2001, the day Caitlin received word that there were important messages for her from her sorority friends at Cornell. She had been out late the night before and had strolled in at noon after crashing at a girlfriend’s house. She couldn’t understand why she had so many messages waiting for her. She walked around her sorority house, looking to find one of her friends to figure out what was going on, when she came across her friend Becka, who took her into the piano room, looking very upset.
    Caitlin could see her friend had been crying. Caitlin knew it was something serious, there was that bad feeling in the air. She started to think one of their friends had an accident. But Becka was refusing to tell her what the matter was. Her friend wanted Caitlin to wait for some other people. Even though Caitlin was becoming increasingly upset, Becka wouldn’t talk. Then Caitlin finally looked her friend in the eye and pleaded with her.
    â€œYou can’t do this to me,” Caitlin said. “What’s upsetting you so much? What’s wrong?”
    â€œI can’t tell you. I have to wait.”
    â€œI don’t understand. Why are you doing this? What is it?”
    Caitlin was begging her friend to speak. After a long pause, after what seemed an eternity, Becka finally knew she would have to break the news.
    â€œCaitlin, it’s your mom.”
    â€œWhat about my mom?”
    â€œCaitlin, she’s gone. There’s been an accident. She fell down the stairs. Caitlin, your mom is dead.”
    Becka’s words whirled in Caitlin’s head. This was the first time ever that the cheerful nineteen-year-old had suffered a real loss in her life. She never knew death. She never knew tragedy. Up until then, any bad news Caitlin ever heard had been followed by a silver lining. But not this time. This time, the news was completely final.
    As Caitlin was trying to process it all, the