Chapter 16 - THE VISIT BEHIND TWO PANES OF GLASS
I agreed to see Vanessa in the fourth year of her sentence.
The visit occurred in a correctional interview room divided by glass. Her attorney, treatment counselor, and a facility officer remained present. No physical contact was possible.
Vanessa entered wearing a dark green uniform. Her blonde hair had been cut to her shoulders. Without expensive clothes and carefully chosen lighting, she looked more like Richard than she ever had before.
Especially around the eyes.
She sat.
For several seconds, neither of us lifted the phone.
Then Vanessa did.
I followed.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
“I did not come as a reward.”
“I know.”
“Why did you request the meeting?”
Her fingers tightened around the receiver.
“My counselor asked me to identify the person I was trying to kill.”
I waited.
“I wrote your name.”
“That seems accurate.”
“She said a name wasn’t an answer.”
Vanessa looked through the glass.
“I realized I didn’t know who you were outside Dad’s marriage.”
That surprised me more than an apology would have.
For years, Vanessa reduced me to categories: second wife, outsider, beneficiary, obstacle. Murder became possible after she removed everything human that did not support those categories.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
She looked unprepared.
“What were you like before him?”
“I worked too much.”
A faint smile appeared.
“I can believe that.”
“I lost my first husband to cancer when I was forty-two. I did not remarry for eleven years. I hated orchids until Richard spent an entire winter teaching me how not to kill them.”
“You hated orchids?”
“Yes.”
She almost laughed.
The sound stopped quickly.
“My father told me you loved them.”
“I learned to.”
Vanessa looked down.
“He did that. He told the final version of things like they had always been true.”
“Yes.”
“Did he love me?”
The question came from somewhere younger than twenty-eight.
“Yes.”
“Did he love you more?”
“Love is not a bank account.”
“That’s what everyone says when they received more.”
I let the sentence stand.
Then I answered.
“Your father trusted me more.”
Pain crossed her face.
“That is not the same thing as loving me more. But I will not lie to protect you from why the trust was different.”
She nodded slowly.
“I used to think the house proved you won.”
“There was no competition I agreed to enter.”
“Mom said that’s what winners always say.”
“Marlene taught you every relationship had a winner because then losing her marriage could become your lifelong assignment.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“She says you poisoned Dad against us.”
“Your mother sent me a photograph from his hospice room to frighten me.”
Vanessa looked up sharply.
“She denied it.”
“She may not have delivered it herself. The investigation connected Grant’s driver to the estate road.”
Her expression hardened, then softened into exhaustion.
“I kept believing one of them would eventually be innocent.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I did the same thing with Richard.”
We sat separated by glass, each holding a phone, each admitting the person we loved had helped create a dangerous room.
Vanessa began crying.
I did not tell her everything would be all right.
At the end of the hour, she asked whether I would visit again.
“I don’t know.”
“Can I keep writing?”
“Yes.”
“Will you answer?”
“Sometimes.”
She accepted that.
Before leaving, she placed her palm against the glass.
May you like
I did not place mine against the other side.
But I stayed until the officer led her away.
