The Guilty Husband

STEPHANIE DECAROLIS is a lawyer living in New York with her husband, their two beautiful daughters, and their very spoiled cat. She is a graduate of Binghamton University and St. John’s University School of Law. When she’s not writing, Stephanie can usually be found baking, crafting, or taking photographs. The Guilty Husband is her debut novel.

The Guilty Husband

STEPHANIE DECAROLIS

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

HarperCollinsPublishers

1st Floor, Watermarque Building, Ringsend Road

Dublin 4, Ireland

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2021

Copyright © Stephanie DeCarolis

Stephanie DeCarolis asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © March 2021 ISBN: 9780008462109

Version: 2021-02-16

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1: Vince – Day 1

Chapter 2: Allison – Day 1

Chapter 3: Vince – Day 1

Chapter 4: Vince – Day 1

Chapter 5: Vince – Before

Chapter 6: Allison – Day 1

Chapter 7: Vince – Day 2

Chapter 8: Allison – Day 2

Chapter 9: Vince – Day 2

Chapter 10: Vince – Day 3

Chapter 11: Vince – Before

Chapter 12: Allison – Day 3

Chapter 13: Vince – Day 3

Chapter 14: Vince – Before

Chapter 15: Allison – Day 3

Chapter 16: Vince – Day 4

Chapter 17: Vince – Before

Chapter 18: Allison – Day 4

Chapter 19: Vince – Day 4

Chapter 20: Vince – Before

Chapter 21: Allison – Day 4

Chapter 22: Vince – Day 4

Chapter 23: Vince – Before

Chapter 24: Allison – Day 5

Chapter 25: Vince – Day 5

Chapter 26: Vince – Day 6

Chapter 27: Allison – Day 6

Chapter 28: Vince – Day 6

Chapter 29: Vince – Before

Chapter 30: Allison – Day 7

Chapter 31: Vince – Day 7

Chapter 32: Allison – Day 8

Chapter 33: Allison – Day 8

Chapter 34: Vince – Day 9

Chapter 35: Allison – Day 9

Chapter 36: Allison – Day 10

Chapter 37: Vince – Day 10

Chapter 38: Allison – Day 10

Chapter 39: Vince – Day 10

Chapter 40: Layla – Before

Chapter 41: Layla – Before

Chapter 42: Vince – Day 10

Chapter 43: Layla – Before

Chapter 44: Allison – Day 11

Chapter 45: Allison – Day 12

Chapter 46: Layla – Before

Chapter 47: Layla – Before

Chapter 48: Vince – Day 13

Chapter 49: Nicole – Day 13

Chapter 50: Nicole – Day 13

Chapter 51: Vince – Day 14

Chapter 52: Allison – Day 14

Chapter 53: Vince – Ten Months Later

Acknowledgements

Dear Reader …

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

For my husband, who believes I can do anything, and for my daughters whom I hope to inspire to believe the same of themselves.

Chapter 1

Vince

DAY 1

It started, as so many things do, with a choice. Though it wasn’t one consciously planned – a decision made, a line drawn in the sand. No, this felt more like something that happened while I wasn’t looking. The gentle pull of the tide that sweeps you out to sea while you’re preoccupied with the feeling of sunshine on your face. It all happened so slowly, and yet all at once. It started so small, a glance exchanged, a word whispered, but somehow, it’s grown into something so large that it now looms over my life, casting a shadow on everything I once thought I’d die to protect.

I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’ve become someone I barely recognize, making decisions I never thought I would make. What started with one mistake, one bad choice, has become many. One following the next until I could no longer keep up, I couldn’t set it right. But in truth, I didn’t really try. Not until it was too late anyway. I didn’t know, in those glittering early days, what malevolent thing would curl around me like smoke, so thick and so dark, that soon I wouldn’t be able to see my way through it any longer.

I need to snap out of it. I need to focus. I stare at the spreadsheet on my computer screen, the cursor blinking at me impatiently. I know I should be working. I’ll need these quarterly numbers before the board meeting this afternoon, but I’m distracted today.

I glance down at my cell phone that’s resting, face down, next to my keyboard. I try to resist the urge to flip it over, again. To check for new messages. But the pull is too strong. Disgusted with my own disappointing lack of will power, I check my home screen. No new notifications. This is what I wanted, right? Don’t contact me again. Then why does this silence feel like the quieting of birds before an impending storm?

‘Vince?’

The voice rattles me and I drop my phone like a child caught sneaking sweets before dinner.

‘Sorry,’ my assistant Eric says, ‘didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘No, no, I was just lost in thought for a moment. What’s up?’

‘There’s someone here to see you,’ he replies.

‘Really? I don’t see a meeting on my schedule. I’m supposed to sit down with the board in about an hour and I thought I had cleared my morning to finish up the quarterly reports.’ We’re about to launch a new branch of the company, expanding from software development into producing video games. It’s a huge step for KitzTech and I have a lot riding on it.

‘It’s not a meeting … It’s a detective,’ Eric says.

‘A detective? Do you know what it’s about?’

‘She said it’s about one of our interns. Layla Bosch. She’s … she was killed last night.’

I feel the blood rush from my face, the periphery of my vision start to blur. My stomach drops and I have the strange sensation that I’m suddenly in free fall.

‘Do you … want me to send her in?’ Eric asks.

‘Of course, yes, send her in right away.’ I straighten up in my seat, willing myself to regain my composure.

Eric leaves my office, closing the door softly behind him.

I rake my hands through my thick, wavy hair. I’ve started to notice that it’s thinning lately, but Nicole says she can’t see any difference. Nicole. What am I going to tell her? Do I have to tell her anything? I guess I’m about to find out.

I hear a quick rap on the door; a courtesy before Eric swings it open. We have an open door policy around here, and even though I’m the CEO, I constantly have consultants, associates, and my production teams coming in and out of my office throughout the day. I try to keep a relaxed and open feeling in our company; I think it’s essential to keep the employees happy and the creativity flowing. But today Eric escorts the detective into my office and shuts the door behind him.

‘Mr Taylor, I’m Detective Allison Barnes,’ the detective says extending her hand to me. I’m taken aback for a moment when I first see Detective Barnes. I suppose I’ve always imagined detectives the way I’ve seen them portrayed on television – middle aged, paunchy, rough around the edges. Detective Barnes is nothing of the sort with her thin frame, glossy brown hair pulled back into a smooth bun, and her rich olive skin. In another version of my life, I might have found her attractive, but today all I can focus on are her sharp hazel eyes, which are already looking me up and down, seeking out my cracks and flaws.

I walk around my desk to shake her hand, and offer her a warm smile. ‘Come on in, take a seat.’

I gesture for her to sit in one of the low-slung leather chairs situated across from my desk. I walk back to my own chair and sit behind my large glass desk, assuming a position of power, confidence. It’s all part of the show.

‘Thank you,’ Detective Barnes says, sitting primly on the edge of her seat as she takes in my spacious, modern office. My office is of a minimalist design, and, like the rest of our corporate headquarters, it’s painted a bright white. I notice the detective’s gaze lingering curiously on the only splashes of color in here, the assortment of beanbag chairs and yoga balls that also serve as seating options in my office. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt your morning, but unfortunately it seems that one of your interns, Layla Bosch, was killed last night.’

‘Yes, my assistant, Eric, just told me,’ I reply. ‘That’s truly awful. May I ask what happened to her?’

Barnes nods curtly. ‘We found her body in Central Park this morning. I’m afraid that’s all I’m able to tell you at this time.’

I feel my pulse quicken, my heart beating rapidly like a bird futilely thrashing its wings against a metal cage.

‘My partner, Detective Lanner, and I are here to interview anyone who may have known Ms Bosch. We’re trying to sort out if there was anything going on in her life, if there was anyone who may have wanted to harm her. Detective Lanner is meeting with your assistant at the moment.’

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Unfortunately, I personally didn’t work too closely with Ms Bosch, so I’m afraid I won’t be of much assistance to you, but I can have Eric pull up the names of her direct supervisors for you.’

‘I figured as much. I didn’t expect that the CEO of a big company like this would have much day-to-day contact with the interns, but I would certainly appreciate that list of her supervisors.’

I nod, and jot down a note to have Eric pull the names of everyone that Layla Bosch was assigned to work with.

‘So,’ Barnes continues, ‘did you know Ms Bosch?’

‘We like to call ourselves a family here at KitzTech, and that includes the interns. I make it a point to try to get to know everyone that works for me, but from what I recall Ms Bosch hasn’t been with us for very long. She would have come in with the new class of interns only about five months ago, so I didn’t have the chance to get to know her as well as I may have liked.’

‘What can you tell me about her?’

‘Well, like I said, I didn’t have much opportunity to work with her personally, but I’ve heard great things through her supervisors. I hear she was a very ambitious and intelligent young lady that likely would have been offered a full-time position after the completion of her internship. But I’m afraid that’s all the information I can offer you, Detective. I wish I could be of more assistance.’

‘Thank you, Mr Taylor,’ Barnes says.

‘Just call me Vince. Everyone around here does.’

‘We would like access to Ms Bosch’s personnel file if you’d be so willing.’

‘Of course. Anything you need. I’ll have Eric pull that for you as well. And if there is anything else we at KitzTech can do to assist in your investigation, please don’t hesitate to ask.’ I slowly rise from my chair. ‘I don’t mean to rush you out, but I’m scheduled to meet with my board in just a moment unless there is anything else you need?’

‘No, thank you, Mr Taylor. Vince. That’ll be fine for now. I appreciate your time this morning, and I’m sure we’ll be in touch.’ Detective Barnes pulls herself up from the chair and dusts off her perfectly-pressed pants.

I smile and extend my hand across the desk, hoping that she hasn’t noticed the sweat beading along my collar. It’s only a matter of time before she finds out that I’m lying.

Chapter 2

Allison

DAY 1

He’s lying. Or, at the very least, there is something that Vince Taylor is not telling me, something hiding beneath his flawless smile. Vince was not at all what I was expecting when I asked to speak to the CEO of KitzTech. For one thing, I didn’t expect him to be so startlingly attractive. My hand automatically goes to check my hair just thinking about him, and I can sense the color rising into my cheeks as I recall the tiny gasp I was unable to suppress when I first saw him walking towards me in his expensive jeans and crisply-pressed shirt. He smelled of citrus and sandalwood, of exotic currents from faraway places.

Vince is casually handsome, as if he’s become accustomed to how good-looking he is, but yet I suspect he’s still very much aware of the charming effect his tall stature, broad shoulders, and honey-brown eyes have on everyone else around him. He’s younger than I imagined he would be too. I’d guess he’s around forty, with gentle laugh lines around his eyes and an easy, languid confidence that comes from living on top of his world.

Vince sat behind his fancy desk, in his absurdly large office, looking appropriately concerned about the death of his young intern, but something about him struck me as odd. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I have a gut feeling that there is more to him than the relaxed jeans, finger-combed hair, and movie star smile. I make a note to myself to look into Vince Taylor.

I walk down the large, glass spiral staircase at the center of the KitzTech corporate headquarters and into the brightly lit white lobby to meet my partner, Jake Lanner.

‘Can you believe this place?’ Lanner asks, gesturing at the grand, minimalist lobby. It’s all polished glass and pristine surfaces. ‘Did you notice they don’t even have light switches?’

I quickly scan the walls. He’s right. Not a single light switch, outlet, or wire in sight. I try to think back to the inside of Vince Taylor’s office. Much like the lobby, his office was white and sparsely furnished, with the exception of a few brightly colored beanbags and yoga balls that seemed a bit ridiculous for a CEO’s office. It was obvious that he tries to be the ‘fun’ boss that lets his employees call him by his first name and ‘hang out’ in his office that is easily larger than my apartment. But Lanner is right. I didn’t see the familiar tangle of wires coming from the back of his desktop computer.

‘I’m telling you, Barnes. The entire place is wireless. Everything is controlled by these little panels that blend into the walls. Watch,’ Lanner says as he walks towards a glass doorway reading ‘Café’ He places his hand on the outside of the door frame and a control panel illuminates asking for an employee ID.

‘Can I help you?’ a chipper young woman asks. Thick, trendy black glasses are perched on the bridge of her nose and she’s wearing a form fitting, yet professional, black dress.

I turn and introduce myself and Lanner.

‘Yes, you’re the detectives here about Layla, right? Such a shame. I’m Rachael. I work at the front desk. Sorry to have missed you earlier but I was giving a tour of the facilities to some new applicants. Is there anything I can help you with?’

‘No,’ Lanner responds. ‘We were just admiring all the tech around here.’ He’s in his element. Lanner loves anything techie.

‘It’s very cool, isn’t it?’ Rachael says, nodding. ‘There’s a panel like this outside just about every door. You just have to touch the panel to light it up. To get in and out of any of the community spaces around here you need to scan your employee ID, and to get into any of the restricted spaces you need to scan your fingerprints. We get a lot of people who stop in just to see the facility and we found that this was the best way to keep them out of the areas we don’t want them wandering into. Would you like something from the Café? I can scan you in.’

‘No, thank you,’ I respond. ‘We were just leaving.’

‘Okay, good luck with the investigation. I hope you find whoever did this,’ Rachael says solemnly as she scans her ID, prompting the glass doors of the Café to slide open before her.

Lanner and I begin walking toward the exit. ‘So what’s the deal with this place?’ I ask him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘KitzTech. I know it’s a technology development company, but this office doesn’t exactly give me the “nerdy computer programmer” vibes I was expecting.’

‘Nerdy? Come on, they created Friend Connect!’ Lanner exclaims, evidently surprised at my lack of familiarity.

‘That stupid social media site?’

‘I swear, Barnes. I think you’re the last person on Earth who still doesn’t use social media. Even my grandmother has a Friend Connect page! But, yes. Friend Connect is a social meeting space where you can post pictures, connect with video calls, send messages, that kind of thing. It’s crazy popular. KitzTech also put out Date Space. Do you know that one?’

‘No, what the hell is that?’ I ask.

Lanner rolls his eyes. ‘It’s another app where you can connect with singles in your area and it gives you a private, virtual space to connect before you meet in person. Slightly less sleazy than other dating apps. Trust me. I’ve tried out a few. But if sleazy is your thing, KitzTech also created Secret Message. It’s an app that you can download on your phone to send discrete messages with anyone else using the program. The messages automatically disappear after they’re read. You can imagine what that one is used for …’ Lanner explains with a goofy smile.

‘So, basically what I’m hearing is that Vince Taylor is probably pretty wealthy?’

‘Try extremely wealthy,’ Lanner replies. ‘You gotta see his house.’

Lanner pulls out his phone and quickly taps away at it before turning it around and showing me a photo of what could easily pass for a luxury resort. The house, or I should say mansion, is incredible. An expansive villa set against a wooded backdrop. The aerial view Lanner found highlights the private pool, tennis courts, and long winding drive. The large property is extremely secluded and bordered by a stately stone wall – the only thing separating the grandeur of the home from the tangled woodland surrounding it.

‘Just a touch larger than my apartment,’ I scoff with a roll of my eyes, as I envision my tiny one-bedroom rental with the rattling air-conditioner that can’t seem to keep up with the suffocating heat wave we’ve been experiencing.

‘I’ll say,’ Lanner agrees. ‘But if it makes you feel any better, his commute into the city from Loch Harbor probably sucks.’

That earns him another eye roll. ‘You know, somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better at all.’

‘Anyway,’ Lanner continues, ‘did you get anything good from your interview with him?’

‘Not really. He didn’t seem to know the victim too well. She was just an intern and she’s only been here a few months, but there was something about him that didn’t sit right with me. I’m gonna scope him out later. You get anything good?’

‘Not much. The vic worked with the development team. They were working on some new app or something. All very top secret,’ Lanner says. ‘Pretty much everyone on the team had the same things to say about her though: she was a quiet girl, kept to herself, but very bright and very ambitious. Apparently she showed a lot of promise.’

‘Any luck getting in touch with her next of kin?’

‘No,’ Lanner explains, ‘but I had Kinnon drop by her address this morning and he got in touch with her neighbor. She’s on her way down to the morgue now to ID the body.’

‘Let’s meet her there,’ I say.

I hate the morgue. I can’t count how many times I’ve been here during my years on the job, but it never gets any easier. The cold metal slabs, the blue-gray lifeless bodies, and the smell of formaldehyde make me shudder every time. But I have to keep it together. I’ve only recently been promoted to detective and this is the first major homicide investigation that I’ve been put in charge of, and so I don’t want to show any signs of weakness.

Lanner and I have worked together for a long time. Although he made detective almost a year before I did, we more or less came up the ranks together, so he already knows my feelings on hanging out with dead bodies. But still, as lead detective on this case, I feel like I have something to prove. Lanner is a good guy, but he’s still exactly that … a guy. In a male-dominated police force, I can’t afford to look like I can’t handle the gore that comes along with the job.

‘You ready?’ Lanner asks.

‘Of course.’

I pull back my shoulders, shake off the eerie chill that this place gives me, and walk into the lobby to meet Layla Bosch’s neighbor.

We find her sitting on one of the small wooden chairs in the waiting room under a mop of frizzy black curls. She seems almost folded in on herself, making herself appear as small as possible, while she nervously picks at the skin on the side of her thumb.

‘Hi, I’m Detective Allison Barnes,’ I say gently as I approach. ‘And this is my partner, Detective Jake Lanner.’

‘I’m Mindy,’ the woman says in a small voice, as she brushes a rogue curl away from her face. ‘I can’t believe this is happening. Are you sure it’s Layla?’

‘We think so,’ Lanner says. ‘We found her work ID badge on her when we arrived at the scene this morning. But we need you to identify the body, if you can, so that we can be sure the woman we found is Layla Bosch.’

‘Yes, I can do that,’ Mindy says, pulling herself to a stand. It looks as though she’s doing her best to brace herself for what’s to come.

‘Follow me,’ I tell her as I lead the way to the viewing room.

‘Do I have to … go in the room?’ Mindy asks, her eyes widening. ‘You know … with the body?’

‘No,’ I assure her. ‘The coroner will go into the autopsy room and he’ll pull back the sheet, just away from her face. You’ll see her here,’ I explain, indicating a television monitor in the center of the room.

‘And all you’ll have to do is tell us if you recognize the body. If it’s Layla,’ Lanner adds.

‘Okay. I can do that,’ Mindy says, but she can’t seem to stop her hands from shaking.

The television flickers to life and the familiar face of the coroner, Dr Allen Gress, appears on the screen. ‘Are you ready?’ he asks.

Lanner presses a button on the intercom next to the screen. ‘We are,’ he says. ‘Go ahead.’

Dr Gress gently lifts a white sheet away from the victim’s face. He’s cleaned her up a bit since we’ve last seen her. Her face is no longer splattered with dirt, and her hair, which was matted with blood this morning, has been carefully brushed away from her face. The red dress, mottled with dark red blood, that she was wearing when we found her, has been cut away and replaced with a clean white sheet tucked neatly under her sides.