Cassie

“Ma’am, is there someone I can call for you? A friend or relative maybe?” Detective Sommers formed his words gingerly to the crying woman sitting across from him.

“No! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Megan let out a frustrated sob. “She’s dead! My wife is dead! She was stabbed right in front of me and you people aren't doing anything about it!”

“Mrs. Chalmers, I have officers on the scene. We’re canvasing the neighborhood for witnesses to corroborate your statement. We are doing everything we can. Please just trust the process.” Sommers entreated.

At those words, Megan’s exasperation crescendoed. “Trust the process?! What is this, amateur hour?! You’re the cops! It’s literally your job to find the person who attacked us!” She kicked back the metal chair she was sitting on and started pacing.

“Mrs. Chalmers, I understand you’re upset. But I need you to remain calm while we gather evidence.” The detective said in the most soothing, even voice he could supply.

“Whoever that creepo was, stabbed Cassie and almost stabbed me! I barely made it out alive and you’re telling me to remain calm?!” Megan shrieked, slamming her fists on the table. The small microphone perched in the center toppled over. Megan caught sight of her fury reflected in the two-way mirror on the opposite wall and took a much-needed deep breath.

Detective Sommers reset the audio recording device. “Ma’am, I don’t doubt that you believe you saw your wife get assaulted. You arrived hysterical and unintelligible.” He straightened up in his chair, measuring how to continue. “I am trying to understand the facts. Your clothes were clean but you stated you were holding your wife when she was attacked. Is that correct?”

Megan glared at Detective Sommers. “What do you mean clean?” 

“Clean, Mrs. Chalmers.” Sommers leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the table as he spoke. “As in no blood. The incident as you described would’ve left trace residue, particularly blood. Forensics didn’t find any on your clothes. Did you change before entering the precinct?”

Megan was aghast, unable to issue a response.

Sommers took note of her reaction. “Ma’am, we’ve placed you under a 72-hour hold pending psychiatric assessment.”

“You’re calling me crazy?” Megan whispered, as if the breath had been knocked from her.

“No, ma’am. I am just informing you of what’s happening.” Sommers answered placidly.

Pulling her chair back toward the table, Megan took her seat. She stared at the detective blankly, trying to process what she had just heard. Sommers regarded Megan's far-off expression. He couldn’t tell if she was faking it for attention or if she was legitimately mentally ill, but his gut told him something was off. The psychologist was due to arrive momentarily. “Mrs. Chalmers...”

“Megan.” She broke in, diverting her attention to her hands which now laid flat against the cold surface of the table. “If I’m going to be here for three more days, we might as well get friendly.”

“Ok. Megan, I’m here to investigate your story to the best of my ability. I want you to know that. But, as of right now, I need more information. There are dots that aren't connecting. Do you understand where I’m coming from?” Sommers queried. Megan nodded absently. The detective stood. “The psychologist should be here shortly. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?” Megan shook her disconcerted head. Sommers waited another beat wondering if leaving her alone in this state was for the best. He decided to leave.

Megan was left to stew in her confusion. Her mind was a tangle of thoughts and memories conflating. She was trying to parse out what actually happened the night before. She had already recalled what she could to the officer at the front desk, to Detective Sommers, and now she’ll have to rehash it again to a shrink just to prove that she’s not insane. The detective clearly thought she wasn't being truthful. Megan was losing confidence in her senses.

The door opened and a click-clack of heels against the vinyl tile floor roused Megan from her brooding. She looked up into the familiar face of the woman she caught in bed with her wife. Megan’s jaw dropped.

“Hello, Mrs. Chalmers. I’m Dr. Borden.” The bespectacled doctor greeted gaily, holding out her hand to shake. Megan didn’t move, she could only manage to gape at the doctor’s hand. The same hand that Megan had witnessed caressing her Cassie’s most intimate body parts. Dr. Borden awkwardly withdrew her limb and sat in the seat once occupied by Detective Sommers. Arranging her notebooks on the table, Dr. Borden began her exposition. “I will be asking a battery of standardized questions to help better assess your current mental state. After that...”

Megan cut her off indignantly. “What the hell are YOU doing here?”

Borden was taken aback. Regaining her composure, she replied. “I am here to perform a psychological assessment, Mrs. Chalmers. As I was saying, after the standardized questions...”

Megan interrupted again. “You know what I mean, you bitch.”

The doctor was dumbstruck. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Megan spat back. ”You were preoccupied when I walked in on you between my wife’s legs the other night.”

“I... uh... I think you have the wrong person.” Dr. Borden stammered bewilderedly.

“No, I don’t. There’s no way that I could ever mistake the person that ended my marriage.” Megan seethed.

Borden paused to reevaluate the situation before proceeding. “Mrs. Chalmers, I understand that you are going through a stressful time. It’s apparent the stress has been building for a while. Is that a fair assumption?” She questioned, pushing her glasses up to the bridge of her nose.

Megan snickered. “What an astute observation. Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Homewrecker?”

The doctor chose a notebook and settled into the chair. “Explain what has been going on. We can start with the night you walked in on your wife’s indiscretion.”

Megan leered. “We're really going to pretend you weren't there?”

“We can start with standardized questions if you prefer.” Dr. Borden countered, unaffected by Megan's assertion.

“Will me airing my dirty laundry get you out of my sight faster?” Megan sneered.

“The short answer is yes, Mrs. Chalmers.” Dr. Borden uttered matter-of-factly as she scribbled notes.

Megan eyes rolled. “Fine. I walked in. You were in MY bed with MY wife. I walked out and waited for you to leave. Cassie and I argued. She asked for a divorce. Satisfied? Are we done?”

Dr. Borden paused her pen. "Your wife asked for a divorce? Did you notice anything in her behavior prior that could've led to such dramatic behavior?”

“Are you saying that wasn’t the first time you banged my wife?” Megan derided.

Borden’s pen resumed its motion. “Mrs. Chalmers...”

“Megan.” Megan interrupted scornfully. “MISSUS Chalmers was my married name, but I'm a widow. That’s why you’re here, right?”

Dr. Borden remained stoic. “Megan. Did your wife have relationships outside of the marriage before?”

“No.” Megan retorted curtly.

The doctor pried. “How long did you suspect she was having an extramarital relationship?”

“I didn’t.” Megan insisted in the same abrupt manner.

Borden brought her gaze back up to Megan, keeping her expression neutral. Borden allowed the silence to coax her interviewee on.

“What?” Megan asked defensively. “I didn’t know anything. I came home a day early from the convention. I walked in and there she was with you. I stumbled upon the truth; I wasn’t looking for it.”

The doctor's attention turned back to her notes. “What happened next?”

Hurt unconsciously flitted across Megan’s face. “I went to the kitchen and downed a few shots of whiskey and waited. I heard the front door close and Cassie came to the kitchen. She was surprised apparently. Fancy that.” She trailed off.

“You mentioned an argument. Was it violent?” Dr. Borden questioned.

“No, nothing like that.” Megan muttered somberly. “I mean, it was bad. The worst one ever. But Cassie would never put her hands on me.”

Borden ruminated on Megan’s words. “What about you? Have you ever raised a hand to Cassie?”

“Never!” Megan snapped back before a realization hit. “At least, I didn’t think I could’ve.” She sank back into her melancholy.

Dr. Borden remained quiet as Megan lost herself in the chain of events replaying in her head.

“There’s a lot that’s a blur. I was drunk by the time Cassie came downstairs. She said she was in love with someone. I’m guessing that was you. I never thought she would cheat.” Megan chuckled sardonically. “She couldn’t just cheat, she had to fall in love. But that’s Cassie, when she sets her mind to something she’s all in. She asked for a divorce and I lost it; I think. I can’t remember who swung first but there was blood in the kitchen when I woke up on the couch yesterday morning. Not a lot, but enough to know why she hadn’t come back home yet.”

“So, Cassie left. Do you know where she went?” Dr. Borden probed.

“No. I mean, I guess she went to your house because she didn’t come back until late last night. Her cell was off. I couldn’t even track her GPS.” Megan imparted, mentally rummaging through the timeline. “When she got home, she wouldn’t talk to me. I threw a fit, but she was stone. The consummate winner of the silent treatment game.”

“Cassie came home last night. The same night she was attacked.” The doctor recapitulated.

“Yeah. She was stabbed last night.” Megan emptily acknowledged.

“What happened when Cassie got home?” Borden nudged.

Megan tried to focus. “I was lying in bed. I drank most of the day, so I was a little buzzed. I wanted to talk but she ignored me and started packing. I got mad. Started snatching clothes out of her hand and threw them out the window. She tried to leave, and I chased after her. She made it to the stairs first...” Her words died away again.

Dr. Borden gave Megan a moment before prodding further. “You were both on the stairs?”

Megan looked at the doctor pleadingly. “Yeah. She fell, I think. I might’ve pushed her. I don’t think I did though.”

Dr. Borden sat her notebook down. “What do you remember?” She asked, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the steel.

Megan's eyes flicked back and forth, searching through the chronology. “I remember running down after her. Cassie got up from the bottom. I might've helped her up. I’m not sure. She was in my arms. I remember her back being against my chest and seeing blood. I know that for sure. The smell of pennies is burned into my nostrils. Someone else was there too. I couldn’t see who. The lights weren't on downstairs, but I know someone was there for sure. They leapt after me, so I ran. Then I came here.” She glanced at the doctor again. “I left her there bleeding.” She whispered as if confessing her sin.

Dr. Borden sat back in her chair. “Is there anything you can remember about what the intruder looked like? Height? Body type? A sound or smell?”

Megan closed her eyes, conjuring the memory. She shook her head. “No. I just smell Cassie. Everything is so disjointed. I feel like my brain is in a blender. I know that Cassie is dead, and I saw it happen. I know I saw a knife. I remember that distinctly. But everything else is just so messy.” She laid her head against the tabletop in exhaustion.

“We can stop. I’ll give my recommendation to Detective Sommers and a decision will be made from there.” Dr. Borden explained as she gathered her belongings.

“You’re going to tell him I’m crazy, aren’t you?” Megan asked, her head still down.

Dr. Borden pondered a bit. “’Crazy’ isn’t an official diagnosis.” She remarked, then left. 

Detective Sommers took a sip of his coffee as he waited in the observation room behind the two-way mirror. Seconds after walking out of the interview room, Dr. Borden click-clacked her way next door and took a seat next to the detective.

“You get what you needed?” She asked, contemplating the distraught woman on the other side of the glass.

“I suppose so. Did you?” He reciprocated, studying Borden’s response.

“No. But I can work with what she gave.” The doctor responded, returning his gaze. “Did you get the cleaners out to the scene like I asked?”

Sommers’ attention spun back to the subject on the other side of the glass. “Yes, I called in another favor for you. You going to tell me what all this about or do I have to find out on my own?” He threatened.

Borden smirked. “How much do you really want me to tell you? Isn’t it better to not know for plausible deniability‘s sake?”

“It’s my job and you’re my sister, Ally. I don’t want to know but I have to, for self-preservation's sake.” He commented with displeasure.

“I’ll spill, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She chided, seizing Sommers’ coffee from his hand and downing the rest of its contents. She coughed uncontrollably as the liquid burned its way down her esophagus. “Damn, Andy. Put better booze in your coffee. Bottom shelf is for losers and lawyers.”

Andy took his cup back and got up to pour himself another. “I don’t have all day. Get to it so I can finish cleaning up your mess before Sarge catches wind.” He called over his shoulder.

“To the point as always, big brother. The TLDR version is, I found out my girlfriend was married and it made me a little upset.” Ally stated prosaically.

“Cassie Chalmers?” Andy deduced, handing her a drink.

“Cassie Chadwick is the name she gave me, but yes.” Ally corrected, taking a swig. “Anyway, I wouldn’t have known about Megan if she hadn’t come home.”

“So, you did see her.” Andy reiterated, leaning against the frame of the mirror.

“Of course I did. Megan has all the sneaky subtlety of a chainsaw.” Ally joked, the spiked coffee loosening her tongue. “I got mad. Cassie apologized; told me she was asking for a divorce. I was skeptical, so I left. She was on my doorstep a few hours later. Cassie came clean about everything. Megan abused her, was using drugs, having an affair with her boss; look up 'bad marriage' in the dictionary and there's a picture of the Chalmers'. I decided to get Megan out of our lives.” She raised her cup in salute.

Andy looked at Megan again. She hadn't moved. A tiny puddle of tears was forming between her feet. “I guess you got what you wanted.”

“I wanted Cassie free, not dead. It was supposed to look like a break-in. Falling down the stairs onto a knife wasn’t part of the plan, Andrew.” She said, letting her emotions seep through.

Andy caught the edge in her voice and instantly felt apologetic. “How’d it happen?”

“They both fell when Cassie tripped, but Megan landed on top of Cassie pushing Cassie into me.” Ally averted her eyes.

“You were holding the knife.” Andy presumed.

Allison nodded before continuing. “I pushed them both off me, but before I could say or do anything Megan freaked out. She took off, and here we are.”

Andy took sat beside Ally and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She took another gulp of her beverage. 

“The plan was to get Megan committed. Cassie would file for divorce while Megan was put away, avoiding any physical altercation that could arise.” Ally upended her cup. “Megan fled at the possibility that she might get hurt. She didn’t even check to see if Cassie was still alive.” A dejected chortle rumbled through Ally’s chest. “It was a happy accident that Megan drank away her memory of the last 24 hours."

Andy was stuck by something and released his grip on her. “You never noticed signs of abuse on Cassie?”

Ally considered the question. “I can’t say undoubtedly so, no.” She answered, almost surprised that she had overlooked such a thing.

“You had no proof beyond your married lover talking crap about their wife?” Andy asked astonishedly. Ally was struck speechless at the revelation. He continued. “If we’re assuming the abuse allegations were a lie, what’s so say any of the other allegations Cassie made against Megan were the truth?”

Appalled concern flashed in Ally’s eyes. “I can’t answer that.”

“No, you can't. The only person who can is sitting in on the other side of the mirror, about to be charged with manslaughter for the death of her wife after being setup by her wife’s mistress.” Andy declared pointedly.

“Innocence is subjective.” Ally responded defensively.

“Save the psych buzzwords for parents of troubled teens, Allison. You didn’t even try to validate your little girlfriend’s story. You, a decorated psychologist, chose to believe the claims of someone who had been lying to you about your relationship for months. Megan Chalmers is taking the fall for YOUR pride and embarrassment. It’s as simple as that.” Andy’s ire bore a hole through her.

Ally turned away, letting her brother’s outrage wash over her. “You’re right. Maybe I was prideful and embarrassed and wanted to believe anything that would make me feel less stupid. But I didn’t want anyone dead.”

“I believe this was an accident. But your bruised ego is sending an innocent woman to a state-run facility.” Andy affirmed.

Ally straightened her spine and faced her brother. “At this point, what’s done is done. Either you can help me, or you can turn me in; outing yourself as the cop who’s been covering for his psycho sister since high school in the process.”

Andy harrumphed. “This is the last time, Ally. After this, your dead bodies are your problem alone.”

She grinned triumphantly. “I guarantee nothing, big brother.” She kissed Andy’s cheek and departed the police station.