I began searching deeper, seeing if I could find out more about Greta—her history, previous employment, something. I searched through countless news articles, but everything was mainly focused on her husband and the election. I also couldn’t find Greta Malone listed on any social media platforms or other common online forums.
I decided to call her phone number again. She had hung up on me before and then sent my next call to an automated voice mail. But maybe I’d get lucky this second time. I dialed her phone number and pressed “Call.” Instead of getting Greta on the other end, I was immediately sent to an automated voice message saying the phone number was no longer in service. I squinted at my phone screen, double-checking the number, pressed “Call” again, and got the same automated message. Had she canceled her phone number after texting with Ethan just last night?
I tried to think of another way to contact her but couldn’t find any other phone listings online. I again went to her husband’s campaign website. Under a tab labeled Events, I found a campaign schedule. At noon tomorrow, Scott Malone would be doing a campaign stop inside a mall called Fashion Centre at Pentagon City near downtown DC. From what I could tell, Greta Malone had been accompanying her husband out on the campaign trail. Would she also be there tomorrow? Should I go find out? If I jumped on an early flight, I could easily make it.
I pondered that possibility and wondered how I would explain it to Taylor. I did have a somewhat plausible cover since one of our company’s biggest clients was headquartered in DC. It would not be completely out of the realm of possibility for me to have to suddenly drop everything and fly up there tomorrow to keep them from leaving us for a competitor. I’d had to take a last-second flight to do something similar with another big client earlier this year.
Still, more lies, more deception. And I’d be again bolting on Taylor when I knew she really needed me. But how could I not pursue this if it meant finally getting to the truth about Joe? While it felt cruel to leave my wife alone right now, it felt foolish to stay put and do nothing. Sighing, I stood and walked to my office window, where I had a view of the street in front of our house. As I thought more about what I should do, my eyes drifted across our well-landscaped front lawn and then settled on a vehicle I spotted parked on the curb a half block up the street. I leaned in closer to the window, then cursed. A black Ford Explorer. My heart started racing. Squinting, I thought I could make out wisps of smoke coming from a crack in the driver’s-side window. Someone was sitting in the vehicle right now, smoking a cigarette and watching my house. I thought about the man who had killed Ethan and then about my girls sleeping upstairs. I suddenly felt a fierce surge of both fear and protectiveness.
I moved quickly, bolting out of my office, and headed straight into the garage. I found one of my baseball bats mixed in with other sports equipment. Then I opened the garage door and walked briskly down the driveway and into the street. No way in hell was I going to let someone sit out here on my street, watching my house while my family slept only fifty feet away. I was not hiding the fact that I was coming straight for whoever was in the vehicle. But I still couldn’t get a good look at who was behind the wheel. As if sensing what was happening, the driver started the vehicle and flipped on bright headlights. I was blinded for a moment. Then the driver punched the gas and did a swift U-turn in the street. I jumped back out of the way so I wouldn’t get clipped. The engine roared, and the vehicle’s tires spun. Seconds later, the car was gone around another street corner.
Was it the same guy who had shot and killed Ethan Tucker?
Could it have been the man with the navy tattoo?
I wasn’t sure. But I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
TWENTY-FIVE
I woke Taylor early to deliver the unexpected travel news. I explained how I’d received an alarming late-night email from one of our biggest clients and felt I had no choice but to go see them in person today in order to salvage the relationship. At first, she let me have it. How could I take off today? She was already so overwhelmed. This was the worst possible timing! But then she gradually calmed down, telling me, “I guess our lives and work have to go on, in spite of everything that’s happened this week.” I promised her it would just be a day trip. I’d be back home and in bed with her by the end of the night. Plus, I suggested the long flight would give me the additional time I needed to finish the photo presentation. At least that part was true. Then I kissed her, went upstairs and kissed the girls, who were still asleep, and headed for the airport.