I shook my head, fidgeting with my straw. “You know how they feel about it.” It was fine to have a hobby when I was married, my mother had said. But after Steven had left, they were both very clear that writing books was an irresponsible career choice. They’d been pushing me to get a government job ever since.
Georgia leaned over the table and lowered her voice. “Now that you’ve got some serious money coming in, maybe you can get Steven and Theresa off your back about the custody stuff. With any luck, you and Nick will figure out where she was that night. Maybe that’ll put an end to it.”
I choked back a mirthless laugh. Oh, it would definitely put an end to it. If Nick followed the bread crumbs and found Harris’s body, I’d be lucky to see my kids ever again.
I shook my head. “Theresa may have done a lot of shitty things, but I honestly don’t think this is one of them. Innocent until proven guilty, right?”
Georgia sucked a tooth. “If she wasn’t at the bar that night, she’s got nothing to hide.”
Nothing to hide. Except the shovel in her shed, the search history on her laptop, and the body buried in her fiancé’s sod farm. Theresa was treading thin ice, and she didn’t even know it. All she needed to prove her innocence was a solid alibi for the night Harris disappeared. Which meant all I had to do to keep her out of prison was figure out where she’d been that night.
* * *
The navy-blue sedan parked in my driveway was suspiciously nondescript. Similar to Detective Anthony’s, with fewer antennae and a little more rust. A ripple of anxiety shot through me.
“You expecting someone?” Georgia asked, pulling in behind it after lunch.
“Probably one of Vero’s friends. Thanks for the ride. I’ll call you later.”
I fished the kids out of the back seat and punched in the code for the garage door. Vero’s Charger was there, but my van was gone.
Vero sat at the kitchen table eating the last of the Oreo cookies from the bag. Zach took off like a bullet to the playroom, peeling out of his coat as he ran. I picked Delia’s off the floor and slung it over a chair, waiting until they were safely out of the room before asking, “Where’s the van?”
She glanced at me over her glass of milk. “Ramón’s waiting on some parts. He gave you a loaner until they come in.”
My pent-up anxiety slipped out on a long, tired breath. “That was nice of him. So what’s the bad news?” I sat across from her as she pushed a receipt across the table.
“It needs a lot of work.”
I skimmed the invoice. The only surprising thing on it was the bottom line. “Ouch.”
She sucked down the last dregs of her milk and set down her glass with a dispirited sigh, as if she wished she’d dunked her cookies in something stronger. “The good news is that we won’t have any problem paying him.” Vero got up and fished a fat ziplock bag from the freezer. She dropped it on the table with an icy thunk.
The hair on my arms stood on end. “What’s that?” The contents of the bag were rectangular and green, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t frozen spinach.
“I met with Irina. I tried to explain. I told her that we made a mistake—that we didn’t realize who her husband was. I told her the job was too dangerous and we were returning the advance. She thought it was a ploy to renegotiate and get more money out of her since we figured out who Andrei works for and how much he’s worth. So she doubled the amount of the offer and refused to take no for an answer.”
I sank into a chair, the room wobbling. “No. No, no, no, no, no!” I pressed my fingers into my temples and shook my head. Vero’s voice rose over the screams in the back of my mind, that this could not actually be happening.
“I tried, I swear, Finlay! I practically shoved the money in her hand, but she wouldn’t take it. She says she doesn’t care how you do it, but she wants it done. Soon.”
I lowered my voice so the children wouldn’t hear. “Andrei Borovkov is a cold-blooded professional murderer! Have you googled him? He was arrested last year for burning a man alive! Six months ago, he was charged with dismembering some guy in a parking lot and shooting all the witnesses, execution-style. And let’s not forget the three men found with their throats slashed in a warehouse in July!”
“He wasn’t convicted of any of them,” she said defensively. “Maybe he’s not as dangerous as he sounds.”
“He got off because someone mishandled evidence, Vero! Because Feliks Zhirov has cops in his pocket! How the hell am I supposed to kill an enforcer for the mob?”