Bird stared into the distance.
“I think I’d like to ask him that question,” he said finally. “Good night.”
The saltbox house receded in the rearview as he drove away, but inside Bird’s head, he continued to pace its rooms: the dark den, the messy bedroom, the short staircase, the airy office. Maybe the house, where the two had lived together yet so very separately, was a sign not of cooperation or compromise but of trouble brewing, bubbling, eventually boiling over. And yet: when Lizzie Ouellette had wound up pregnant, Dwayne Cleaves had stepped up and married her. Then tragedy, Dwayne’s injury, had turned into opportunity, and Lizzie had stepped in to negotiate . . . and he’d let her. He’d trusted her. Granted, that had been years ago. A lot could happen; a lot could change. But the truth, the one that Bird couldn’t ignore, was this: in two of the most challenging moments of their lives, moments that could easily have split them apart, Lizzie and Dwayne had come together.
Chapter 10
The City
Adrienne’s gym bag was heavy on her shoulder as she crossed the lobby of the downtown bank, stepping through the front entrance just as the clock struck five. The sidewalk was swarming with people and she draped an arm over the tote, holding it close to her hip, keenly aware of the catastrophic consequences should someone try to snatch it. She had left Rick’s office hours before, but his warning words were still ringing in her ears.
“There’s no need to rush this process. And a cashier’s check of that size? My dear, it’s simply not done. It’s not just unorthodox, it’s dangerous. I could never recommend a client take that kind of risk.”
“But,” she’d protested, which was when Rick leaned in and placed a hand on her knee. The touch was more fatherly than lecherous, but still startled her into silence.
“Adrienne, this money is yours,” he’d said. “I want to be absolutely clear on that. You are in control, and I can distribute these funds any way you like.” He grinned at her, that vulpine smile. Cunning and hungry. “But it’s very important to me that you and your assets are well taken care of, and I believe I have a solution that can satisfy both your immediate and long-term concerns, without doing anything rash. This way, your interests are protected on all fronts . . . including from the greedy hands of the IRS.”
She’d capitulated then. She couldn’t very well explain that her immediate concerns were far more immediate and far less nebulous than she’d led him to believe, that the IRS was the least of her worries. That two people were dead and she was living on borrowed time.
She grimaced as she walked, hurrying to keep pace with the fast-moving crowd, office drones rushing to catch their trains home. Nobody looked at her, but she still felt horribly conspicuous, exposed. She had walked out with a check after all, albeit for just a fraction of what was in the accounts she’d hoped to liquidate entirely. But a fraction was a lot of money. More than she’d ever held at once. Rick was right: Ethan had planned for every imaginable scenario, including but not limited to his incarceration or death, to ensure that his wife was well taken care of. Whatever happened to him, Adrienne could be assured of living on in the manner to which she was accustomed, as the saying went. Or at least close enough.
“I don’t want to pry,” Rick had said, while the grin stayed in place, suggesting there was nothing he wanted to do more. “But perhaps we ought to review and discuss the potential division of assets? You’d be entitled to far more than this if, just for instance, you were anticipating a divorce—”
“Oh no, no. It’s nothing like that,” she’d said, quickly and with a laugh, as though the idea of divorce was shockingly ridiculous.
Oh no, Rick, she imagined herself saying. It’s something so much worse. Tell me, Rick: have you ever seen what happens when a shell full of Mag-Shok turkey shot connects with a human jaw? Her face literally exploded, Rick.
And were her immediate concerns satisfied, as her trusted advisor had so elegantly put it? Thanks to Ethan’s thorough planning, the answer might actually be yes. Adrienne had known about some of it—like the safe-deposit box, freshly emptied, its contents now safely packed into the bag on her shoulder. It had been a struggle not to gasp when she opened it, but she’d taken everything. Who knew when she’d have another chance? Better to collect it all, even if it meant walking around with hundreds of thousands of dollars stuffed into the zip pocket inside her gym tote.
The cashier’s check, plus the diamonds. Now, those had been a surprise. Lord knew when Ethan had decided to acquire them, or how much they might be worth, but they were marvelously easy to transport.