The Marriage Lie(79)

He plunks both forearms on the table and leans in, hard enough the table wobbles under his weight. “This is not a joke, Iris. If this guy is sending you messages pretending to be your dead husband, there’s something bigger going on. You don’t want to be anywhere near him, and you definitely don’t want to be standing in his own backyard. What if he’d seen you?”

“He did see me.”

Evan sits there, his face blank like he’s waiting for the punch line.

“Corban saw me. First through the window, and then again when I tore across his yard. It’s why I’m such a mess. I got stuck in his bushes.” I stick a finger through one of the holes on my sleeve, find a raised scratch across my skin. “Anyway, he didn’t chase me. He just stood there and watched me drive away. And here’s the creepy part—he was smiling.”

“You think the smile is the creepy part.”

Normally, I’d laugh at Evan’s deadpan expression or the massive understatement or both, but considering the context, I don’t find it the least bit funny. Besides, Evan’s got a point. Corban’s smile was not the only creepy part.

Evan picks up his fork, stabs a ravioli cushion, then drops both to his plate with a clatter. “I don’t like it. This guy is pretending to be Will, which means he’s devious and dangerous, and he knows too much.” Evan shakes his head, picks up his fork. “I don’t know what his motives are, but he’s a threat. You can’t go home. You’re not safe there.”

“I have a brand-new alarm, the best on the market, according to the guy who installed it. Cameras, panic buttons, the works.”

“Alarms won’t dissuade a determined criminal, Iris. I’ve seen it enough times to know this for a fact. You’d be safer somewhere else. A friend’s house, a hotel, or if you don’t have the cash, you’re welcome to my guest room.”

I don’t respond, mostly because I don’t know what to say. Attorney/client. Fellow widow. Friend. There are already too many connections here, too many ways our lines can potentially be crossed. As sweet as his offer is, adding roommates into the mix feels like a bad idea all around.

“I can see my offer is freaking you out, so you should know the room comes with its own bathroom and a lock on the door, and that I’m not only asking for you.” He lifts his shoulders in a no big deal shrug, a stark contrast to his expression. “Whoever said the worst part happens when your family and friends pack up and leave isn’t wrong. My house is too damn quiet. It’d be nice having someone around again.”

He closes his eyes when he says it, like it’s not me he’s thinking of, but Susanna and Emma, trying to capture their fleeting images on his mind’s eye. I know his offer comes from a good place, but it also comes from a place of love and loss and longing. Already I feel like I’m intruding, and I haven’t stepped one foot through his door.

I open my mouth to politely decline, but Evan must sense it coming, because he cuts me off. “Just think about it, okay? The room’s there anytime you want it. And if you don’t, at least promise me you’ll consider staying with a friend or family member.”

I nod and smile my thanks, and Evan returns to his pasta.

“So. Did you ask Zeke if he can track the origin of the spyware?”

“No. I didn’t know that was an option.”

“I don’t know for sure that it is, either, but if anybody can do it, he can. In the meantime—and I can’t believe I even have to say this out loud—stay away from Corban Hayes. If he texts again pretending to be Will, do not, I repeat, do not engage. If he calls or shows up at your house again, call the cops, and in the meantime, document everything. We’ll need it for the restraining order.”

My cell phone buzzes on the table, and Dave’s face lights up the screen. “It’s my brother. Do you mind?”

Evan waves a hand in my direction. “Go for it.”

I pick up, sticking a finger in my other ear so I can hear over the restaurant noise. “Hey, can I call you later? I’m at dinner.”

“Nope. No way. Do you know how many messages I’ve left you? Thirteen, that’s how many, and Mom’s called me at least twice that, looking for you. She’s completely freaked out. Where the hell have you been?”

“Sorry, but you wouldn’t believe the last couple of days.”

I give Dave a quick rundown of the events since I saw him last—only two days ago but enough drama to fill two months. I stick to the highlights, telling him about Tiffany, the second note, the texts claiming to be Will, Zeke tracking the phone to an address in Vinings.

When I get to the part about Corban spotting me through the window, Dave stops me. “Holy shit, Iris. Did you call the cops?”

“Evan and I were just getting to that part, which is why I need to go. Will you call Mom for me? Tell her I’m fine, and I’ll call her in the morning.”

“I’ll tell her, but you know she’s going to keep calling. I suggest you do us all a favor and pick up. Oh, and while I’ve got you, did you see the email from the Seattle police?”

“No, why? Did it say when we can expect the report?”

“They already sent it.”

“The whole thing?”

“The whole thing. The fire, the evidence against Will, everything.”